For those who feel lost or abandoned
I ran across the ground, running and panting as I went past trees. I wanted to escape this Hell called "Home". No one understood this pain I was going through so every night when everyone was asleep, I would take a knife and slice it across my skin. The pain and pleasure it brought to me. Though, I kept running. A car was following me. No, please no. I stumbled and landed face first, catching myself with my hands. Pain struck up my arms as all my weight went on my hands and arms. Some weight went on my legs. The car strieked to a stop. My dad came out. He stomped towards me and pulled on my shirt.
"You are grounded for 2 months," he growled in my ear.
"Please...dad..." I started whimpering. He then grabbed my arm, making a bruise. He never abused me but only people at school did. He half pushed me and half let me get in to the car. He got in on his side and drove away. We rode in silence.
My father sighed. "Tell me, what's wrong? Something going on at school?"
I paused. No one knew in my family that I was getting bullied a lot and no teacher believed me. I was being bullied by the quietest person in class but loudest outside of class. I sighed. "No."
Was that the wrong thing to say?
"Alex, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening at school..." my father was getting fed up with my running away from school. It was 3:30 pm. After school, since it let out at 3:15 and if I didn't run, I would get beaten. Then my parents would find out then try to "help". No they couldn't help. They never did. If they found out that I felt alone and afraid, they'd make me have a therpist. I crossed my arms across my chest.
"Dad, everything is fine," I reassured him for the one thousandth time it seemed.
"Alex, you're failing math which you barely ever do. Tell me," he demanded as we pulled into our driveway. We only lived 5-6 miles away from school. I could've walked home but then they would follow me.
I got out of the car, grabbing my bag that my dad had picked up from school. The women at the front desk found it and my dad went and got it. He got it before getting me. I went up to my room and slammed the door, crying on my bed, not like the girls cry. I huddled in a ball and cried for hours. I soon stopped around 5ish. Whimpering 'cause of the pain and crying 'cause of feeling alone. I walked to my mirror and lift my shirt up to find some blood from getting hit. They hit and threw rocks and sticks at me. The main one was named Jessie. He took a long, sharp stick and whipped it across my bare stomach. I shrieked and they almost got caught. I laid on the ground at lunch break for 5 minutes on the ground.
I sighed and continued to examine my wounds. I didn't have a six pack nor fat. I wasn't a nerd just hotter than Jessie. I think...His name was spelt like a girl's which is why I made fun of him in elementary school and I believed he was trying to make up for that. To get payback. This was stupid...I had no way to fight back, but I guess I should. But I felt as if he was still my friend...But those were stupid thoughts. I pulled my shirt down and heard a knock on my door.
"BIG BROTHER!!" my little sister called. She was 10 while I was 15. I walked to the door and opened it. I was 6 foot while she was 5'. I looked down at her.
"Yeah?" I sounded tired. My left eye was bruised.
"What happened to your eye, brother?" she asked, her green eyes widened as she spoke and saw my bruise.
I laughed softly. "Nothing..."
"Tell me." She stomped her foot and it sounded demanding and loud. I sighed.
"You can't tell Mom or Dad, ok?" I asked.
"I'm getting beaten up at school..." I told her, sighing deeply.
My little sister, Bri, gasped softly. "But you're strong, aren't you?"
I shook my head. "Not strong enough." Then I thought...
I'll never be strong enough. If I'm not, how will I be able to protect Bri?...