Story of a victim 2 [COMPLETED]

Part 9: Tears

*TRIGGER WARNING: Chapter may mention abuse, suicide, self-harm, and/or eating disorders. Read at your own risk.*

2 months later

Sabrina's POV
Let me get you caught up on what happened. My foster family and I moved to the south side of Reston, where Jacob lives. Everyone at school started bullying me, for no reason, may I add. Then Jacob and Kat started calling me fat at school which didn't really bother me. Then they made a hashtag on Instagram called #FattestgirlaliveSabrina
It's really long, but now there is over 1000 post about it. Now I have something close to anorexia. Not quite though. I still eat, just barely any at all.
So basically I get bullied and my so-called "family" doesn't know about it, and I have something close to anorexia and nobody knows.

Tonight Jacob is coming for supper for the trillionth time. I usually eat in my room, so it's not a problem. But tonight Gemma made me eat at the table.
"So Sabrina, I was just curious about something. You've been so quiet lately and I was just wondering if anything is going on that you'd like to tell us," Gemma says. I shuffle in my seat.

"Uh, I don't want to talk about it with everyone around," I mutter, using my fork to play with my food.

"We're all family. Just tell us."

"I don't feel comfortable doing that."

"Well, Sabrina, you are going to tell us. I think everyone has had enough of your nonsense," she tells me. I drop my fork on my plate, causing a loud clinking sound. Everyone looks at me with wide eyes, embracing themselves for what's about to come out of my mouth. Kat and Jacob look terrified that I'm going to give out their little secret, but I don't care anymore. Since karma hasn't gotten to them, I sure as hell will.

"You really wanna know? It's actually a funny story. So Kat and Jacob have been bullying me at school and they made a hashtag promoting three idea that I'm incredibly fat, which you know, can affect someone's self-esteem quite drastically. Guess who has anorexia because of it now?" I sat with an extreme fake smile. Everyone's jaw drops except Richelle, due to the fact that she's too young to understand. Despite the fact that everyone's dumbfounded, nobody makes an effort to speak.

"Wait, you h-have anorexia?" Jacob speaks up in a quiet, squeaky voice. I look down at me feet.

"I... just..." he trails off. I sigh and run up to my bedroom. I shut my door and lay on my bed, closing my eyes.

I can't look at anybody right now. It's too complicated. I just wanna go back to my old life, the good old days, where Jacob and I were happy and so was everyone else. Why do I have to be so abnormal? Why do I have to be depressed all the time? Why is depression a thing? Why does anyone deserve anything bad that happens to them when they haven't done anything?

"Sabrina," I hear a soft outside of my door say.
"Come in, I guess," I say, still not moving from my position. The door opens and in comes Gemma, Kat, and Jacob. I groan and roll over to my side.

"Look Sabrina. I don't feel comfortable having someone with anorexia in my house, so I'm giving you up," Gemma says. I sit up and and look at her with an eyebrow raised. I'm stunned. What if one of her own kids get anorexia? What would she do?

"And I'm not going to tell the school board about the bullying. The only way it affected you was by developing anorexia, so it's not a big deal," Gemma adds. What kinda of a mother is she? It's not just anorexia, it's a huge deal.

"What kind of a mother does not punish her child for this?" I question her. This time she raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not just anorexia, it's a huge deal!"

"Stop trying to get attention for yourself," Kat butts in. All I wanted was for someone to actually...care. They all leave without another word and I sit on the ground with a blank mind. Couldn't somebody actually care enough about me to do something about this? This thought overwhelms me, and I find myself running to the washroom.

Nobody cares. Nobody cares. Nobody cares about me, no matter what I do, nobody cares. I use to always have this voice in my head that would tell me to hurt myself, that I'm worthless, that I'm not worth anything. The voice. It's back.

I search for a razor and soon find one. Should I really be doing this? Should I really hurt myself because other people hurt me? Is that how I should be dealing with this? It's doesn't seem healthy. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just set the razor down and leave before it's too late and I let my thoughts win. Before I can think anymore, the door flies open.