Young Writers Society

Lunchtime. It's not like I'm going to eat anyways...I can't afford to eat. I shove my bag in my locker and shut it before bee-lining for the front of the school. I can't stand eating. When I see food, all I can feel is guilt. I can't wait to get to my car and just listen to music; I start to speed walk through the hallways. That is, until I'm slammed into a row of lockers by my longtime bully, Jake Dominic. Can't he just leave me be for once? Just one day, that's all I ask.

"Looky here, the shy little kitten decided to show her face at school today," Jake says with thickly layered sarcasm.

"I would've thought you'd transfer after what happened last time, kitten." Oh God, please don't be a repeat of three weeks ago. Three weeks ago, Jake and two of his followers decided that "teaching me a lesson" would be oh-so-much fun. They beat me, kicking and punching but never in places anyone would see. Always to the stomach and even stepping on my legs. I had ended up with two fractured ribs. My mom didn’t care though...she never did. She told me it was my fault for mouthing off. I didn’t have to go to the hospital, but I did make up an excuse saying I was sick so nobody would suspect anything .I didn't have to go to the hospital, but I did make up an excuse saying I was sick. I was out of school for two weeks with "Pneumonia". In, and out. In, and out. Just breath. You're okay.

"What do you want, Jake?" My voice was hardly more than a whisper. I clench my fists at my sides, hoping the tension will keep me from shaking. I don't know how much more I can take from him.

"Well kitten, I'm a guy. What do you think I want." All attempts at controlling my breathing go down the drain. I start to shake slightly, and I know Jake can see it by the way his fake smile twists into a sickening grin. Oh God. Oh, no. No no no no no. I-I can't even think about it. Oh my God, I feel sick. Why does my locker have to be in the farthest hall from the lunchroom? If it were possible, I would've sunk into the lockers right there. Instead, I try to quickly slip past Jake. It doesn't work though, because he pushes me back against the locker, knee between my legs and hands on either side of my head.

"You're not going anywhere, kitten." I can hear the anger in Jake's words. I let out an uneven breath and prepare to scream, but before I can make a sound one of Jake's hands is covering my mouth. Any chance of calling out for help is gone, so all I can do is try to push him off. Jake's lips soon replace his hand over my mouth, him pinning me to the locker with his body now. His leg keeps moving higher between mine, and when he presses it hard against my lower region I can't hold back the tears that had been threatening to stream down my face.

I start to push him again-this time on his shoulders- but all attempts to get him off of me fail when his hands, which had been gripping my waist, moved down and back to cup my butt. He must have gotten the reaction he wanted, because the moment I gasp my mouth is invaded by his tongue. I expect his hands to move back to my waist-and one does-but the other continues moving forward. He cups my womanhood in his hand, but by now I'm so exhausted from struggling that any struggle I put up was worthless. That's not to say I didn't try; I did. I tried like the devil was at my heels. I couldn't get him off; he was stronger than me, physically.

I pound on his chest- at this point I'll try anything to get him off me-but he takes his free hand from my waist to push my hands up to the wall, securely trapping them in one of his. Tears stream harder down my face. God please help me...please! Please... My struggling started to die down. I'm so tired...but I don't want this...My head is forcibly turned to the side as he assaults my neck. Please, stop...and then it did.

There was scuffing and groaning, and when I looked to the noises I instantly dropped to the floor as relief filled my body. It was Chris. Chris was in front of me, a few feet away, beating the living shit out of Jake. When I try to stand I end up falling back to the floor, so I sit there immobile. Everything's...blank. It doesn't register when Chris crouches in front of me or when he lifts my head to look at him. His words of worry and comfort only lay on deaf ears. The tears are still falling down my cheeks, but the only reason I can tell is because of Chris wiping them away every so often. The worried and confused expressions of my classmates barely register. I can barely hear the nurse when she sends me to the counselor.

I can't find the right words to explain how I feel...or what I don't feel. I'm numb. I feel everything, yet nothing at all. So when the counselor asks me what happened, how I'm feeling, etc. All I do is sit in the chair across from her. It's like I can see, but I can't see. It's only when I'm at home sitting on my bed does everything register. I was just sexually assaulted. Chris saved me. He saved me...

I can feel my heart start to pound lightly in my chest; I can feel the anxiety build up. Oh my god...there's going to be a court trial. I'm going to have to take the stand and testify. What if... what if he isn't found guilty? What if he comes after me...beats me again? How am I going to be able to stay here? Breath, just breath.

I could feel myself start to hyperventilate. The dizziness starts to set in and everything is starting to blur. My head darts back and forth as my eyes snake around the room, looking for the one thing that can help me. My eyes land on my desk and scramble over to it before finally taking a puff on my inhaler. I hold my breath for twenty seconds before slowly exhaling and I can feel myself calm slightly. I can think again, but just barely.

"Sarah, you need help. You can't keep doing this.You're Twelve years old! Do you know how embarrassing this is for your father and I? You run around with those- those- hooligans and you do whatever you please! Not to mention how unsightly your wardrobe is. All black? Really? What are you some Doom- and- Gloom goth girl? No, you're not. This is it, Sarah. Your father is taking that job offer in Oregon. Say goodbye to California." I watch as my mother stalks away, but when she gets to the entryway of the living room she stops.

"Oh, and only pack six pairs of those awful clothes. As soon as we get to Oregon I'm buying you a new wardrobe. One with colour. And we're bringing Risa back. You need to be reminded on how to be a lady." My face pales when I hear her name: Ms. Risa. Why would they bring her back...They saw the scars. They saw the bruises and the welts...do they still not believe me?

I run to my room and slam the door, grabbing my phone and connecting it to my bluetooth speaker. Three Days Grace blares through the speakers. I don't even have it in me to sing, I just cry as I pack my bags and shove a few posters, CD's, and other items in before setting it by my door. The maid will pack my bedding.

After setting my inhaler down I pull myself into my desk chair and turn on my laptop. If my family found out about what I'm becoming, they'd bring back Risa... Once the browser opens I head straight to youtube and put on my favorite playlist. I never thought I could feel lower than I did when I was 12, but I guess I was wrong. I guess I was wrong to think I was safe...I guess I was wrong to think everything could possibly get better. When the music starts, I sing along.

"Here I stand, helpless and left for dead.

Close your eyes, so many days gone by.

Easy to find what's wrong.

Harder to find what's right."

Well, isn't that the truth.

"I believe in you. I can show you that

I can see right through all your empty lies.

I won't stay long in this world so wrong."

Damn it!

"Say goodbye.

As we dance with the Devil tonight.

Don't you dare look at him in the eye.

As we dance with the Devil tonight."

Too late....I already caught a glimpse.

"Trembling. Crawling across my skin.

Feeling your cold dead eyes stealing the life of mine.

I believe in you. I can show you that

I can see right through all your empty lies.

I won't last long in this world so wrong."

But, will I...? What if...

"Say goodbye.

As we dance with the Devil tonight.

Don't you dare look at him in the eye.

As we dance with the devil tonight."

Now that I think about it, my own personal Devil seems to be inviting me in lately...

"Hold on."

What do I have to hold on to?

"Hold on."

Why should I when it's so painful...! Distraction. I need a distraction.

I dart my eyes around the room as the song ends and "So Cold" begins to play. Think, think, think...! Wait. My dresser. I race over to my dresser and pull out the third drawer, reaching in and grabbing the small brown faux-leather satchel I kept hidden. I had almost forgotten about it. I unzip the second pocket and when my fingers meet cool metal I pull out one of the three miniature blades hidden inside.

I haven't used them in so long...these ones are still brand new. Placing the metal to the skin of my thigh I count the cuts. One for the pain. Two for the guilt. Three for the hate. Four for the person I was. Five for the person I've become. Six for everything that's happened, and seven for when everyone finds out what I've just done