FicWad

School is dull. School is monotonous. School is not worth my time.
So I hide under the bleachers. I don’t care that I’m missing a quality education that could get me somewhere someday. For all I care, I’m not worth it. No, for now, I will ignore the bell that rings to signal the hours ending and beginning. I will stay here and watch the birds fly over the field and wish desperately that I could join them.

I don’t notice her approach till she’s standing over me. “Are you all right?” she asks. “Have you been crying?”
I refuse to meet her eyes. She asks too many questions. “I’m fine,” I mumble.
She offers her hand. “I’m Sophie.”
I don’t shake it. “I’m Lacey.”
“Nice name,” she says, sitting next to me.
I nod, trying not to yell at her to get away.
“Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“No, I’ve been here since Kindergarten,” I say.
She smiles. “You must be good at hiding.” I’m not, but I don’t say anything. I decide she can stay next to me. It’s been years since I’ve had a friend. “Did you get in a fight or something? You’re covered in bruises!”
Maybe this friend thing isn’t such a good idea. I stand, mumble, “Something like that,” and start to walk away.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” she calls, scrambling to her feet. But it’s too late. I’m leaving to go cry or something.


I lie on my bed, music blaring in my ears. Music is the only thing keeping me alive lately. I’d probably kill myself without it. I close my eyes and try to think about something happy. So I think of the cute guy who usually walks by my hiding place after school. He never notices me, and a relationship would be as empty as me right now, so I switch my train of thought.
Sophie is…interesting. She seems nice enough, and if she didn’t press so much I wouldn’t mind hanging around her.
Suddenly the blonde skinny bitch who tossed hair over her shoulder flashes in front of my closed eyes. And then I’m thinking of my mother and the bed I’m on seems much less comfortable than before.
I guess depression snuck up on me. When my mom died, I was just sad. But my father, the rich owner of the country club downtown that everyone loves, fell into depression fast. So fast it made my head spin. And then, when it got to be too much for him, he started drinking. I was still just sad. I didn’t let it really get to me. Then Daddy started hitting me, and my grip on everything—my friends, my life, my sanity—slipped. I became depressed, my friends deserted me, and the hate of this world overtook me. I began to cut, and life became a meaningless trek through a world where no one understood or helped me.
Life is petty. Life is painful. Life is like the blood when I cut myself—slipping away down the drain.

I feel my head hit the desk as my eyes close. Today I was caught in my hiding place under the bleachers and told to get to class. Everyone else in the room is taking a test on a book I’ve never read, so I guessed my way through it and now I’m about to fall asleep.
Someone pokes me in the back and I drowsily turn around to see Sophie waving excitedly at me. I force a smile and turn back around. She passes me a note inviting me over to her house tonight. I write a simple “I don’t know” and pass it back.
The bell rings and she stands. “Well, if you can, come.” She writes an address on my hand.
I nod and leave the room.

Tonight my dad’s drunker than usual. He opens my bedroom door and stumbles in. “Whatsamatta, babe?” he asks, taking in my scared face as I get up.
“Don’t come any closer,” I say, holding up my hands to try to ward him off.
He either ignores me or doesn’t hear me. Instead, he comes closer and hugs me. I’m so confused I don’t fight back. He rubs my back.
“You’re so sexy,” he slurs.
I try push him off, but his hands travel down to my ass, trying to slide between my legs. “Get off!” I scream, shoving him off so hard he slams into the wall. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
But he’s pissed now. He attacks me, beating me half to death. Then he leaves me and falls down the stairs. I eventually gather my strength and inch into the bathroom. My eye is black and my lip bleeding. I gaze at my wounds for what feels like forever. I hate my face. I hate my face. I hate my—
The razor gleams at me invitingly. I pick it up, but I feel no need to cut. I want something more lasting. Something to end this pain and hate forever.
I meet my eyes in the mirror and stare into them. Suicide seems like a simple leap into oblivion—away from my father, away from my teachers, away from everything. Paradise. Forever.
I drop my gaze to my hands and notice the address Sophie scribbled there earlier. It’s not a long walk. Making a second’s decision, I climb out the window, inch across the roof, and slide down the old gate (from the fence that went around the old mansion when we first bought it, but took the fence down to give the place a more “welcoming” look) before my father can come back for round two. And then I’m making my way down the street, turning a few times, checking the numbers on the houses until I reach my destination.
A kind-looking woman opens the door. I force a smile and say hello. “You must be Lacey,” she says, her lightly-wrinkled skin stretching into a smile.
“I am,” I mumble. “Where’s Sophie?”
“Um…she’s around here somewhere…Sophie!” she calls in an almost sing-song voice.
I hear footsteps on stairs and then Sophie’s at the door, beaming her face off at me. “Come on!” she practically squeals, grabbing my hand and dragging me along behind her as she dashes up the stairs and into her brightly-colored room. The next few hours consist of her tugging my hair into different styles, applying different shades of makeup, and babbling on and on about some guy she really liked. My job is easy—I need only sit still, check out what she’s done whenever she pauses, and nod every so often to assure her I’m listening to every word that comes out of her mouth. It’s a good distraction from what I came here to avoid—that is, taking my own life.