To say that Amy was no longer angry would be a lie in the same way that saying she was no longer hurt or sad. One sound rang in that dark, cold room the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps, making their way across the room. And just when the immediate panic was starting to lift, leading her to run, all the lights in the room disappeared, casting her into an abyss. The next sound Amy heard was the closing of the door and the deadbolt sliding into place. Then, just as the laughter had started, it left, disappearing into the air. Cold sweat broke out over her forehead as paralysis bound her legs, for this wasn't the laughter of a girl, but of a man. This was laughter, cold, dark, and evil and with it came fear and panic that began to slide over her body, enwrapping her and covering her hate and pain.
It wasn't the sound of a happy girl or of a girl ready to leave for the day. Why kill herself when she could kill them?Īs the newer, more pleasant thoughts bubbled up from her soul, Amy began to hear something behind her. And the more she stared into her black, makeup-smeared eyes, the more the anger filler her body and the more her thoughts of suicide transformed into thoughts of homicide. Anger began to course into her veins, warming her body, gradually burning away her pain and replacing it with hate. But as they cut, they released her other emotion that she had held in for as long as she could remember: rage. These thoughts cut her deeply, slicing through her heart. Holding back the tears and sobs, Amy listened, barely lifting her head up to try and see the person in the mirror, but the only thing she saw was her ugly, weak, pathetic reflection. Her heart stopped as she listened to the hinges creak, slowly ringing out another girl's entrance. As far as she cared at the moment, she would be fine if she died that day at least she wouldn't hear the others any more.īut as the thoughts of suicide and escape began to seep into her mind, she heard the door open. Every time a label rose to the surface, her body trembled as she sobbed into her palms. With her hands covering her eyes, she couldn't see her reflection, but with the other student's jeers and insults ringing in her head, she didn't need to. Amy stood in front of the locker-room mirrors, tears streaking down her face, making her makeup slowly run down her cheeks.
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