"What?" she asked.
"Nicolette, I'm gay. I'm a lesbian. I like girls, not guys. Do you understand me?" The look on Nicolette's face was quite disturbing. I was afraid of what was going to happen next.
"I lied."
"So you've been gay this whole entire time? Wait, you're not friends with me because you like me, are you?"
"No, I-"
"But-"
My eyes began to water, my vision was beginning to blur. I didn't want to cry in front of everyone. So I got up as quick as my body could move and strode to the trash cans by the door where I threw the rest of my hotdog away.
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School hadn't gotten any easier as the days went by. During class no one wanted to be around me. In science I had no lab partner because Victoria still hadn't shown up at school, and no one else wanted to be my partner. I had overheard conversations about how Victoria switched schools because of how humiliated she was about being gay. I was humiliated also, but I had no excuse to skip school. I had no excuse because I haven't told my family about my secret yet and I didn't want to tell them. If Nicolette ran off crying after I told her the news, who knows what my own mother would do.
So my life was utterly hopeless. All I did was wake up in the morning, pretend I'm as straight as can be to my family, get to school and avoid the stares and cruelty, eat lunch in the bathroom because I can't stand sitting alone at a huge lunch table, go to class and miss Victoria even more, go home and act unbelievably happy to everyone, lock myself in my room and cry, and then finally go to sleep to only wake up and do the exact same thing again, and again. It was a never-ending cycle of taunting and torturing. I began to lose sleep, my skin turned a sickly pale color, and eventually I began to put myself into what most people call, depression.
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And on one Saturday night when everyone was out of the house, I locked myself in my bedroom. I took scissors out of the cup holder that was sitting on my desk and I sat myself down in the chair.
I swallowed hard as my fingers gently wrapped the pair of scissors. I examined the blades. They were so clean and so sharp; they could easily cut a piece of paper... or anything in this case. I put them on the desk and set my hand to my head.
This was officially the highlight of the night. A few weeks earlier I had never thought that I would do something so harmful to myself. But I felt like it had to be done.
I picked up the scissors again and opened them. I pressed one blade onto my skin. Then very slowly as I pressed down, I dragged the blade across my wrist. It made an incision in my skin and blood began to pool out. The red liquid streamed down my wrist and dripped onto the floor. I didn't feel any pain. Why would I? I've already been through enough pain at school, so why would a little cut in my wrist even hurt?
Suddenly, tears began to slowly trace down my cheeks as I made another cut into my wrist. My breathing became unsteady and my hands began to shake. I dropped the blood stained scissors onto my desk as more flowing red fluid fell, staining the carpet below. I clutched my red wrist as reality set in and I began to feel the pain. I felt it all. No one cared about me. No one cared anymore that I existed.
I bent forward and set my forehead on my desk, with my cut wrist resting on my legs. My long hair fell forward and attached to the sides of my dampened face. I cried harder than I had ever cried before. Even though my eyes were squeezed shut, my tears were still pouring out. I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to die. I just wished that I would bleed to death right there. I couldn't believe my life had come to this.
Then all of a sudden I heard the door handle on my bedroom door squeak as if someone on the other side was trying to turn it.
Then all of a sudden I heard the door handle on my bedroom door squeak as if someone on the other side was trying to turn it.
I sat up and looked towards the door. The door handle began to jiggle frantically now. Someone was really trying to get into my bedroom. My heart was beating at a fast rate. No one was home. Nobody was home so who in the heck would be trying to get into my room. I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting to let the person on the other side of the door know that a teenage girl was in the room.
After a few seconds of the door handle jiggling, it stopped. Everything was silent.
I stood up and was about to walk to the door when this little sound began. It sounded like a key in the door handle. The person had found the key to my bedroom door.
I was frozen on the floor, I couldn't move. And once the door was finally opened, the person who was standing there was a total surprise to me.