Field Trip to Happiness (caius volturi × reader)

Italien Class

⚠️TW: self h@rm, verbal abuse⚠️

I'm surprised how one class could fuck up my entire mental state. I never wanted to take a language class, especially Italian. I originally wanted to take Art class for two reasons.

One, a lovely girl who I actually don't know personally went there, she was very nice when we first met. I was new at Forks High and she offered to give me a tour, her name is Alice Cullen and she's apparently a pretty popular girl along with her family. I wanted to befriend her but I also don't like interacting with people.

Reason two, I LOVE drawing. It's something I'm quite passionate about. I've always felt art is another form of sharing your emotions. Although mine have become pretty....depressing.

I couldn't join art class this year because it was already full. My second option was choir, another thing i love doing is singing, but that wasn't available either.  All the elective classes were unavailable so I had to go into Italian class which had more space. I could see why, the class was messing with me. I knew nothing about the language nor was I interested, why learn a language that I won't even be using most of my life.

My Italian teacher Mrs. Caruso was very strict and hard on the class, more likely me because I would always ignore the lessons. I was failing miserably and as parents are as always, they were disappointed in me, guilting me, making it look like one class with an F would ruin my life. They weren't in entirely wrong. The more they kept doing it the more sad I got, to the point where I would cut my bare skin. I saw the blood as pain that I had been bottling up and cutting it free would make me feel the weight of my shoulders.

The only thing that would actually help is music, and drawing. I had friends to talk to, but I was afraid if I shared with what I went through they would never stop bothering me about. So I decided to leave them alone, I was alone and now had no friends. And I actually quite liked it, it does get lonely, but it was pretty good. Friends are too much drama anyway.

"Y/N dinners ready!" I heard mom yelling from downstairs. I put on my slippers and ran down from my room in the attic to the dinner table to join my mom and dad. It was quiet for a good minute until my dad broke the silence "I got a call from school saying you still have an F in Italian. Are you even trying? My once straight A daughter has become a failure". I almost broke out into tears but I held them in. "You know I didn't want to be in Italian so why try doing something I'm not interested in?" I spoke up. My mom quickly defended my dad "That's not what matters Y/N all your supposed to do it succeed! And that's not what your doing. Shame on you.".

I quickly ate my dinner and ran back into my room. I stood in the middle of the room silently before I got my box cutter and poured my bottled pain away. I then cleaned the blood of the box cutter and layer in bed crying myself to sleep.

Yeah. Fuck you italian class.

*sorry if I wasn't a good chapter*