Everyone Has A Story | Teen Ink

Everyone Has A Story

October 21, 2019
By HeatherAndHarper, Jefferson, Texas
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HeatherAndHarper, Jefferson, Texas
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Favorite Quote:
"I don't know..."


Sarah Carson woke up to hear a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Sarah? Honey? It's time to get up, okay?" She looked to the door where she knew her guardian was waiting outside.

"O-okay..." she whispered and slipped out of bed. It was a Monday again. Time to go back to school. She kind of liked this school, the work was challenging enough for her and the teachers were good friends with her therapist so they let her do things not everyone else could do.

She brushed her long, brown hair. She was grateful for her long hair, it hid her face a lot, but failed to hide her arms and legs.

She took a look at the scars and bruises on her body, a painful reminder of her past- not like she'd ever forget it.

After slipping into a purple long sleeved shirt and skin colored tights, to cover the bruises her hair could not cover, she got into her black skirt and flats. Sarah walked out of her room to find her guardian and his nearly adult son in the kitchen.

"Morning Sarah, ready for school?" asked Jacob, smiling at her as he downed a cup of coffee. Even though he was legally her brother, he was still a stranger to her. She didn't feel comfortable talking to him, or even being near him for that matter.

"Y-yeah." She spotted her backpack sitting on the counter next to two lunch boxes, one was smaller than the other. "C-can we g-go now?" 

Her guardian, James Harley, sighed. "You haven't even eaten breakfast yet. You have to eat something. At least so you can take your medication."

"I-I'm not hu-hungry..." 

He ignored her words and handed her a small plate with a peeled orange and cookie laying on it.

"At least eat this Sarah, you've got to take your medication and your not supposed to have it without food." She sighed and sat down defeatedly, slowly nibbling on her cookie. Twenty minutes, after swallowing her pills and giving herself a shot, she stood by the door with medicine box in hand and backpack on back.

Jacob grabbed her lunch box and followed her to the door, handing it to her.

"Alright sis, let's go." 

She got into the car after him and she sat silently in the backseat, trying her best not to think about anything. It was hard.

Instead, she counted the stop signs she saw on the way to school. She wished her life would obey that sign. She wished it would stop for a minute. Not end, just pause and rewind. Rewind to a better time. A time long, long ago. Back to when she had been happy. Back to when she had everything.

Finally, she made it to school. A huge school for the gifted. Only the best in music, sports, math, science, history, or English were accepted. In her case, it was English, especially writing.

Jacob stopped the car at the front entrance so she could get out. He looked back and smiled at her.

"Bye Sarah." 

She pressed her lips into a thin line, the closest to a smile she could muster. Then she walked out of the car, holding her little medication box close to her chest as her only source of comfort.

She looked at the clock as she walked in.

8:30.

School started at 8:00, but she didn't have to be there until 8:30. All the people and loud noises were too much for her, but her doctors said she couldn't be homeschooled because she needed to continue to take baby steps on the road to recovery.

Recovery.

That was a thought that nearly made her laugh. As if she'd ever recover. She'd been working with doctors and specialists for three years, nothing had changed. Nothing was different. She still felt the same.

Lonely and sad.

No one understood what she went through. No one else had gone through it, yet they claimed to understand her and want to help her.

She could barely comprehend it herself.

Recovery.

Ha.

If it meant she would never have to think about what had happened, she'd be fine with never recovering. Never think about the pain she had been through. If she could forget all the pain, she would happily continue to take the horrid-tasting medicines. She wouldn't care if she had to stab herself with a needle every day. She wouldn't even care if the cuts and bruises tattooed over most of her body never went away. If only she could forget.

But that's not how life worked. You cannot forget the past, nor can you erase it, for the past is what creates the future.

But she didn't give a damn.

If it meant she would have to sacrifice all she had now to go back and change the past, or even just to forget it, she'd do it.

She knew if she ever got the chance, she wouldn’t hesitate.

No matter what they told her, she will never recover and she knew it. Living life normally would never be an option. 

Recovery would never be an option.

Without making a sound, she opened her locker and placed her items inside, taking out what she needed. Her breathing was the only sound in the empty hallway.

This was the other thing she loved about the school. It seemed made for her; The campus was huge, and they had several buildings. Her locker was the furthest away from all the classes and noise, except for at lunch time.

Turning around, she walked back into the part of the building which held the classes and began the slow, tedious trudge down the disinfectant-smelling hallway toward her first class.

She tried to focus on the patterns the looming shadows made on the popcorn ceiling, laughing and jeering at her.

"Hey! Look out!" 

Sarah’s eyes darted back to the path in front of her just in time to see the boy fall. Falling is an odd sensation, you feel simultaneously like you are in that stage of weightlessness for hours and mere seconds. Yet Sarah hadn’t enough time to so much as look dejectedly down at the floor as it reached up to embrace her like an old, forgotten friend.

Thud.

The wind was ripped from her lungs as she hit the cold, wet floor. The two collided into each other, as if their ice-skating routine had taken a terrible turn for the worst.

She winced, everything a blur of too-bright colours. The familiar fuzziness told her that her glasses had once again gone missing. The heavy breathing and extra limbs told her there was a person on top of her. 

A person.

People were not to be trusted. 

People were not okay. 

And this person was definitely too close for comfort. Luckily she didn’t have to mention their close proximity as he scrambled onto his feet, stammering awkwardly. 

"O-oh I'm sorry! Here let me help you!" A blurry blob of golden tan extended towards her and it took her a moment to understand why it was there.

He was trying to help her. 

A simple kind gesture. Nothing bad could happen- nor would it... But what were the motives behind the gesture? What events could result from it? Would he throw her back on the floor? Hit her? Break her glasses?

Take the hand. Stop overreacting. He's trying to be nice. You should accept it. 

She pressed her lips into a thin line, one of her trademark expressions. The last time she had listened to that voice in her head. The last time it had whispered those seemingly innocent lies.

No. Not again. What if?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a vivid image. Something she hadn't been able to forget.

"What if they don't like me? What if I'm not smart enough? What if they ask me to read in front of the class?! What if-" A five year old Sarah stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of her. He put his finger to her lips and gave her a reassuring smile. 

"The ‘what if’s and ‘should have’s will eat your brain Sarah. Don't stress the ‘what if’s and the ‘should have’s- everything happens in the way it's supposed to. You can either dwell on it or learn from it. Staying in the land of ‘what if’s isn't good. I know it might seem scary but you've got to try. Who knows, you might even find you like it."

She hesitantly took the blurry hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. 

Sarah fidgeted anxiously. She was certain that something bad was going to happen, yet at the same time she was proud of herself.

Maybe, if things didn't go terribly wrong, although it probably would, then maybe she could possibly make her life a little easier. Recovery would still never be an option. 

But baby steps, right?  



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