Chapter 3

                                    

                                          
                   
                          
I woke up late – about twenty minutes later than usual – and had to run around in order to get ready for school and not miss my bus. I must've really been exhausted after writing that letter last night. I grabbed a little bit of food, the words of Anna and those who criticised me echoing in my head as I forced myself to eat it.
                          
My school starts at 8:30, but I always arrived before to try and avoid the few who wait in the playground with the sole intention of hurting me. However, recently Chloe (who seemed to be the ringleader) had been getting there earlier too. 
                          
I'd arrived at the bus stop to see the vehicle driving away. Consequently, I'd only just gotten to school, it was 8:35 and I knew that I would get a late mark, but I had to get past the group of disgusting people first. I was a little breathless after having to run the long journey, and I was already scared.
                          
 I tried to put my head down and avoid them but they managed to get me into a corner by the bike shed. 
                          
I heard the insults first: "Hey mute girl?", "Where's your mummy? Oh yeah, she's in hell after killing herself so she doesn't have to see you and I bet you want to be with her right now, don't you?"


                          
A crowd began to gather around. I was encircled by a group of unpredictable teenagers that just wanted to cause me harm and bring me down. I prayed for a teacher to intervene but I knew in my heart that no action would be taken – they didn't care about me. No one cared about me.
                          
I felt the first punch land against my stomach and I tried to resist the need to throw up what little food I'd eaten. I tried to force my body to relax and accept the punches, the violence, and the threats. It wouldn't last for long.
                          
As predicted, I stumbled into first period with newly formed bruises all over my frail, aching body and my hand holding a bloody tissue as I tried to pause the flow of blood from my nose. I stumbled to my seat at the back to the classroom and tries to concentrate on the lesson I was in. Maths. 
                          
I always found this class difficult and it was even harder when the pain seemed unreal and I almost felt like I was having an out of body experience. I was struggling to balance the pain with the stress of not understanding trigonometry for my upcoming SATs exam. 
                          
The teacher asked me a question, I think she knew I didn't know the answer because she (as well as the whole class) erupted in laughter when I fumbled over my own words in order to form a comprehensive answer. I tried. It was wrong.
                          
I always try. It's always wrong.
                          
I think now you may understand why I haven't told anyone about what I'm going through. Because the teachers won't help. In a way they are the bullies too.
                          
I immediately ran to write an email as soon as I got home. Well, hardly running, it was more of a fast synchronised limp. My stomach, arms and legs hurt so much. I ached all over and I didn't need to look to know my skin would be even more colourful than it was yesterday.
                          
I tried to swallow the sob that was trying to leave my throat at the thought of my body being a canvas for other people's anger issues. 
                          
I knew my homework needed doing and I still didn't understand anything to do with maths but tears were already starting to leak out of the corners of my eyes and I tightened my grip on my iPod hoping that it would load quickly and that I would be able to write another letter. I needed to distract myself from the thoughts of today because I couldn't mourn over my pain all the time. Despite the email's subject only being about my selfishness and my pain, it would help.
                          
I knew that it would never be opened but I needed the release of writing about my problems – getting them out of my system, so to speak. I hoped that the writing would be relieving and, in a way, therapeutic. I needed to stop thinking about it and I just really wanted to write it down and make it go away. 
                          
To: [email protected]
                          
From: [email protected]
                          
RE: <no_subject>
                          
Hello,
                          
Again, this is not the happiest of letters, well emails but I guess you understand what I mean.
                          
After sending my previous email, it seemed that this is one of the best way to just let go of everything in my life. I don't mean it as in death, just an easy way to relax. Therapeutic, in a very strange sense.
                          
I was at school today. 
                          
I hate it so much, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. They were there and they hit me and they kicked me and they left me bruised and broken and with a bloody nose. It's not my fault that I don't talk, I can't talk now, it's been so long.
                          
What does my voice even sound like? I can't remember.
                          
It's gone along with my happy days and my happy memories and my parents.
                          
I've had 'Helena' stuck in my head all day. I hate it, it always reminds me of Jam. I still can't get over that he's gone, even though it happened months ago. 
                          
I hope he's okay, though. He was in rehab, last time I heard, but they'll never let him come back to London because of the horrible memories and things they left behind. I think that includes me, they left me behind because I'm nothing more than a bad memory.
                          
I'm sorry.
                          
Love forever,
                          
A M          
                          
n