Darling, I'm just sick (girlxgirl)

I

Welcome to Hedvig (my wifey) and I's new fic! This story should be posted on both our accounts ( swsptvobsessed and this acc) btw, so yeah!

Dani's POV~
Daydreaming may be seen as a pointless pastime, but for me, the dark depths of my mind are like my second home.

I can spend hours away from the harsh reality that humans are forced to dwell in, no problem. Especially when I'm trapped in the tragic hellhole that is high school, the world outside the window is my main focus. Only in a mere short, but nonetheless torturous 13 years of being alive and breathing, I have already come to realise that people aren't creatures that should be trusted. Being accompanied with my own thoughts and feelings is enough for me.

After a while of zoning out, the bell signifying the end of the school rings out across the classroom, sending a flood of relief through me. School was never something I particularly enjoyed, especially when I'm surrounded by complete and utter assholes.

Our mathematics teacher, Mr Quinn, dismisses us with a wave of his hand and a timid smile, and the clamours of chairs squeaking across the floor interrupt the academic quiet of the class. Excited to leave, I shove my books back in my backpack and neatly stack my notes in a pile on Mr Quinn's desk. "Oh, before you all leave," Mr Quinn's friendly voice calls back at all of the kids itching to leave, "Remember it's Valentines Day in a week! It's a requirement to send someone a valentine."

I almost laugh - it's not like any human would want to spend time around me willingly. Maybe if they were locked in a room and tied to the ground they'd have the audacity to at least glance my way, but we'd never exchange words.

I'm simply known as 'the quiet girl'. Nothing else. Well, a lot else actually. Just none of my wide selection are in any way flattering or pleasant, so 'the quiet girl' will have to suffice.

I flick my slightly waved brunette hair out of my tired eyes and pull open my locker. I see a note resting on a pile of books that someone must have slipped in my locker through the slits in the door. Reminiscing back to Mr Quinn's earlier words, a small flicker of excitement and curiosity flashes through me. Maybe someone does care for me.

I let a smile appear on my face as I pick up the note and unfold it. It's scrawled in messy black ink, slightly crumpled up. Careless.

Let's just say it's the opposite of a love letter.

Tears welling in my eyes, I try to hide my blushing face with my hair as i rush through the halls to escape this prison. Reason number 29492 why I despise people. They hate differences, and don't care to adapt to different people. Too selfish. They'd prefer to take the easy way out.

Too quiet? They'll hate you.

Too loud? They'll hate you.

Too smart? They'll hate you.

If you're me? Hating is the least they'll do.

They're just so shallow and close-minded. That's why I prefer to live with my own thoughts. I can control them; and I don't tend to be a particularly controlling person, it's just a side effect of social anxiety, I guess. Social anxiety is a side effect of being hated for petty reasons. Being hated for petty reasons isn't just an action, it's just life. And life is shit.

I crumple the paper into my shaking fist, my raw bitten nails digging into my palms, my eyes sweeping the floor, never looking upwards. Floors are a lot nicer than people. They don't hurt your feelings.

Suddenly, an abrupt force pushes me backwards, and I'm sent flying backwards onto the ground. I hear an apologetic murmur as I curse under my breath a few times, my voice weak and raspy. Scared to look up, my instinct is to search the floor for the note that I found in my locker. My eyes land on it, but before I can get my hands on it, another hand has already picked it up.

I look upward timidly. I see someone I've never laid eyes on before, but it doesn't make her any less beautiful. Her brown hair falls like a waterfall down her shoulders, her eyes wide with concern and her eyebrows arched with apology.

She holds the note in her left hand. I snatch it out of her hand anxiously, not wanting her to see everyone's opinions of me, because humans being the easily manipulated bastards they are, she'll just be another person to make my life a misery.

They're so afraid to say what they think they'll just go with the crowd, or they'll have to join me. And let's face it, no one would voluntarily want that, would they?

But despite my reserved and isolated thoughts, I can't help but hold her gaze for a few seconds. She offers me her hand, and at first I'm a little confused, but then I realise that I'm still crying on the floor. Blushing a deep red, I put my hand in hers and she helps me off the ground.

"Someone wrote this about you?" Her sweet voice makes me feel especially awkward.

Brushing my sweaty hands on my jeans, I try to think of a response that won't make me sound like a complete and utter idiot.

"No," I lie, not wanting her to worry. "I just found it."

"A-are you crying?" The girl asks me, trying to get a closer look at my eyes. I try to hide them behind my hair, but somehow she sees. "They did, didn't they?"

I nod. She shakes her head, torn between feeling sympathetic and angry. "That's not right."

"I'm used to it." I reply, wanting to get out of this awkward situation and the pretty girl's stare as soon as possible. She shouldn't be wasting her time.

"It doesn't make it any less right." She says stubbornly.

"It doesn't make it any less true," I say, running off in the opposite direction before the girl with the beautiful eyes can say another word that only defends the truth.

Authors note- hey hey! i hope you like the start of this fic, hopefully future chapters will be longer but since this is the first it's a lil bit short. -dani <3