The High School Monster | Teen Ink

The High School Monster

April 3, 2015
By MelindaKai BRONZE, Lenoir City, Tennessee
MelindaKai BRONZE, Lenoir City, Tennessee
3 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"But in life we don't usually get to choose our defining moments. We just have to stand and face them when they come no matter what sort of state we're in." - Darren Shan


I feel like a monster in my own skin. I am a human although people don't treat me like it. They laugh at me, call me names. Sometimes they throw things at me. I have always been different. I have one leg that is smaller than the other and I hunch my shoulders. I wear the same clothes, I talk the same, yet they don't care. They laugh at my pain. Gym teachers make me sit out because I can't keep up with the normal students.

 

It makes me feel even more like an outcast. I have never had a friend other than my dog. I never tell people that, because that would be one more thing for people to mock me with. I talk to my dog sometimes because he's the only one who sees me for who I am and doesn't judge me for my looks. I hate standing up in class because girls immediately talk about me behind my back. I can hear their whispers and it hurts. I walk into a room and everyone turns to watch me limp to my desk. I sit at y desk and something stabs me. I stand up and find thumbtacks in my seat. Everyone starts laughing. The teacher looks up from his desk and sees me standing. He thinks I've done something and sends me into the hall.

 

I sitdown, leaning against the wall. People who pass me by veer off in a different direction when they see me. They are scared of me. I wait for the hall to clear out before I weep. I hold my sides as my shoulders heave with every sob. Oh, how I wish I was normal, I think to myself. Will it always be like this for me? The teacher walks out and tells me to come back in. He gives me a nasty look and I walk in ready for the snickering from my peers.

 

I feel like weeping again, but I know I can't. I can't look any weaker than I already do. On the seat of the chair "Hunchback of Notre Dome" is written on my desk. Hoe do people not think that they are hurting my feelings? I am a person just like them. Why can't they see that? I sit down anyway acting like nothing happened.

 

After class, I walk to my locker. I stop when I see papers scattered on the floor and my locker door smashed open. My books have been torn to pieces and the pictures I have are torn and drawn on. On the door in red paint reads the word "Freak." I collapse on the ground and break into sobs once again, not caring what everyone thinks. I know thats what I am. So many people say it and I'm starting to believe it about myself.

 

I feel someone close to me and I get ready to feel something hit me or be poured over my head. Instead, a gentle hand pats my back. I stare up at this person and see her starting to pick up my books and put them back in my locker. Everyone around us stares back in shock. I wipe the tears from my face and start to help. We shove my locker closed as best as we can and she puts an arm around my shoulders. Her eyes are two different colors and she towers over me. She guides me to the principals office.

 

After our meeting she tells me, "I hope you'll sit with me at lunch from now on. I never had anyone who can relate to my feelings." I nod my head and give a little smile. I've never felt this appreciated in my entire life.

 

"Thank you." I say quietly.


The author's comments:

Everyone is human and has feelings. No matter how they look.


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