Bullied

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Summary

Meet Kylie, a girl who is bullied daily. In her own words: "Every day is the worst day of my life. And it only gets worse. Why does everyone hate me?" Can the new guy save her from self-destruction.

Genre:
Drama
Author:
Krystle Byrd
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
36
Rating:
4.8 9 reviews
Age Rating:
16+

Chapter 1

My name is Kylie Logan and I live in bumfucked egypt, aka Friendsville, Wyoming. Oh and yes, that’s really the town’s name. Every day is the worst day of my life and it only gets worse. Each day starts out pretty much the same way. My dad calls me downstairs to tell me breakfast is ready, he comments on how late i’m going to be (although I never am) and I head into school via the bus. Sounds completely normal right? You may ask yourself why I am so negative, but you will know soon enough. When I get on the bus, I sit in the front because all the self-proclaimed “cool kids” sit in the very back and there’s not much room for anyone like me. I am as boring and average as they come. I am not pretty or unique or special. I have no talents to speak of. I’m just your everyday, run of the mill unpopular girl trying to make sure that she’s invisible.

Sometimes I succeed in being ignored for a good part of the day, but not today unfortunately. Today I failed at being a ghost right from the very beginning. You see, as you will soon realize, I get picked on a lot. According to my dad, it’s a normal part of school to get harassed. He says, “It’s just high school, sweetie. It’s not going to last forever.” Yeah right! He was never the type of person to get picked on. He was one of the “chosen ones,” a popular jock with decent grades and tons of friends. My mom used to tell me that he had always been a hottie before she took off. Even my own mother didn’t want to be around me. She didn’t even really explain why she was leaving. In her brief note, it simply said, I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. Please forgive me. Love, mom. What kind of person does that? How do you just abandon your whole family and run away from your problems like that? No explanation whatsoever. My mother was a coward, but then again, I’m probably not much better.

Remember how I said I failed earlier? Take your time, scroll up and read in case you forgot. Did you find the aforementioned sentence? Congratulations, you are about to bear witness to me chronicling my failures at life. Yes, that’s right, I’m dragging you along with me. I have no one else, but don’t despair. After all, it’s just high school, sweetie. It’s not going to last forever. *sigh* I looked back because I felt stares coming from the back of the bus. Usually I don’t look, generally I pretend not to notice, but this time I did. This is the part where I screwed up. I had to look, because I heard the-guy-i-will-never-be-good-enough-for (aka Jacob Riley) laughing and I wanted to feel included.

They included me alright. Just not the way I wanted.

“Hey slut!”

Damn!

Yes, he was talking to me even though i’ve never actually had sex before. I didn’t even have to look around to know that I was the unchosen one of the day. His spiky brown hair, tan body and brilliant green eyes were burnt into the far recesses of my mind. I had always had a huge crush on him, ever since kindergarten. He only went for narcissistic, stick thin, model gorgeous girls though. The bitchier, the better. As long as they put out he was happy. I really don’t know what I ever saw in him. Although, to be absolutely fair, he had never picked on me until today. He had turned a blind eye when it came to his friends bullying, but today I guess he thought he needed to prove something.

“Why don’t you come back here and sit on my lap awhile? Come on, darlin’. I know you dream about me at night.”

I’m seriously so over this guy. What a dick!

He was right even if he didn’t know it for certain. He waggled his eyebrows at me in a suggestive fashion, dry humping the air. His friends burst into hysterical laughter, some of them high-fiving him, like he was God’s gift to comedy or something. I turned around to hide the fact that I was turning red from humiliation and shame. Why, oh why had I felt the absolutely overwhelming desire to turn around? I should have known that they were laughing at me! Why am I always so gullible? What is so wrong with me that they feel the need to call me out for not being one of them? I shook my head and fought the urge to cry. I would not let them win. Not today. If I cried, it only got worse and more intense.

I couldn’t turn to my dad, because he would just tell me to suck it up and ignore them. He just didn’t understand what it felt like to be picked apart by these vultures every single day of my existence. I turned them in once, or tried to in the 7th grade. It only got worse as the years progressed and even though I’m now in the 10th grade, they haven’t forgotten that I snitched. I’ve paid for it every day since much to my chagrin. In assemblies and such, they always tell you to talk to your teachers and parents to get bullies to stop. They say that grown-ups will protect you from all the gossip, but they forget that adults are humans too. Sometimes they just don’t take it seriously and even when they do, they generally just end up mucking it up worse than before.

That’s why I choose to be silent. I feel like that’s the only way to get through this, because everytime I fight back, I lose not just the battle, but the war. The bus stops at the school and I stand up to get off only to be pushed down again by one of the passing fake-tan-fake-red-haired-fake-boobed-Goddesses (aka Callie Mayfield).

“Losers go last,” she said with an evil smile and a twinkle in her emerald green eyes.

Ugh...

Her friends burst out in laughter once more as they all pointed and mocked me on the way out. While they were exiting the bus I heard random bits of them still going on about how much of a freak I was. I heard things like, “Who does she think she is?” “We showed her!” and the worst of all “Did you see her face? It was the best!”

I wish they’d all just…just….

I couldn’t finish that thought without feeling like a terrible person. My mom used to tell me to treat others like I wished to be treated. I really don’t see how that matters if they just walk all over me anyways. What’s the point in being nice? I let out a shaky, angry breath that I didn’t know I had been holding as a lonely tear escaped, zig-zagging its way down my cheek without my permission. I swiped at it pathetically, not wanting anyone to see how much it hurt, but someone unfortunately had already. The bus driver was looking at me through his mirror, a sad look on his face. Why did he have the right to be sad? He could have stopped it, but he sat idly by and let it happen.

“Are you--?” he started to ask, but I didn’t let him get the chance.

I stormed angrily off the bus and promptly tripped over myself in my rush to get away. I caught myself before anyone saw, I think, but my tears were blurring my vision, causing a temporary blindness of sorts. I wasn’t watching where I was going and almost ran right into the girl that had pushed me down on the bus. I’m glad I didn’t, even though it would have served her right. She yelled something after me, but I walked swiftly away, nearly breaking out into a run. I just wanted to get this day over with. Why wouldn’t they leave me be? I just wanted to crawl into my locker once I reached it, but I knew I wouldn’t fit. I was 5’9” and way too fat for that locker. I deftly unlocked the combination lock that kept it shut and swung open the door to find myself staring back from the inside. I don’t know why I had put the mirror up to begin with, really.

Maybe I had thought it would help me see bullies coming, but it didn’t provide any sort of protection in the way that I had hoped. Wild, brown eyes looked at me from behind glasses that were too big for my face. The freckles that I loathed peppered my nose. My dad always said they were cute, but I knew it was just another physical flaw to be used against me. My long, medium brown hair hung down straight as a pin to the middle of my back. I was dressed in a Marvin The Martian t-shirt and faded blue jeans with black high-top converse in another failed attempt to blend in with the rest of the crowd, but nothing kept me invisible for long. I must have studied my face for too long because a friend of the girl who i had a near miss with on the way into school caught me looking at myself.

“It’s not going to get any better freak. You’ll just get uglier with age, I bet.” She whispered this to me and chuckled, utter loathing written all over her face.

Can’t I just have one minute to myself?

That’s all I really wanted. One moment of peace. One moment where I wasn’t some freak of nature, but they’d never leave me alone. Never. This one didn’t even care that her friends weren’t around to hear what she said. Somehow these people got pleasure from my pain, even though I would never tell them how much it really hurt. Why bother? She was standing way too close for my comfort, her blond curls brushing my shoulders as she leaned in, her cotton candy perfume threatening to suffocate me. Her name was Julia Sloan and she was the most popular girl in school, although I cannot fathom the reason why. She had money and she was head cheerleader, but I don’t understand how that made her so special. She was a spoiled brat who probably wouldn’t know how to work for anything a day in her life. Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief and she always wore way too much makeup for her flawless face. She looked like a real life barbie doll. It was utterly disgusting

I tried my best to ignore her and her spearmint gum-infested mouth that she kept popping. I wanted to tell her to stop chewing like a cow, but I figured that would just get me noticed more. Thankfully the bell rang and interrupted whatever menacing thing she had intended to accomplish. I practically flew down the hall to take my place in the front of the English class I had with Mr. Dudley, which was also known as the loser row. This was the best part of my day, truly. I could honestly focus on something other than all the melodrama around me. The teachers filled my brain with knowledge and I could tune out all the rest. No, the classes weren’t so bad even though the work was long. It was a welcome distraction. It was the in between classes parts that I dreaded. In class I was just another student. In the halls I was a freak-of-nature that everyone used as a punching bag, sometimes literally. So, now you know the secret shame I bear, every single day of my life. Just remember, It’s just high school, sweetie. It won’t last forever.

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