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My Room

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I come home from school fighting back tears yet again.
My face feels hot and palms are sweaty.
My eye hurts from where he hit me again.
My hands are balled up in fists.
But what can I do.
I love him.

I will never hurt him.
Doing something would hurt him.
This is why I can’t.
This is why I won’t.

I know of one place where my eye will stop hurting.
I know of one place where my boyfriend won’t hit me.
I know of one place where my eyes will not leak tears.
I know of one place where parents don’t divorce.
I know of one place where friends don’t lie.
I know of one place where pets don’t die.
I know of one place where the sun shines through the clouds of despair.
I know of one place where I can be truly left alone in peace.

I am sprinting to my room.

The hall way to my room has never been so long.
Each step I take forward is moving me backwards.
I am hyperventilating.
My eyes are on one thing.

My room.

The endless hall way ends and I am in front of my wooden door.

I love this door.

This door opens to my sanctuary.
This door opens to my refuge.
This door opens to my world.

I am in my room.

I have stopped hyperventilating.
My breath is still quick though.
My hands are not balled up in fists but they are shaking with anger.

I don’t know who I am angry with.
My anger is directed towards someone that my mind will not reveal.

I come to one conclusion of who it is.

ME!

My boyfriend hits me because he knows I don’t disserve him.
My friends lie because they don’t want to be friends with me.
My parents are divorced because neither of them wants to live with me.
Everything is ME!

I appalled that I didn’t see this at first.

A text.

I look at my cell phone and open it to reveal the new text-message.

“Are you okay?” It said.

I didn’t want to reply but I thought it would be rude not to.

“NO”, I send back in full caps.

When I look up from my phone I catch my refection in my small mirror on the desk in front of me.

I am not pretty.
I am disgusted by the way I look.

I drop my phone and grab to small mirror with both hands.
I walk to my window and ply one of my hands off of the small mirror to open the window quickly.
I am still looking at myself in the mirror.
My window is open and I climb out with the mirror in my hand.

My anger is rising.
I am hyperventilating again.

A scream.

The piercing sound hit me like a ton of bricks.
I am almost surprised when I realize it was my scream.

I through the small mirror as hard as I can and it breaks into pieces as it collides with the white fence we have outlining our backyard.

Blackout.

I don’t recall what happened next, only that I fell to the ground and closed my eyes involuntarily.




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This article has 3 comments. Post your own!

Heather M. said...
Aug. 31, 2009 at 10:15 pm:
This was good but the ending was not what was needed for this
 
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krzykrys said...
Apr. 28, 2009 at 10:31 pm:
i rly liked this piece but it was depressing . . the ending was confusing but i liked it.
 
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Kristen W. said...
Apr. 23, 2009 at 4:15 pm:
Your story had a lot of good build up.
But the ending didn't complete your thought in my opinion. I feel like with your talent you can think of something better.
 
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