The bell rings. Lunch time. Dumb kids fumble out of their seats and spill through the door. I take in a deep sigh, and get out of my seat. As I reach the door, I'm stopped by a large mans hand.

I turn my head to see Mr. Hanes, my history teacher. "Tess, may I speak to you?" His face showed concern behind those glasses, so I submit and simply nod. He gestures to his desk, and as we walk over he rolls his computer chair over for me to sit in. I take it, slouching.

"Well, first thing is first. Your grades are poor, Tess. I know you do your work, so why aren't you turning things in?" He asks, typing into his computer with a gleam in his eyes.

"I don't know." I shrug, simply. I honestly don't know what to tell him. He looks over to me with a serious expression, tapping his finger on his desk and lifting his leg slightly. I frown to it, and he returns one in kind.

"Turn your work in, Tess. I know you're smart." He turns away for a sec to look at the computer again, and then looks back. "Next. Tess, why are you going to the bathroom so much?" My eyes widen in shock at his question. It was a suggestive question, like he was accusing me.

It's a shame that his suspicions are correct, but I'm not going to tell him... "I don't know what to tell you. Bladder problems I guess." His stare lies unchanging, as if trying to stare me down. But at the same time, that stare shows concern. I don't need this pity!

"That's it. I'm out." I get up with eyes shut, walking out before I do or say something stupid. He tries to stop me but decides against it. He knows I'll be back, and I appreciate his concern, but I don't want it.

Luckily, for once the hallways are next to empty because I left late. I grab the headphones resting on my neck, and lift them to my ears. I can still hear the clatter downstairs. I will drown out the sound. Soon everything is replaced by the serenade, and I am left to my usual peaceful walks.

But it ends quickly, as the bustling of people downstairs erupt into my head despite everything. There was too many of them. And no matter how much I amplified my music, it was interrupted and blurred in the sounds of the putrid.

I am forced to take my headphones off, and cover my ears. The voices bled through like the knife against my skin. In a hue of horrid screams and chaos, I am left in a bathroom stall. Breath struggling to return as the red stream flows...

The hiss. The sting. It was a familiar venom, but at the same time it was a relief. The voices would quiet when they were satisfied. They would dissipate and dissolve into my cranium.

"I hate everyone..." I whisper, as my eyes begin to well. My lungs quiver, and tears are released under my blonde bangs. They stream down my tightened neck, and soak into my dark hoodie. How many tears has this hoodie tasted? I did not know.

I raise my head to the stagnant fluorescent light above, and I pray for it to blind me. To make me like them. Ignorant, but happy. But know. This hell is meant for me they call. This birth is my curse to bare.

This birth is my curse to bare... No matter how much pain, that isn't an option... suicide isn't an option. A knock breaks the dark smog within this hallowed stall. "Hey, uh. You alright in there?" I look down to find a pair of black and white dress shoes. And the lips of blue jeans.

"I-I... I'm not... I'm really not!" I clasp my head hard in anger, and I sit up and shove the door open, running out of the bathroom without another thought. "Hey! Wait a minute!" His voice is left in the darkness, as other sounds of various kinds fill the room again. The lunch room was still erupting.

I take a breath, pull down my sleeve, and put it back in my backpack. And then I head out into the hellscape, putting my headphones back on, the music returning to my thoughts, and everything else fading away as I wait for the day to end.