I rush inside the house and close the door quickly behind me. I Look through the peep hole, and decide to lock it just in case.
I call for my father in the hall. No answer. "He must be out at work still," I think. "Of course...he never has time for me."
My left arm begins to throb. Hesitantly, I look down and see that it's bleeding. I have scrapes and scratches along my limbs. My face had a few bruises itself. I hadn't even noticed.
I limp, tired from running, upstairs to the bathroom to clean my wounds. The image of those bullies pop into my head then:
Me on the ground helpless. Them circled around me; punching me, kicking me, scratching me.
I stare into the mirror.
"Am I really THAT ugly...?" A tear slips down my cheek. I poke at the dark bags under my eyes and collapse my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the rim of the sink. "Does everyone hate me because im ugly...and worthless?"
I know the answer'd be 'yes'.
I don't look into the mirror the rest of the time I'm in the bathroom. I wrap my arms with Bandages and put an ice pack on my cheek. I go into my room to lay down, and before long, I'm sobbing myself to sleep... my usual.
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YOU ARE READING
Beauty and the kid with the Beats
Teen FictionTiffany (16 yr. black girl) is innocent and insecure about her appearance and is bullied on a daily basis because of it. Antonio (17 yr. Italian boy) is a bad boy from the city that lives music, drugs, and getting into trouble. Antonio has to do com...