WARNING: this chapter contains graphic content that may be unsettling to some readers. Read at your own risk.

I walk back into the school, feeling out of place while I look at all the other students dressed in actual colors, smiling, and ignoring me. I'm such an outcast. I walk slowly and recognize how everyone is so happy. It feels like they're teasing me with their happiness. I wonder what their lives are like. Are they anywhere near as bad as mine? I'm interrupted from my stalking when I bump into someone. I look up. It's Bad Boy Marcus.

"Hey new girl." He says, smirking down at me.

I hate how he's taller than me.

I try to shove past him but he grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving. My heart drops in fear.

I turn around. I try to look angry but I know he can tell how scared I am.

"You weren't in the cafeteria. You could've sat with us." He says, pointing to his 2 friends beside of him.

He let's go of my arm, and I take that chance to run down the hallway before I have a full on panic attack.

"Bye new girl!"

I rush into the bathroom, go into a stall, sit on the floor, and catch my breath.

—————————

I continue through the day. Bad Boy Marcus doesn't bother me. Luckily. I can't stop thinking about it. For some reason, I don't let go of things quickly. I couldn't get over the familiar fear I felt when he grabbed me by my arm like that.

FLASHBACK:

I am walking through the hallway. First day of 9th grade. I was terrified. Last year I got bullied, the year before that I got bullied, and the year before that. Ever since 6th grade. Why am I feeling like this year will be any different? I have a little bit of hope that maybe I will make friends that aren't fake. Maybe this is the end of this bullying pattern. Maybe it was a waste of tears, months and years of tears wasted. Maybe I could face my fears, and stand up for myself. I'm brought out of my happy thoughts and reminded how worthless I am, when I'm walking down the hallway and a boy grabs my arm. It stops me in my tracks and my heart drops. My heart beat speeds up. Before I can look back it him, I am spun around, causing my face to hit the locker. I scream. He grabs my other arm, and twists them behind my back. I scream in pain again.

"Shut the hell up." He grumbles into my ear.

"I've heard about you. I hope you know how worthless you are. Why can't you do everyone a favor and kill yourself?"

I begin to cry. He twists my arm more, and then slams me against the locker again. His grip on my arm releases, and I turn around. I feel warm blood falling down my face. I sink down on the locker, my vision going blurry as it often does when I want to see more blood. I went into the school bathroom, slammed my pencil sharpener against the ground, breaking it, then I take the blade out and...

THE PRESENT:

That was the year I was sent to the ward. It wasn't that same day, but it was that same year. The year of Grade 9. Now that I'm in grade 12, at a different school, my worst fear is for people to begin bullying me just as they did at my past schools. That same fear rushed through me, when Bad Boy Marcus grabbed my arm. He grabbed it with the same amount of force. It was so familiar, too familiar.

The school day eventually ends, and I walk home. I listen to NF through my headphones as I walk home. My dad isn't home when I get there. I go up to my room to change clothes. I put on black basketball shorts, take off my shirt, and put on a hoodie. I leave my hair down, and frizzy. I pull the hoodie over my head. I lay down in my bed, just laying there, staring at my ceiling. Allowing my emotions to control me. My mind begins to worry, and then before I know it, I'm crying. Then I'm crying hysterically, and then I'm crying to the point where it's hard to breathe. It felt like the walls were caving in. I sit up and hug my knees, allowing myself to sob. Before I know it, I'm crying out, saying "I miss you mommy", and "I need you mommy", out loud. I'm screaming after an hour. The crying eventually slows down, and I run out of tears left to cry. I lay down, falling into a nap. I remember when my mom was alive, the world felt so bright. Even when things were going terrible, I could still smile and laugh when she was around. I felt like the world was bright. But it was just our little world. The world in between us wasn't the best, but she always worked things out. But she's not here to work out my problems for me anymore. And I don't know how to work them out on my own.

FLASHBACK:

"Are you listening, Bri?" My mom said. She looks at me in her rear view mirror. Dad was passed out in the front seat, snoring.

I take my headphones out, noticing she's talking to me.

"Huh?" I say.

"Do you hear your father? He's snoring like a cow." My mom laughs.

"A cow?" I mock.

"Yup."

We both bust out in laughter. She looks at me one more time in the rear view mirror before returning her eyes to the road. We were on the way to New York. We live in San Francisco. We wanted to visit because we loved the idea of everyone being close, and everyone knowing each other. The fact that even when you feel like you have no one, it's still impossible to be alone. We wanted to visit, just for fun. I was eight years old. I was listening to music on my moms tablet. It was a 44 hour drive.

She focuses on the road, and I put my headphones back in. I end up falling asleep. I wake up to my parents talking. It was dark out now. They were mumbling quietly about how we were having trouble affording the rent. It wasn't the best thing to hear your parents talk about. I hated it when they talked about money problems. But I was barely awake. Everything was blurry because I was exhausted.

"You tell me how we are going to afford the rent, Isabelle?" My dad says, raising his voice a bit.

"Shh..you're gonna wake up Brianna." My mom says.

"No I'm not. She's sound asleep." He says.

He was wrong. My thoughts were cloudy but I could hear their conversation.

"Still, she shouldn't have to worry whether we will be able to keep our apartment or not." My mom says.

Wait, is it that bad?

We might have to move?

"Shut the hell up with all that crazy talk! We are going to keep this apartment! I don't care if we both have to work our asses off, we are keeping it." He shouts.

I flinch slightly at his raise in tone.

He loves my mom, but we had a lot of money issues, and it can cause people to be frustrated.

"Lower your voice Marshall!" My mom whisper-shouts.

"Why? You don't want our precious daughter to know that we might end up on the streets, wondering where the hell our next meal will come from?" He shouts.

We were on the highway. Couldn't they argue at home? I'm exhausted.

She glares at him.

"You need to shut the hell up before I reach over this seat and slap the hell out of you." My mom threatens.

"Hit me then! Hit me! Knock me the hell out, I'm sure your daughter would love to see you do that." My dad practically screams.

My mom was still staring at him.

"You know I would never hit you, baby! But you're taking things too far! I'm sick of fighting!" My mom shouts.

"No! No, I don't know that. You make me seem so bad, so if you wanna go, just go! Cause I don't got all this time to keep trying!" He yells even louder.

At this point, I was fully awake.

"I hate what you've done to me, and what you dare to do in front of our daughter. I hate you! I hate that I love you so much!" My mom shouts at him.

"You don't love me." He scoffs.

"Yes I do baby, but you raise your voice in front of our daughter. She needs to understand that a man doesn't treat a woman like that. Does it even hurt you to some degree?" My mom whines.

"Does what hurt me? Being honest in front of our daughter?" He shouts.

My mom nods.

"No! No the hell it doesn't because she needs to know the truth!" My dad shouts.

"I stopped shouting, why are you still being loud?" My mom asks him, raising her voice to do so.

"Because I'm tired of this shit. I'm so tired, and you can take your ass out of my life because I'm sick and tired of this."

My mom is still staring at him. Not focusing on the road.

"I deserve better, I can't believe you would dare to say these things to me! You're supposed to love and care for me! We are going through a rough spot and if you don't wanna be here for me, please just be here for Brianna." My mom begs.

That's when I see headlights coming. But they don't see them because they are glaring each other in the eyes.

"There's-" I begin, But my voice is quiet because I'm tired.

"Mommy! Daddy!" I say again, still quietly.

They both look back at me.

I swallow and cough once. I see the headlights getting closer and my eyes go wide.

"What is it sweetie?" My mom asks.

My dad sees my eyes go wide and immediately turns around.

"Isabelle!" He yells.

My mom turns around, and I scream. Everyone screams. Things seem to go in slow motion as the large truck slams into our car, causing both vehicles to spin and hit the side of the metal highway railing. The truck hit the front left side of the car where my mom was sitting. I heard her scream in pain. And then once the cars were done spinning, the same side of the car rammed into the highway railing. The front windshield was shattered, along with the back windshield, and my door was pressed in. I could hear me and my father breathing heavily. But I couldn't hear my mom.

"Mommy!"

"Mom!" I shout.

My dad looks back at me, his face and body covered in blood.

"Stay still, Brianna!" He yells.

I disobey and crawl to the front, ignoring the horrible pain in my body from the crash. My nose was busted from slamming into my moms chair and my head hurt from my head slamming into my window. I also had cuts from the back windshield glass.

I look at my moms face. Her lips were slightly parted, her face bashed in and skin missing. Shards of glass were in her face. Her face was pouring blood. Her side was bashed in from the door. I begin to cry and I grab her bloody shoulders and shake her body. Her body is cold, and she isn't showing any response. I scream and cry, "mommy come back!", "mommy I need you!", "come back!". I scream over and over again. I scream as my father pulls me away from my mom, he holds me back and I make my way to the back seat. I needed to get out of that car. Quick. I couldn't breathe. I get out the door that wasn't bashed in. When I get out, my legs are weak, and I fall to the ground, coughing out blood. Some stranger comes up to me. I look up and see the red and blue lights that I hadn't noticed before. The guy in black, or was it blue? He grabs me by my shoulders and I can't move. I can't talk. I try to tell him what's going on, but I can't move, or talk. I can just cry. I was in shock. I see my dad, crying, looking at me. The policeman picks me up and I manage to scream. Next thing I know, I'm put into an ambulance. My mom was dead. I couldn't believe it. The person I loved the most was no longer breathing. I stayed in shock for 3 days..didn't eat...didn't sleep...didn't talk...didn't move. They couldn't work on me fully until I was out of shock. But luckily, barely anything was wrong with me. Yet my mom was dead. How? How was I barely injured? Yet she was dead? My hip was sore, and my nose broken, and lip busted. Also my head was busted and they said I was close to a concussion. But they fixed my head. But my mom? She was..she is..she's..gone?