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Marley has always known something was wrong with her family. No father should leave abruptly, no father should hit their mother in the face like that- no father should be inhaling powder then acting erratically after doing so.
Something was wrong, but it was the only basis of love she had, because at that time, her mother would tuck Marley into bed, then weep in her own room where she thinks Marley would never hear. But the walls were thin, and she could hear her mother’s every choking sob and wonder every night if this was supposed to happen.
The physical abuse never happened to her, but it was punctuated with remarks about how she was never good enough, that he wished he never had her. She was garbage, in his opinion, but her mother would counter-balance that by saying no, Marley, you’re amazing, you can do whatever you want.
It confused her. To this day she wouldn’t understand how she didn’t end up a troubled teen, the resident dropout who acted out because of past issues. She was angry with him at first though, snapping back with fire in her eyes because none of this was right, but he’d always just remind her that she existed because of him, and that he didn’t want her anyways- who would want her, the accident, the one who shouldn’t have been born and was the result of a drunken one-night stand, religious beliefs and someone who cared for her despite not wanting her?
Oh, he cared, all right. Cared enough to let Marley know that even though she was a pathetic, parasitic leech on him, without him, she was nothing.
Girl, why the hell do you even bother?
Without you, I’ll probably still love your mother.
You look ugly. You could stand to lose a few pounds, then maybe you’re worth something.
Why do you break everything you touch, you stupid, careless girl!
… don’t ask me for food. You had more than enough, you’re being selfish.
Marley knew it was wrong but it felt good to be cared about, because her mom was constantly in tears, and even though she snapped back and got screamed at in response, he’d say that he was disciplining her. Her mind fell into a convoluted mess. He was her father, and in school they said that even though their fathers may be strict, they loved their children, and she so desperately wanted to believe that. She thought that maybe, if she could just come up to his standards, it would be okay, he’d stop yelling and disciplining her.
The yelling decreased, the crying did not. She thought that maybe he really was just disciplining her, that he actually cared for her. She was probably a road bump in his life but now he had come to accept her? Maybe?
And then he left.
Marley watched him leave, frozen in fear, unsure of whether asking him to stay would cause him to scream at her. Her parents got into a big argument, and she watched him leave.
Was it something that she did?
I hate you. It’s always your fault.
His last words echoed in her ears. What did she do? She was doing so good, lately. Why did he hate her? She thought he loved her! What did she do? Did she make him leave?
Her mother came down, and hugged her.
“He’s not coming back now.”
It made her feel worse. Was she really such a bad kid that he left? Did he not care anymore that he would never come back? Why? What did she do? She did everything right! She did everything right- her breaths picked up and she shook her head, wildly shaking herself free of her mother’s embrace.
“Why?” Marley protested.
“Marley…”
News spread fast. In days, Marley was known as the kid without a father, or the daughter of a drug dealer, or just simply an accident. She was a freak, emo, retard. When a teacher called her up to present a picture of her family, she had no idea what to put. Around this time, her mother just kept eating and eating and eating, and people started telling her she was going to be fat like her mother too.
A boy shoved her against the locker, forcing her to drop all of her books.
“Is she going to cry, baby fatty?” Someone crowed.
“She’s a bastard! I learned that in English.”
“Wow, wonder what she did to make him leave…”
She started looking for approval and validation somewhere, without directly asking for it. Maybe her father was right- maybe she was being selfish, and without him she really was nothing. She was nobody. She tried to fit in, but all that earned her was a note stuck to the back of her shirt saying ‘pull my hair’ and the girls cornering her after gym, pulling her hair.
People were laughing, pointing, every time she walked the halls that she was convinced there were eyes around her. She tried really hard to fit in, but as money drained, she found that she couldn’t, resorting to more laughter from other kids.
You went to a charity and stole some clothes, fatty?
Wow, broke and fat. Maybe you should cut back on the food spending, huh?
Aw, is she gonna cry? Try calling daddy- oh wait! You scared him away!
Kids were mean. And no matter how hard she tried, she was never good enough. She was fat, worthless, pathetic, nobody loved her, nobody cared, she was the laughingstock of the entire school. She found herself a quiet corner of the school where she would hide, sobbing.
This is… unacceptable work, Marley. You’re not supposed to be like this.
Marley, dear, what’s happened to you? You weren’t always like this.
… Marley, you can’t ask for money… we’re stretched thin at the moment, please…
Parasitic, that was what everyone called her, knowing of her financial state and still calling her fat. So selfish. She kept taking and taking, and she can’t ask anyone for help because she would only bother them. She needs to do it all by herself, because if she relied on anyone else, she would only burden them. She was learning, she was becoming better.
(It was around this point that the physical bullying started.)
“Wow, look at this kid,” a girl sneered as they pushed her against the locker. “So pathetic.”
“P-please…” Marley stuttered. “No.”
“P-please…” the girl mocked. “How stupid. I bet your mom is just as worse.”
“D-don’t t-t-talk about m-my mom like th-that!” Marley snapped. Her mom was working her ass off to support her, and all she did was leech off of her, so in order to pay back for what she took, she would fight for her mom.
This was a mistake. One of the boys shoved her back, slamming her head against the locker as she groaned, before being brutally silenced with a kick to the ribs as she slid to the floor.
“Listen, bitch. You need to stay out of my way. Can’t have your fatty self making this school even fatter.”
“Maybe she should just go kill herself,” someone laughed. “For someone so fat, I don’t think anybody would miss her.”
And that was when it started. Notes threatening her to just kill herself appeared at her locker, her desk, her books. Sometimes, students would whisper it in her ears as she walked past, judging eyes and laughing voices following behind her. On her way home from school she’d get jumped by a bunch of boys who would beat her up and then leave her somewhere far away from home.
It went up a notch.
Marley had always been claustrophobic. The feeling of the walls closing in was like being trampled in a crowd, where she just couldn’t find her way out and she needed to breathe- to breathe.
They shoved her into a tight broom closet, locking the door and leaving her in darkness.
Immediately, her senses went into overdrive. She slammed on the door, gasping, panicking.
“Let me out!” she screamed.
She heard mocking laughter on the other side of the door as she sank in the middle of the room and curled up into a tight ball, feeling like she was in a cage and there was not enough air in the room. The space around her felt heavy and stifling, threatening to crush her.
Pathetic, worthless, useless parasite! Stupid. Good-for-nothing. You deserved this. You deserved all of this. No one wants you! No one needs you! You’d do them all a favour by dying!
Repeated door slams, her dad leaving, her dad screaming, kids laughing, surrounding her, the darkness mocking her with its silence, because she knows out of that silence will come the yelling, the screaming, the laughing that shouldn’t hurt because they were just words and sounds-
Patheticpatheticpatheticpathetic-
She clawed at her arms, trying desperately to stop panicking, but her world was spinning and she couldn’t breathe- she couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was choking and the walls were crushing her bad. It was so bad- she needed to breathe but nothing would allow her to, instead her chest felt like it was going to combust and the tears flowed down her face and her heart hammered in her ears, along with a million other voices echoing in her mind that she was nothing.
The pain was the only thing grounding her. She deserved the pain. She deserved all that pain. It was her fault, wasn’t it? It always was.
When she was finally let out, she had a scolding for playing in there.
The boys repeated it the next week. It never got less terrifying.
When she made the first cut, she watched the blood ooze out and the pain radiate from her arm. It felt good, deliciously so. Different from the beatings, different from the words, the laughter.
It felt good to be in control.
Control. In control of her pain. To be the one torturing herself. She deserved the pain, she knew, but to be the one in control? She did one. She did two. She did three.
Maybe just a few more.
She found this pain addicting. It helped her feel good because in some sick, convoluted way, she was finally giving everyone something they wanted out of her. Her blood.
She deserved it. And she could stop- she was in control.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. Her arms were lined with scars and cuts, and she couldn’t stop- she just had to feel the pain, be in control- stop!
It wasn’t enough.
She stood on the edge of a rooftop, brown hair blowing in the wind. It was so easy. It was so easy to step off the edge and end everything. End her life. Her awful parasitic life that had spiraled out of control, with blood leaking out of every cut she had made, eyes bloodshot and red rimmed from crying, voice hoarse from screaming.
It was all too much.
Go kill yourself, fatty. No one wants you.
No one needs you.
End it.
She stepped off the edge.
But she didn’t die.
You’re a failure in everything, even killing yourself.
It didn’t work.
Her mother had cried, and she felt horrible. So she lied. Lied about how she fell off the building in the first place. She had become an incredibly good liar. They told her she was depressed.
They didn’t do anything about it.
The tipping point was when she was caught in the closet, having a panic attack. They suspended the bullies, they transferred her to McKinley High. She resolved to be stronger, to hide her problems better. It was her fault they had to move.
WORTHLESS!
It didn’t matter. The damage was done. There may be no more notes in her locker, she was irreversibly damaged. As a last parting gift, a bully left a noose for her before she left her previous school. A noose. A badly made one, but the message was clear.
Heard you failed to off yourself, fatty. Go kill yourself. Have fun in hell, bitch.
:)