Mange
Recall
Copyright Mange
She sat by her window sill, tears rolling down from her face. She turned her head to look out the window but saw nothing. Just cloud covered grayness of the sky. The girl recalled everything that happened that day.
She woke up to the sound of her mother screaming at her. You’re late! Get your ass to school now!
She hurried to put on her clothes and brushed her teeth and hair. She walked out of her room and locked the door behind her. Down the stairs and out the door she went. She walked down the sidewalk putting her bracelets on as she walked. She looked at her cell for the time. 8:45 a.m.
She arrived at school just in time for second hour to start, so instead of going to the attendance office she just walked to her second class, AutoCAD. She sat down at her station and turned on the computer in front of her.
Class went by long and boring. Nothing much to do but to finish her CAD work and get it in before she failed the class.
It was only a few more minutes before her next class. The one she dreaded the most, her Connections class. The kids in her class would constantly make fun of her and push her around if she tried to talk to anyone. So after a while she stopped talking altogether. She would pick up her book or her sketch book and do something else the whole hour, but after a while the others got sick of it and tormented her anyway. Constantly asking questions and pushing and poking at her until she talked, then they would laugh and point at her.
The bell rang. She sighed under her breath and thought about the torment she would have to go through that hour and walked up the three flights of stairs to her next class. Even though she didn’t want to go, she had to. It was required for graduation.
She walked to her class, eyes cast down, staring at her feet as they hit the floor. She arrived at her class and looked in the door at the empty room. She felt a sudden push from behind her as she entered and almost fell over. She clenched a fist and turned around only to stare at the chest of the guy that pushed her. He was tall and muscular; blond hair and baby blue eyes. She looked up at him and he pushed her out of the way again. This time she just kept walking and sat down in her seat. She put her things next to her on the floor and started to stare out the window, while the blond one took his seat, right next to her.
Others soon entered the room, each one knocking loudly on her desk to annoy her, as they walked to their own seats. The girl paid no attention to them and continued to daydream, drowning out the noise of the talking. The teacher then entered the room and told them to stop talking and get out work to do for other classes.
The girl reached into her backpack and pulled out her sketch book as usual, hoping the blond one would not bother her today. She soon found out though, she was wrong. And she went through the whole hour being tormented by the blond one and his friends that sit around her. Every question, every sentence, every laugh, was burned into her head. She hoped for the bell to ring soon, but with no such luck. She was damned by the bell to spend another forty-five minutes in the classroom of her torture.
Soon the bell did ring though and she was free from the hell hole of the day. She hurried out of the class as fast as she could and walked down the stairs. As she walked onto the second flight of stairs, she ran into a person causing her to drop all of her things. The people walking up and down the stairs just looked at her and laughed as she got on her knees and tried pick up her things. Many of them just walked past her. Most of them started stepping on her hands and things, keeping her from picking her stuff up. But soon she got her things back in her backpack and walked down the stairs, just in time to hear the bell ring for the fourth class of the day, Art, her favourite class. Nobody bothered her there, because nobody really cared anyway. Her class went by fast, and so did the rest of the day.
She walked home by herself, taking a different route than the rest of the people. She felt as thought she was being watched as she walked but shrugged it off and kept going. As she arrived at her street and started to cross the road, she was almost run over by a car that suddenly decided to not stop at the stop sign. The driver honked the horn and she looked at him. It was the blond one from her connections class and a few of his friends. They laughed at her and drove off.
She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it away as she walked down her street. She felt a sudden freedom as she approached her house and she thought about the peace she would finally have when she reached her room. Little did she know, she would not get peace for long because as soon as she reached her room she started to get yelled at by her brother. He got in her face and pushed her around like she was a rag doll, screaming at her to make him something to eat and calling her a whore and a fag.
She pushed him out of the way and continued on to her room to put her stuff away but he stopped her and they started to fight. Thankfully, her step-father came up and called her over to help take back beer bottles.
It took over an hour to gather the all bottles and another hour to pack them into the car. Two by two she carried the boxes down the stairs while her step-dad watched, not bothering to help her, until all ten 20lb boxes were into the car and ready to go.
The girl got into the car and her step-dad drove them off to the store to recycle them.
After the grocery store, the girl’s step-dad visited the liquor store to get more beer for his and her moms petty addiction to alcohol and cigarettes.
No sooner had the girl and her step-dad arrive home did she have to unload the car of the 40lb box of beer and carry it into the house. She set the beer down on a box in front of the poolroom door and went back to get the rest of the stuff they collected from the grocery store.
When she came back a few minutes later she heard a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking. She dropped the stuff, ran over to where she put the beer and gasped. There they were, all twelve beers, broken and leaking all over the floor of the hall way. She turned around to see her brother on the stairs staring at what happened. ‘I’m telling mom’ he said and ran up the stairs. The girl then heard the footsteps of her step-dad and turned around. He looked at the mess and cussed at the girl, and told her to go away. The girl walked up the stairs, head cast down, and arrived just in time to hear her brother explaining the story to her mother as if it was on purpose. ‘And she dropped them on the floor’ he said just as she walked past the room.
Her mother looked at her and called her to the room. She walked over, getting ready for what was to come. The girl’s mother sent the brother out of her room and closed the door behind her and the girl. Her mother cussed her out and called her a screw up and a klutz for what she did then gave her a harsh punishment, followed by grounding for a month. The girl was then sent to clean up the mess she made but as soon as she got down there the mess was already being cleaned by the step-dad, so she didn’t stay. She went back into her room and sat by her window sill.
The girl snapped out of her trance realising she had been crying for a while. She felt so guilty and angry inside and wanted to let out some of her pain. She remembered her secret thing under her bed, pulled it out and set it on her bed next to her. It was a razor sharp knife she pulled from the knife drawer in the kitchen one day.
The girl rolled up her sleeves and pulled off her bracelets. She grabbed the knife and held it tight to the skin on her wrist. She closed her eyes and pulled it back sharply across her wrist. She opened her eyes to look at the blood as it seeped from the open wound. It felt so good. She scooped up some of the crimson red liquid on her finger and shoved into her mouth. She closed her eyes and smiled contently as she sucked the blood off her finger.
Wielding the blade again, she slashed at her wrist once more, drawing out more of the mesmerising red liquid.