The Broken One

I walk through the school doors, staring at my feet as I walk, trying not to make eye contact with anybody. Kids stare at me and I can tell word must’ve spread quickly about the fight. As I walk through the crowd of teenagers I get a few elbows to the side and I hear a fear mutters of “Freak” “loser” “Emo”. I just ignore it all and go to my first hour class. Since its early and school hasn’t officially started, I'm the second kid in the classroom.
I sit down at my desk and look up to see Mrs. Bell looking at me sympathetically, she must’ve heard about what happened too. She stands up at her desk and starts towards me. I groan internally, I don’t want sympathy. She gets over to me and kneels down beside my desk.
“Cynthia, I heard what happened yesterday and I just wanted you to know how sorry I am about it. If you ever need someone to talk to I'm here”
She says before she pats my hand and stands back up, going back over to her desk, her high heels clicking on the floor with every step.
Until the bell rings I just sit there, knowing the rest of the day will probably be the same as this, teachers acting like they care and kids being pricks, but that’s nothing new.

~~~~~~

By the beginning of 8th hour I’ve had just about as much as I can take from overly fake teachers. A few minutes after class starts though, it get worse.
“Cynthia, I just got an email saying that you need to go down to the guidance office”
Mrs. Jefferson says in her obnoxiously high pitched voice. She quickly writes me a pass and hands it to me as gather my stuff and walk to the front of the room to take it from her. I hear whispers from some of the kids and I know they’ll be new rumors after this.
I walk down the hallway and go into the guidance office. The counselor is there talking to the receptionist. They look up at me when I enter.
“I was supposed to come down”
I say awkwardly, holding the pass up.
“Oh, yes. Come on in here with me, Cynthia”
The counselor says, leading me into his little office place.
“Please sit, make yourself comfortable”
He says as he sits down at his desk and pulls out a folder with some papers that I'm guessing are about me. I sit down on the hard, blue and black pin striped chair in front of him.
“Do you know why you were called down here today?”
The counselor asks. According to the name plaque on his desk he’s goes by Mr. Welch.
“Umm, no”
I answer, hoping it’s not for what I think it is.
“You’ve been called down because yesterday when the nurse was examining you she found self-inflicted cuts on your arms. I'm aware that your parent- err, guardian, Andy Biersack was notified about it. Did the two of you talk?”
He asks me, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, some”
I say quietly, not wanting to talk about this with a complete stranger.
“How did that go? What did he say?”
Mr. Welch asks, his grey eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.
“Umm, I don’t know, it went fine. He was pretty concerned”
I say, my face growing hotter as I blush from embarrassment.
“As he should be. This behavior is very unsafe and unhealthy. Taking things out on yourself isn’t the answer. Nobody wants to see you hurt yourself. If anything ever happens or you need to talk then you can always come to me, I’ll be here”
He says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the desk.
“Ok”
I say, annoyed his selection of words, the same selection that every other teacher today has said.
“If you’re ready I can write you a pass and you can go back to class now Cynthia”
He says, grabbing a sticky note from the pile in one of the desk drawers. He writes something on it and hands it to me. I take it and leave, thankful that it’s over with.
I sit through the last half hour of school, zoned out, thinking about all the days leading up to my parents deaths. The little bit of happiness I have fades quickly.
Before I know it the bell is ringing and school is over for the day. I'm one of the first ones out of the classroom. Just as I get out of the doors of the school, Tara appears, along with a few other girls I don’t know and don’t care to.
“We’re surprised you didn’t go home and slit your wrists yesterday after you got your ass beat, oh wait, that’s what we heard you did actually. Maybe next time you could cut a little deeper, you know, save everybody a little trouble by not making them put up with you anymore. Your presence here is unwanted if you didn’t notice”
Tara says. I try to push past them but they keep me blocked in.
“Why don’t you fuck off, Tara”
I hiss at them, hoping I don’t look like I'm about to cry.
“How about no, I'm not done. I bet that weirdo who adopted you doesn’t even want you around. He probably just brought you home so he could have a good piece of ass he could fuck. Is that what you do together? Are you just his whore? An emo little slut is all your ever going to be, you should just kill yourself now”
Tara says, sneering at me. I try to push past them again and they let me. After getting about fifty feet away from them I start running home, tears raining from my eyes.
They told me to kill myself and that’s exactly what I'm going to do.

Notes

Semester finals are coming up at school and things are getting busy. I'll try my best to update and write everyday but if i dont please dont hate me. I hoped you liked this chapter :)

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~becca