*Trigger Warning. Self-Harm, Homophobia, Suicide*
*Maybe the boarding "school" wasn't such a great idea...*
White.
Everything was white.
Violet started blankly at the white door of the white room. The only other colour was the crimson red seeping through her bandaged wrists. The so-called School was meant to help her deal with her grandma's death and her father's abuse but so far, all it caused was misery.
For the first two months, Violet stayed to her own company. From sitting alone at lunch to hiding from her roommate at night and sleeping in the bathroom, she stayed exclusively to herself. The only person who knew her name was an auburn haired girl, who had been designated to show Violet around the school on her first day and also happened to be the roommate that she hid from, named Brody. She had tried to talk to the blonde but got nothing in response.
Violet barely said a word in her first two months, only "Here" when her name was called from the register in her classes. If a teacher called on her, they would get a death glare and quickly call on another student. Her therapy seasons got cancelled since they were a waste of everyone's time. The school always kept an eye on her, making sure that she didn't do anything to harm herself or others.
Until one day, as she was walking from Biology to History, a small group of about five kids stopped her and surrounded her. She recognised them from different classes, two girls and three boys. Maddie, Stephanie, Jasper, Justin and Trey. She tried to push past them but they barricaded her and shoved her to the floor. She glared up at them as they smirked to one another. They started to tease her and call her names, making fun of her for not speaking and for her family life. She blocked them out until one of them called her out on her sexuality.
She glared at the one who spoke, Jasper, before standing up and punching him with her full strength right in the face. He fell to the floor, clutching a-now-broken nose and she stormed past them. She ran from the main building to her dorm room, her fists clenched. She grabbed a small packet of razor blades before storming out and into the bathroom.
Her breathing got heavier as she slipped into a panic attack. She locked one of the stall doors before she slumped to the floor, breathing erratically and trembling. With shaking hands, she opened the packet and took a fresh blade out. She rolled up her hoodie sleeves and drew a horizontal line across her left wrist. The second she saw the blood dotting to the surface, she drew another line, then another and kept going, switching wrists every so often.
Violet felt herself becoming weaker as the hand holding the blade slumped and fell to her side. What she didn't know was that someone was in the stall next to her and saw the blood-covered razor blade. The person gasped and quickly left their stall since all they were doing was smoking a cigarette, and tried to open the stall door. When it didn't open they kicked it. Eventually, the door caved and the person saw Violet laying there, barely conscious.
Violet caught a glimpse of the girl and at first thought that it was Brody because of the hair but soon realised that it wasn't and that it was actually a girl named Minerva. They shared a few classes together and Minerva had always been nice to Violet. Minerva quickly cradled Violet in her arms and screamed for help.
The next thing Violet knew was that she was in a pure white room. The only colour was the crimson red seeping through her bandaged wrists. The only thing in the room was a white bed. Nothing else.
"How the fuck is this meant to help me?" Violet grumbled in a very quiet voice, only to hear a high pitch siren which made her clutch her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to silence the noise.
"No swearing is prohibited in The White Room!" A shrill voice took over the siren. Violet sighed then scoffed. So she was trapped in a mental person room and couldn't speak. Not like that really affected her, she could be quiet for years if she wanted. She lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She was only twelve, what good would being trapped in a room like this do for her?
She fell asleep and woke up to a plate of food. If it could even be called that. It looked like someone robbed a rabbit of its meal. It was a mix of green and orange vegetables that more accurately resembled the reduced fruit and veg section in Target. She scoffed at it and lay back down, falling asleep again.
It was a continuous cycle. Violet would wake up, see a plate covered in a garden, possibly eat it if she was desperate, then fall back asleep. She didn't know how long this had been going on for, she didn't even know what time of day it was. All she did was sleep.
It might have been days, weeks, months or even years of being locked in The White Room when she realised something. She could shatter the plate on the ground. Her wrists had scarred over and she didn't have the bandages anymore. She moved fast, throwing the plate down on the ground and sure enough, it shattered into pieces. She quickly grabbed a piece that had a sharp edge and drew it vertically down one wrist, then the other. She smiled weakly before collapsing to the floor in a growing puddle of her own blood.
The school had a minutes silence every Friday evening for Violet. Brody and Minerva grew quite close since they were the only two who really knew of Violet. Every year, on her death date, they would visit a small grave they made for her and just sit at it for most of the day.
The school got rid of The White Room a week after her death.
