Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

This is untitled.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
"The scream of a silent girl. Such a cliche name for some kind of story that talks about a girl being hurt. But, do they even know what it is like to be truly hurt? They write about it, putting rape in huge, capitalized letters. They don’t know what it’s truly like to be raped though. How it truly feels. But then again, do many people? Do many people know what it feels like to truly be raped? To know the feeling of being pressed down against a bed, screaming for help. And to be let go.. and live? Not many people know this feeling. Practically no one. I guess I’m..."


“Hannah, focus.” I heard the voice faintly, until a ruler came slamming down on my desk. “I said, focus.” He screeched, snatching the piece of notebook paper I had scribbled upon.

“P-please give that back, Mr. Adams,” I muttered under my breath, daring to look him in the eyes. He looked at me through his glasses, and set down the piece of paper. A sigh of relief clouded over me and I quickly shoved it into my backpack.

“That’s what I thought. Not pay attention, this will be on your final.”

“Yes, sir.”


Mr. Adams. The teacher, I absolutely dreaded. He taught History, and was always so mean to me. Picked on me, called on me, told me to come to the front of class. He knew I didn’t know the answers. He knew. But no, he wouldn’t not call on me, or not pick on me. Mr. Adams almost had to, had to taunt me. So, I listened to him. I listened to him ramble on and on with his strangely deep voice about the constitution. Which I’ve learned about multiple of times... but they thought it would be absolutely necessary to learn about it repeatedly.

The bell rang, interrupting my thoughts. It was probably good that the obnoxious noise broke my gaze, my thoughtful daydream. I stood up, grabbing my books and shoving them in my backpack. Throwing it over my shoulder, I tried to get out of the class as quickly as I could. Before Mr. Adams could stop me, I was already speed-walking down the hallway to my next class. I saw him look out of his class, his eyes boring into my back. I didn’t dare look back... I just kept going forward, focused on my next class.

“Hannah!” I heard my name, but I didn’t slow. I just kept going until I could feel a chilled hand on my shoulder which swung me around. “Hannah!” They repeated.


Giving a weak smile, I muttered a useless, “hey.”

“You alright?” Taylor spoke cheerfully. Before I could even reply to that she was already going on about a story. Good thing I wasn’t listening. I was zoned. I looked down at my feet, focusing on them and everything about them as we moved to our class. Then I looked up at her. I noticed the glow in her face. How her eyes glittered with happiness, and a bold smile crossed her face. Her smile seem invincible, like no one could take it away from her.

“So, do you want to go?!” She shook my arm, “Hannah?”

“Huh?” I sputtered, now focusing on her concerned face. “Yeah, I’d love to go. When is it again?” And what exactly am I going to?

Taylor sucked in a breath, and let it out loudly, shaking her head at me. Soon that look was gone and she was back to her peppy self. “Let me repeat this. My birthday is on May 12. I’m having my birthday on May 10. It’s a friday.”

“Oh right, ‘course.” I smiled, putting on the first smile all day. “I’ll be there.”

“Phew! Okay good. I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t come,” Taylor giggled, shoving me playfully.


I heard footsteps behind us, and we both turned around to see Mr. Adams coming towards us... angrily. “Oh god,” Taylor murmured, the arm that was locked around mine squeezed tighter.

“What are you ladies doing?” Mr. Adams spoke, he spoke sternly and loudly. Taylor refused to give eye contact, but I tried my best to look him straight in the eyes.

“We are on our way to class, sir.” I spat, not trying to be polite at all.

“If you ladies haven’t noticed, the bell has rung.” He spat back, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Oh it has! Oh! Our bad, Mr. Adams. We’ll get to class,” Taylor fumbled. “C’mon Hannah, let’s go,” She pressed, pulling on me. I kept my gaze with Mr. Adams, glaring at him. He glared back. What a man.

“Hannah. I’d like to speak with you after school today. Be there.” He yelled as we scurried down the hallway. I didn’t help to reply, I wasn’t going to go. Hopefully I would be out of campus before he could find me. Let’s just hope...










*






*

4th period. The bell was so close to ringing. I could hear the ticking of the clock as I stared at it. Less than a minute now.. 45... 44... 43. I was debating leaving class early. But my teacher wouldn’t let me go with less than a minute to go. My fingers tapped against desk, with absolutely no rhythm at all. They were just beating into it, my nails trying to dig into the wood. 20 seconds. My teacher was trying to squeeze last minute notes in before the bell; but I didn’t even bother to scribble them down. I was anticipating the bell. I shoved all my stuff into my bag, and I slung it over my shoulder. I looked as if I was about to start a race. My hands now lay on the side of the desk, ready to push off. My feet look as if I’m going to bolt. 5... 4.... 3... 2...

Brrrrrrrring.


I bolted. I sped out of the classroom and tried to get out of the school ASAP. I tried pushing through the crowd of students, which were shoving me around as I tried for the door. I could hear Taylor behind me yelling my name. I couldn’t talk now. People gave me many “watch where you’re going,” “hey get out of the way,” “move it freshman!” I didn’t are what they said. I was focused on the door and that I was going to get away. I couldn’t let this happen again.


I was so close to the door. So close to the fresh air, so close to going home to see my mother. Until I felt something clutch onto my arm, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I only prayed it was Taylor. Praying didn’t help at all...

I was pushed into a classroom, and I could hear the door lock. Shit. I kept my eyes closed, assuming it wouldn’t be any better if I opened them. I felt his hot breath on my neck, and I shivered. “We need to talk, Hannah.” He whispered. I could feel a spray of spit on my neck. I turned away and kept my eyes closed. I knew what was coming.

He sat on the desk, and set his large wrinkled hands on top of mine. I pulled them back and shoved them into my pockets.

“Taylor, why so tense?” He hissed, a hysterical laugh came through him. Just get me out of here, I thought. Over and over. I didn’t know what else I could think. I wanted to die.

I felt his hands over my body, his hands now on my stomach. I didn’t fight yet. I just sat there, and tried to control my breathing. I could feel him shiver, and I imagined the malicious smile that was now across his face. I felt his other hand on my thigh, and felt it move up closer to my private areas. That was when I fought. I brought my hands out of my pockets and took a few swings. I didn’t manage to hit him, but he managed to get me on the floor. I screamed, until a cloth was shoved into my mouth. I screamed through that though, fighting. I threw my limbs everywhere hoping to hit him somewhere. Anywhere. He got a hold of my hands, and pinned them down above my head. I opened my eyes for the first time, breathing hard. His glasses had fallen off. His beer belly was hanging over me, and his face grew closer to mine. I shut them again, feeling his old lips across my whole body. I fought but not as hard. I let my mind go blank, and let whatever happen, happen. I couldn’t do anything anymore...

Everything was blank from then on.

“Mr. Adams to the front office.” I heard the intercom speak. I then felt alone, and empty. It was dark. He was gone, and I was almost gone.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback