GHOST GIRL ; scaramouche

II

you walk into school again. the judging stares of your classmates hit your back, and you hurry to sit down.

you hate being late, but the train was delayed today. you hate being late, because people all look at you when you enter class. it's okay, scaramouche was even later than you.

strange, he takes the same train as you.

the fact you were late made you a little frustrated, though. it doesn't look good on your record.

class starts, and don't say anything the whole time.

'if i lay, very still, and don't say anything. people forget i'm even there. and it's like i'm transparent.'

you wish things were different. maybe if you were strong enough to tell someone how badly you were struggling.

it felt like you were barely afloat, and the feeling of drowning didn't even hurt anymore. maybe you didn't want to get better, maybe you just wanted to drown and not have to think about it anymore.

or were you waiting to be saved? for a saviour to come and pull you out of the tide, telling you that you were good enough and everything was okay.

but that's just a distant fantasy. no one knows, no one cares about your pain. that's enough to shut down any hope you have.

you leave class, and a girl pushes you out of the way so she can leave faster. you don't say anything or speak up, and just let her go. It tugs on your heart a little, though.

someone comments on how quiet you were previously, saying "why do you look so depressed [y/n]? are you going emo?" she jests. you feel the frustration pour into you again. you laugh it off awkwardly nonetheless.

at lunch, a boy spills some water on your shirt. you shout at him in frustration. It's just water, i'll dry off in no time considering the sun, but you're so damn tired. everything is pissing you off.

"it's just a joke! honestly [y/n], why do you have to be such a bitch?" he looks at you, annoyed that you had such a reaction over something so little.

you punch him. dead in the face.

blood starts to drip down his face, and a teacher is called over. you're called into the office to discuss your behaviour.

as they talk about the school's 'zero-tolerance to violence', your head is screaming at you. why would you do that? it's not like you. why do you have to ruin everything?

you try to bring up the fact he spilled water on you and they say it was just an accident. lucky for you, that boy is about ten times more popular than you, so everyone rushes to defend him.

"[Y/n]'s a bully."
"And she wonders why she has no friends."
"God, she's so annoying! I can't stand her, personally."

you can't help but question how people can say all that shit without even knowing you.

when everyone testified, there was only one person who didn't rush to side with the boy, or pretend they didn't see anything.

Scaramouche. he said that from what he saw, the guy clearly did it on purpose to aggravate you. the teachers didn't believe him anyway.

it's not like you knew him well or anything, it's weird why he would defend you like that. you're probably overthinking it, no one really cares for you anyway.