Chapter 2

Hey!

This chapter might be a trigger warning for some people. I'm sorry if any of you had to go through something like this

Feedback is always appreciated!

BYE!!!!

-

-

-

-

Charlotte POV:

I slowly paced down the hot cement. I couldn’t move too fast. My body was withering away in pain despite it being hidden by my clothes and unwanted make-up.

I rushed out my house in spite of my body protest. I needed to leave. I’ve been wallowing in my thoughts for too long. It was still silent, a sign to leave before the loud snores turn into hurtful grumbles and mad yells.

I took the sign happily. I didn’t want to be around him when he awaken. He always awaken in a fowl mood. And it was instinct for him to sought after me to take away his foulness. 

Maybe it’s because he could chase away reality with his dreams or maybe it's because he really does hate me. Maybe it’s best if I just don’t know.

I slowed down at the sight of another one of my tormentors. Despite it being a place where it held hundreds of other kids my age so they could learn. 

Luna High.

I always thought the name of the school was unique. It was one of the only things I liked about the school. 

Shrinking back, I could feel the disgusted and hatred filled stares burning my abused and broken body. I didn’t like this. I usually come to school early, not wanting to be wandering the halls with people, people who hate me, are filled in it.  

I wonder if it’s worth it to make a quick stop at my locker to gather some books that I will need for my later classes. I want to say it isn’t. I want to turn on my heel, run away from the school, the people, him, screaming bloody murder about all my problems and fears.

But I don’t. I suck it up, shrinking even more, and slowly enter the school. I could feel more burning stares and could hear louder whispering. 

If I had to choose to what is worse: the beatings or the stares and whispers. I would have to chooses the stares and whispers. The beatings mend, the beatings heal, they won’t follow me when I try to sleep my worries away. They help me to escape the harsh reality when I’ve had too many blows to the head. 

The stares and whispers follow me everywhere. When I sleep, when I’m unconscious, when I’m alone, especially when I’m alone. It’s as if they are in the room with me. There surrounding me, staring and whispering which quickly turn to glaring and yelling. I hate being alone. But I love being alone. If I think hard enough, if I’m occupied with homework, cleaning, or something else that isn’t my thoughts, then I’ll be okay. 

I’ll be okay. 

And I am okay. 

My eyes trailed at the dark green covered lockers, some covered in scratches, some dented, but overall they’re clean. No tormentors to help decorate it with wet gum, taped paper that had mean comments written all over it, black ink that had the rudest slurs, and the owners blood. Only a little drop here and there. Nothing to ring alarms to any teachers or workers here. I usually wipe it off before the janitors could even get a glance at it. 

Mine isn’t so different from the others. Mine is also covered in scratches and dents. Not as clean as the others but…….

But it’s okay.

Approaching my locker, I fiddled around with the dial, the short song I’ve made up to remember the combination ringing loudly in my ears. Left 24, right 16, left once more and that’s 18.  

The sight of my clean, organized locker sent a surge of slight pride and major relief throughout my body. If I had a nickel for every time I opened my locker and it was filled with trash and other things, I would be a millionaire. Not the best way to get rich, but it would probably be the only way I could. In a fantasy that is. 

“Hey loser!” A hand gripped my shoulder, turning me so I wasn’t facing my neatly, organized locker. Familiar dark green eyes narrowed at me with heated disgust as I was shoved into the lockers behind me. “I see you're still alive.”  

I blink, already knowing that there was nothing I could do to save me from this situation. A sharp pain erupted from my shoulder as the perfect manicured nails digged deep into my flesh. “I don’t know why. It’s not like anyone even cares about you.”

I smiled, knowing everything she was saying was true. No one cares. If I died right now, they’ll carry on with their life. They won’t even notice that I’m missing.

“Why don’t you do everyone a favor and just die? Kill yourself why don’t you?”

My smiled turned slightly forced as my scars started to ache. The scars on my wrist are signs of my tries. The sign of my tries and fails. How I was so close to my sweet escape only to be yanked back to my own personal horror show. 

So yes I tried. I took their advice. I took all their advice. To slitting my wrist, to overdose, to drowning, to purposely making him mad so he could hit me one, two many times, to even choking myself. I’ll escape the blissful darkness only welcome me for a short time before I’m back. 

And it’s okay. It’s just a sign that it isn’t my time to go. It’s not my time to escape.

“Just ignore the freak, Pacifica.” I look down, knowing that he doesn’t like it when I look him in the eye. No one likes it when I look them in the eye. To them, it means I’m there equal. And I’m anything but that. “She’s not worth your attention.”

“But Matt!” Releasing my shoulder, she turned her attention to her boyfriend. “That thing needs to be taught a lesson! She shouldn’t be alive! Everyone knows she’s just a mistake!”

“You can do that later babe. The Alpha’s called a meeting and you know that we can’t be late. You can punish the freak later. I promise.”                                 

My shoulder throb in pain as the two in front of me converse. I could feel blood slowly gushing from the deep wound that Pacifica caused. I will need to head to the bathroom soon to patch this up. Or maybe I could just bleed out.

“Fine!” She turned, pointing a perfect manicure finger towards me. “Don’t think just because I’m leaving for a while that it means that you're off the hook! Everyone hates you! You’ll get what’s coming to you!”

I smiled, knowing it was the only thing I can do.

The only thing I can to that’ll enrage the girl in front of me.

“You little-” She snatched a handful of my hair, pulling me forward before bashing my head against the locker. Sweet pain bursted in my head as I was dropped roughly to the ground. My shoulder started to throb more as black dots started to cover my once clear vision.

“Pacifica, come on. We’re going to be late.”

“She was asking for it, Matt!”

I blinked, watching the blurry two walk down the now empty hall, away from my abused, beaten body.

I humored myself with the thought to scream for help.

I don’t think I need to. 

I’m okay.