I've never been particularly fortunate. Most of my life, I've been a smear on the wall or a bug on the ground. Waiting to be stepped on. And right now…?

"Ha! Ha! That's it, Kristi! Dunk that little Indian bitch! How's that for a rain dance you bitch?"

"Heh! Drown that cunt!"

Right now, I was in the middle of having my face held down in a toilet bowl.

Bullying. That's what the media, schools and parents want to call it. Me? I call it just another day in this shit storm I call my life.

It was no secret that I was constantly harassed and beat up by this group of girls. Still, no one could be bothered enough to care.

The private academy that I attended was basically funded, in full, by the families of these three little deviants. As a matter of fact, their great great-grandfathers' pictures could be found hanging up in the entranceway as the founders of this fine institution. Yeah, to say that they could get away with murder would not be a stretch.

The teachers, priests, nuns and board couldn't do anything to them. They knew it. I knew it. So right now, just like every other day, I was being tormented by them. Why?

Honestly, you'd have to ask them that.

I've been enrolled in this all-girls Christian academy for just over 5 years. It was a boarding school. So, since my parents dragged me from the reservation and plunked me down in the middle of God-fucking-hates-me Midwest, I've lived with the constant bullying and beatings. Today was no different.

Living here year-round has shown me who was in charge. I'm not being a coward, I swear. It's just that I am fully aware that I have no power over things. Honestly, most days I just prayed that they'd just kill me and get it over with. Death would be much more preferable than living in this endless nightmare.

But they never did.

"Ha! Look at that little cunt! Her legs are shaking. Think she's going to pass out?"

"Oh! I hope so. If she does, we can see how many flashlights we can shove up her dirty Indian cunt!"

"That's funny, Crystal! You hear that medicine woman? Want to get that cherry popped by a fucking flashlight?"

I was beginning to blackout. I didn't fight it. I didn't try to hang on. I let myself descend into the darkness only to be pulled from the brink right before the peace of everlasting silence took over.

"Wake up, bitch! We're not through with you yet!" Yanking my head out of the toilet, Kristi kicked the side of my face so hard that my eyes were shaking.

"Oof!" I fell on the cold porcelain tiles, my cold wet hair falling over my face as I coughed up toilet water on the floor.

"That's it, bitch! Choke on it! Choke on this…too!" After seeing Kristi's kick land in my face, mobster number 2, Crystal, planted her foot in my stomach, which prompted the light lunch that I'd eaten to come back up.

As I retched on the floor and was covered in vomit, bile and toilet water, I heard them call out to mobster number 3, Celeste. "Come on, Celes. Get in on this, too!"

"Sure-fucking-thing! Yah!" She decided that kicking me wasn't good enough and instead decided to stomp on my stomach.

I passed out.

When I woke up, they were gone. I don't know how much time passed but my hair was crunchy and the vomit had made my body stick to the floor. Like always, I dragged myself up, battered and bruised and trudged back to my dorm room.

I walked past numerous students and staff members. No one stopped and offered me any help. That was fine. This was my life. Today was no different than any other day. To them, I was just this strange Indian in the middle of their White Christian holy land. I was unwanted. I was trash. Even my parents no longer cared about me. At least, that's how it felt.

Six years ago, I had just turned 12 and my mother finally convinced my father to leave the reservation that had been our home since I was born. My father was 100% Hopi (a small southwestern tribe in the United States). My mother was half Greek and half Irish. My dad is a carpenter while my mom is an anthropologist. They met when my mom was a grad-student and was studying southwestern Indian tribal culture. After she got her doctorate, she reconnected with my father and they got married.

I was born a few years later.

So, what does that make me? Even on the reservation, I was considered a mutt. At least, that was their nickname for me. It was hard to fit in but at least they were more welcoming than here. By the time I left, I had made a few real friends. It took years and years' worth of effort but eventually, I was considered one of them, despite not quite looking like them.

My skin was a shade too fair, but not fair enough to be considered White. Just a tad too fair to be considered full Hopi. My hair was black like the night but too silky—not thick enough to be considered part of the tribe. My features were too irregular: thick lips, small nose, sharp cheekbones, strong chin, and dainty ears. The worst were my eyes. They were hazel, like my mom's. No self-respecting Hopi would ever have hazel eyes. Honestly, I wasn't accepted by anyone until I convinced my parents to let me wear color-correcting contact lenses. Once my eyes were the standard brown of my tribe, people began to open up.

But that all ended when my mom took this job at a university in the Midwest. It took some convincing, but my dad eventually agreed to uproot our lives and move us to the middle of fucking nowhere. It was cold, wet, moldy and generally nothing like the sweet dry heat of the desert. I missed home.

That was 6-years ago. Five years ago, Mom got assigned this dig in the middle of southern India. Because my dad could work anywhere as a carpenter, he went with her. To (I think the term they used was "simplify") my life, they didn't want me moving across the globe since they didn't know how long the dig would last. As such, they found a respectable boarding school and shipped me off. I've been here ever since.

The first thing I learned after arriving was that girls were mean. I'm not talking about catty. I'm talking about break your ribs, shove a fist in your back kind of mean. The first day I was here, several girls, led by their Queen B, Kristi, held me down and shaved off all of my hair.

All of my hair.

The second day, I experienced my first concussion when Kristi, or maybe Crystal, pushed me down the stairs.

From there things only continued. I was 12 then, I'm 18 now. Soon, I would be graduating…that's if I lived through the end of the year.

When I finally made it back to my dorm, my clothes were a mess. I stripped, dropping my uniform in the laundry basket. The shower was long and hot. The best thing about this dormitory was the water pressure.

Standing in front of the mirror, I was completely naked. My hair had grown back, however, I'd gotten used to the shaved look, so I had half of my head shaved while the remainder was cropped until it barely came past my ear.

Since my mom thought having hazel eyes would help me better fit in with the Karen's of the world, I started my school career off without the colored contacts. Yeah, that didn't go over so well but it was too late to do anything about it now. If I did something like that now, it would only make the beatings worse.

I looked at my body as water ran down my exposed skin. The girl looking at me was darker than nearly anyone around. There were two Black girls at this school, but they hung out together. I've never gotten close to them. My breasts had grown but they weren't large or sexy or anything, just your standard jumble of B-cupped breasts. My hips had grown wider and at 5-foot 5-inches, I had sort of an hourglass figure. A tuft of dark pubic hair covered my unused sex. My backside was firm and my abs were visible. This was due mostly to a lack of time in the cafeteria and a surplus of time running away from my tormenters than any actual effort on my part.

Along with my emaciated body, the scars on my thighs and wrists were more than a little jarring.

"Kyah Open-Cloud, you're a fucking coward. Why don't you just off yourself? Huh? Why still deal with this abuse?" After trying to buff my spirits, I reached for the rusted razor blade on the top of the sink, before I even touched it, my hand fell to my side. I was a coward. I didn't want to die. I just wanted it all to end.

"Is that really all you want, Kyah Open-Cloud?"

Her high-pitched voice came from behind me, but I didn't notice her until she spoke. When I turned around in a flurry, standing before me was a new teacher that started this year. Her name was Professor Calypso Andromeda. Her tall figure smirked at me, but even when looking down on me, I felt oddly comfortable in her presence, despite the fact that I was totally in the buff.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Professor Andromeda stalked towards me, her heels clicking against my bathroom floor. My room was one of the rare one-bedrooms in the dorm. Most girls didn't like it because the one-bedrooms were so small they preferred living in the suites, even if they had to share a bedroom. For me, it was perfect.

I glanced at my door. It was still locked.

I looked at the tall blonde woman who looked like the very depiction of the word "Goddess" and felt my knees buckle.

What was happening to me? I felt my consciousness fall away. That last thought that I had was of how today had been such a strange day.

Then all went dark.