It was finally finished. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she dropped the pen onto her masterpiece. "This one will be the best, I know it," She said. Her eyes glanced at a glowing clock which hung from her wall. "Twelve-Thirty. Wow, I guess I stayed up a little too late, again." Her face was a pale complexion and her green eyes were faded from no sleep. With a groan, she lifted herself from her comfy desk chair. School was early the next day, and she knew if she was late one more time, her teacher would deck her.
Her long, red hair swung over her face as she staggered to her bed. Her room had no real lightning on at the moment, much to her delight. She treasured the calm that the darkness gave her. It was the only peace she received during the days. Her body gave in as her limbs touched the soft sheets. She fell into a sea of cotton and feathers and her eyes grew heavy. As she closed her eyes, the though of her finished work made her smile. Tomorrow will seem a little bit brighter than the others.
An ear-shattering beeping jolted the girl from her deep sleep. "Damnit," she said as she slammed her hand onto the snooze button. It was 6:30, and it was all too early for her. She sluggishly got herself out of her haven of a bed. Rubbing her eyes, she wandered into her bathroom and turned on the warm water. The sound of the running water woke her up a little bit more. It was a refreshing sound, much better than that blaring alarm that she dreaded every morning.
Once she was under the water, her thoughts drifted to her story. It was to be her best tale ever. Unfortunately, it was possibly her last work for a while. She had to get her head out of the clouds. Her parents demanded that she did, even though they themselves were constantly dreaming of the impossible. Parents…who needs them… she thought as she covered her skin in lime-scented bubbles.
They were always fighting. If there was a money issue, transportation issue, who was cooking or cleaning that night, when the kids could go out, or anything else, they would be at it with their loud voices. Always blaming each other. Always saying that they made a mistake marrying the other. Her mother was a drunk who was also a housekeeper for a ritzy family about an hour away. Her father was a businessman who was having an affair with a girl her own age.
When she was younger, she would imagine being in incredible worlds and meeting odd creatures and eating strange foods. Oh, how she loved being so creative! But once she entered the realm of high school, her father demanded that she would drop her writing and worry about her career. Her mother would be drunk almost all the time and would yell at her constantly for no reason at all.
She scrubbed some of her favorite shampoo in her hair and smiled. She enjoyed her morning shower. It would prep her up for her long day at school. She stepped out about 20 minutes later and wrapped her skinny body into a towel. She stared at herself in her steamed-up mirror for a moment, noting all the facial lines and freckles that she had. Sure, she wasn't the most gorgeous girl in school, but she was happy with what she got. She had breasts that just fit a c-cup bra, and her stomach had a little six-pack to it. She was happy with herself. But that's all she was happy about. That, and her writing.
She checked the time and left the bathroom. She had 20 minutes before heading to school. That would be enough time. Her slender hands grasped the bronze doorknob to her closet and she opened the door. Inside were various outfits and she picked out a simple, yet elegant outfit.
She laid out a pair of blue jeans that flared outwards a bit at the bottom. They were a little worn away, but they were comfortable. The sides had flower designs sewn in, and they made the pants look like they were from the past. The next article of clothing she chose was a black shirt, which had long sleeves that widened as they went down, and the edges of the openings were ruffled. It was made of silk and had a 'V'-styled cut in the front. It was nice and soft to the touch. With the addition of socks and her other undergarments, the outfit was complete.
Within a few minutes, she was changed. She slipped on a pair of her black boot-like shoes and she grabbed her book bag. Then her eyes caught a glimpse of her work. It was on her desk, in a messy pile of papers and folders. A sigh passed through her lips and she grabbed her story. Stuffing it into her bag, she dashed out of her bedroom and ran downstairs. Luckily, her mother was asleep in her own room for once. Normally, she would be collapsed onto the couch in front of a muted television, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey laying in her wake. But this morning, the room was empty. With a swoop of her hands, the girl grabbed her car keys from the round, wooden table. She could partially see her reflection in the glossy finish.
Out the front door she went. Her heart ached as she opened the door to her '89 El Dorado. It was a stylish old car of her father's, but he made sure to keep it in perfect shape and condition for her. The only good thing he did for her, really. She sat in the driver's seat and threw her bag into the passenger seat. The keys rattled against various key chains as she slipped the key into the slot at the wheel. She backed up the care and began to drive towards school.
It was just like every other dull school morning at Randall High. You had the football players with their cheerleader girlfriends chatting on the main stairs into the school. A few were passing around a football. At one corner of the entrance, the drama kids were reciting lines for the school play, Romeo and Juliet. On the opposite side, the computer geeks were talking about formatting data and changing programs around in DOS and such. No one really knew what they were talking about, but they seemed really interested in whatever it was. And of course, in the back of the school, in the parking lot, were all the drug addict teens. They were passing around lighters for their cigarettes and pot. And lastly, the gothic and punkish kids were huddled in the lobby area in the back of the school. Exchanging stories and tales of self-mutilation and suicide filled that area. They were always so "happy" about everything.
Upon arriving to school, she could see that the bell was about to ring for the first class. She parked her car and ran out towards the back entrance to school and took a deep breath as she passed the drug lords and their buddies. Laughter from them echoed around her. Once she reached the back hallway, she smiled and let out a sigh of relief. This place was like a prison, but at least it was a little better than home. The hundreds of faces in the hallways made her feel a little dizzy. She should have gotten more sleep. No matter, class is going to start soon.
The math classroom was as bland as ever. Her teacher was standing at the chalkboard, staring at the complex equations in front of him. His gray hair always looked so fake and made him very bitter in his classes. He was in his mid-40s and divorced. He always complained about "today's youth" and how everything is so different. He was much like all the other teachers in this cramped school. But he didn't beat her favorite teacher, the one who saved her everyday.
When her class ended, she rushed across the halls and down some stairs, into the liberal arts hallway. She stepped into her creative writing room and splashed her papers on her desk. She was always the first one to enter the classroom. This was her favorite period of the day. And soon, her favorite teacher would walk in. He was the kindest and most generous teacher she knew. Her eyes fluttered a little as he entered the room in his well-ironed, light blue shirt and black slacks. A simple, gray tie lay down his front and his dark-red hair was tied loosely behind him. Messy bangs rested at the sides of his delicate face and his blue eyes were like Safire. They were covered by a pair of small glasses, which made him look even more debonair. His black shoes slushed against the floor tiles as he placed his gradebook on his desk in the front of his classroom. He flashed her a smile before a few other students joined them. "Good morning, class." His voice was smooth and beautiful to her. He wasn't a day over 28, and was so intelligent. "I believe that you have an assignment to hand in?" The other students grunted and took out their stories. His eyes looked towards the redhead and smiled. "Meredith, I cannot wait to read yours," he said. A light blush covered her cheeks as she took out her story.
"Thank you, Mr. Blair," she responded. He walked across the front desks of each of the rows, picking up the assignments. He took Meredith's and placed the stack on his desk.
"Alright. Now, I want to remind you all of the dos and don'ts of creative writing, since some of you seemed to have forgotten…" his voice faded into a distance within Meredith's head. She watched him intently as he dragged the yellow chalk across the blackboard, every word written delicately and gracefully. She loved watching his slender movements and hearing his voice. It was what she lived for during her school day.
The ringing of the bell drowned her thoughts and she shook her head. She grabbed her bag and stood up from her desk. A sigh ran past her lips as she turned towards the door. "Meredith, I would like to speak with you for a moment," she heard Mr. Blair request. She turned and nodded at him. She approached his desk, and gazed down at him. "I have noticed the last few days that you have been a little, well, distant in my class," he said. His voice was filled with concern. "Your writing has suffered as well, and I have grown worried. Is there something going on that you would like to share with me?" he asked as his eyes locked onto hers. Meredith froze for a moment, unsure of what do say. She saw the concern in his crystal eyes and she shuddered a little.
"No. Everything is fine. I have just been very busy on this story and I have not gotten a lot of sleep. I will try to be better in class," she said. He stared at her for a long moment and then nodded.
"If you need to talk about anything, whether it is school related or not, know that I am here for you. I'm not just a teacher, I can be a friend too." he replied. He took out a small slip of orange paper and scribbled some writing onto it. He handed it to her and she took it. "Now hurry along or you will be late!" he warned. She smiled and ran out the door.
That was odd…he seemed so concerned….maybe I should have said something, she thought as she neared her next class. She shook her head and dismissed the idea, entering her history classroom.
The rest of the day was slow and boring for her. She had no real friends in her classes, so she kept herself quiet like always. During lunch, she started to doodle on her notepad. She felt a shadow over her and noticed one of the cheerleaders giggling behind her.
"Does Mere have a crush?" the girl teased. Meredith glanced at her drawing and realized that she had drawn Mr. Blair. Her eyes widened and she slammed the book shut. "Look everyone! Meredith has a crush on a teacher! How romantic!" the cheerleader exclaimed. Some other kids began to create a crowd around Meredith and she back away from them.
"What a sick little whore!" one said.
"She's so weird! She's always writing or drawing!"
"Her parents are fuck-ups. Of course she is fucked up herself!" Meredith started to shake. Was she really a whore? She couldn't be. Did she really have a crush on Mr. Blair?
"You don't belong here, you wench! Go back to witch country, whore!" a football player said. Meredith closed her eyes and ran as fast as she could through the crowd, smashing people around her to the side. The wicked laughter from them followed her as she ran out of the school in tears. She bashed herself against a tree by the courtyard of the school and started to cry. The tear poured out like and endless rain and she couldn't stop herself from shaking. She felt herself fall to the ground and she held herself tightly. Her head lowered and she began to whimper.
You are a disgusting whore. They were right. You don't belong here, or anywhere. Your mother is a drunk and your father is a womanizer and a liar. What does that make you? You have no friends. You don't deserve to live. Her thoughts were tormenting her inside. She couldn't handle it. You have no future if you can't do what you want. No one cares about your mindless scribbles on your notepads. They all hate you. They all hate you. They all hate you!
"Stop it!" she exclaimed to herself. She stood up and opened her bag as she sniffled. She took out her keys and opened a small pocket knife that she had attached to them. Her eyes darted out around her to make sure no one was around. Her hand pushed up one of her shirt sleeves. She pressed the knife at her wrist and then shivered. No...I'll start slow...she thought and moved the knife to her arm. She began to carve into her flesh, wincing as she pressed the blade into herself. The sweet smell of sultry blood filled her nostrels and her lips curled into a sad smile. The blood dripped from her arm, covering some of the grass under her. She wrote very small, but very deep. Within a few moments, she had "Lost" carved into her flesh, which was tainted with blood. Her hands shook and she pressed the blade once again into her flesh, this time begind her stomach. As the seconds passed, her thoughts began to melt away and she just started slicing at herself carelessly. There were small and long gashes across her stomach and she just didn't care at this point. The urge to see more and more blood made her mind blank out.
Her blade was coevered in her blood, which now seeped out of her body like a small river. She put her blade on her wrist, determined to finally end her life. "Goodbye..." she whispered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"MEREDITH!" a voice screamed. Meredith opened her eyes and saw Mr. Blair above her, his eyes enflamed with shock and fear. "Oh my lord!"
"Mr. Blair...I am sorry I failed you," she said. "I am worthless."
"We have to get you to a doctor!" Mr. Blair said, taking the knife out of her hand. "So much blood..."
"No...no doctor...no parents...I can't bare to see them...I have failed them all...they all hate me..."
"No they don't! Here," Mr. Blair said and helped her up on her feet. Her jeans and shirt were tainted with blood. His look was frantic.
"I beg you...no doctors...no parents...t...take me away form here..." Meredith was whimpering and crying. her eyes were clouded and she stared blankly at her teacher. He seemed to be struggling inside on what to do. He sighed and nodded in understanding and grasped her un-cut arm.
"I guess I can take you to my place for now, until you calm down. I live just around the corner, anyway," he said. She nodded a little and he noticed her notebook by their feet. He picked it up and handed it to her. "I am going to bring my car around. Don't go anywhere," he said as he ran off. Meredith's gaze was blurry. She felt the cool air brush against her cuts, and the cold exposure made her twitch.
She heard a rumbling sound and saw a blurry car in front of her. Mr. Blair got out and helped her into his car. "Now stay still. We'll be at my place soon," he said. Meredith nodded and closed her eyes.
I am in his car...on the way to his house...am I going to heaven? Her mind swam with ideas, but eveything disappeared within a few moments.