I walked in through the doors of my school careful to keep my face hidden beneath my black hoodie. I walked into my favorite room the art room and took a seat in my usual place the left corner of the room behind the large canvas so that no one will notice that I was in class that is no one but Ms. Amon who tried hard to let me understand that I had people who cared for me no matter what.
At half-past eight the bell rang through the halls of the school and students made their way into the room shoving and poking themselves. I slouched in my seat some more as chairs scraped the tiles and butts found their places.
"Is she in the back again" the murmuring started. i wondered why they couldn't mind their own businesses but who was I to speak and question them.
"Talk about loner" voices everywhere, they were beginning to overwhelm me. they didn't know I had to keep telling myself.
"Back off people"
I heard them all but I didn't speak. I mean what in the world would I say? Hey all I can hear you stop talking about me? What right did I have? It's not like I could bring my mouth to take action when he was touching me all over. When he asked me to be quiet and all I did was cry and scream but that didn't help me did it?
"Quiet down class" the teacher commanded and all at once everything ceased. Why couldn't I be more like her? With a voice that could cause people to listen whenever I spoke. But alas I was degraded now and I had no respect after everything that was taken from me. I shut the class out as they kept on making snide comments about me and the quarter just looking at me with pity-filled expressions that made me sick. Hell, I wanted no one's pity, never did, and never will.
I paid attention to the canvas in front of me and got to work expressing my feelings on the canvas but what a mistake that was. I was pulled into a world where I was being suffocated and choked by terror. The brush spoke its own language and all I was able to do was absolutely nothing as I let all the pays; self-hatred and anger consume me like the eternal fire of hell.
When the bell rang signaling the end of the class, I practically flew out of the room and straight to the nurse's office I was in no shape mentally to endure another class filled with pure teenagers unlike myself. When I walked in the nurse was tending to a junior, wrapping his fist knuckles with bandages. Slowly I walked over to her desk and waited for her to notice me since she was busy and it didn't take so long. She sent the boy out and asked me to lie down. She knew exactly what was happening and she as usual was ready to listen to my crappy life.
Listening was the only thing she could do for me at this point, there were no more bruises for her to tend to and no more reason to tell her, I tripped or fell down the stairs or just decided to jump a wall for fun. the lies I had to use to cover up on the bruises for my oh-so-wonderful uncle just kept getting more extreme by the day as I tried so hard to hide everything happening.