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How the actual fuck did you do this to yourself?

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I ran my hand over my wrist again, cold metal runs against the inked writing that is across the skin. Sitting in the back of an unfamiliar classroom, of another unfamiliar school, but this situation seems all too familiar.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve transferred schools. Probably not the last.

But it was still unnerving, sitting in a senior classroom as a sophomore, a mute sophomore to add to the anxiety, knowing it’s only a matter of time until I have to introduce myself and then bam.

Repeat of the past 5 or 6 schools.

I watched the other students file in, noticing that yet again, I’m the shortest. I always am the shortest, at a whopping 4’5. I knew the other kids were talking about me, but it just took a quick swipe and headphones tuned them out.

 

“Did you get lost kiddo?” Someone sneers as they yank my headphones off almost breaking the connection cord.

I swiped my hand out to grab them back but he just held them up out of my reach, disconnecting the cord. It didn’t play the music I was listening to (thank god for bluetooth), but rather sent electric down my arm and up my neck. The teacher walked in and the other kid threw my headphones back at me, saying something along the lines of ‘lucky midget’.

“Okie class, settle down, we have a new student with us today! Transferring all the way from Hawaii! Would you like to introduce yourself?” She gestured to me, and I grudgingly stood up, waved, and plopped back down.

“Well, I guess that works for now.” She smiles and starts talking about a project due Friday that I was not required to do.

*time skkippppp*

After class, everyone just kinda left. no hitting nothing just gone. I guess they just got used to me.

I've been at this school for what 3 weeks now, and it has already killed me, sent me to hell, reincarnated me back and then repeated. They never stopped, it was almost a guaranteed beat down every day after school, and so dare they see me off campus.

I knew almost everyone in my class by now and everything about them. I knew everyone's name, gender, sexuality, if they still had parents, siblings, mental disorders, how many times they had sex, if they drank, if they smoked, if they had cats or dogs (or snakes in the one girl's case) you name it, I knew it.

It was slightly terrifying I found Mark's old photos from 4th grade that he deleted from Facebook, the questionable snap that Kacy sent to her, now ex, boyfriend, that he shared with about 20 other people. Every. Single. God. Damn. Picture. Of. Stacy's. Cat.

I also knew about the party that was being held, open to the public, next Friday.

I be damned if I didn't go.

 

See everyone hates or doesn't understand me, since I can’t talk, and I kinda want to redeem myself and prove that I'm a normal high schooler. Who hates life and wants to hang out with people like a normal teenager. I guess that my arm doesn't help either.

My mum always tried to say that 'I’m a normal teenager' and I'm just as capable as everyone else', but I knew it wasn’t true. I won't ever be able to go through metal detectors, I have to get legal papers out the ass to get on public transport, and I classify as a fucking military grade weapon. I can't talk, I see more then I like, I can’t yell across the room, and I can’t greet an old friend

I'll never talk to my soul mate.

This affected me the most, knowing that I might be the cause of someone else's depression, knowing that they have a blank wrist, and they probably think they don't have a soulmate. Not even stopping to think about having a mute one

How will they handle having someone who can't speak?

I struggle through the rest of the day, another headache taking over.

They’re common, caused by a mixture of bad posture and a metal arm, and usually, a bar of chocolate and a bit of meds help.

 

I went to practice hoping blowing off some steam, not actually having to march or block, rather just having to focus on my music and on the drum major.

Upon arriving, I’m greeted with friendly faces, 3, if I were to be exact. Most of the band tolerate my existence, I’m a good player, but as said before I don't march.

 

Those 3 friends (my sister included) 2 marched, Alex in colour guard, Dash in low brass and Kaysa in pit, a non-marcher like me. Dash, being my sister, is the biggest dick seriously going out of her way to annoy me, Alex was quiet and Kaysa was my first friend at this hell-hole of a school. Dash is a senior, taking AP astrology (what I'm taking next year), Alex is a freshman, he sits at my lunch table with Kaysa, who is a sophomore as well.

Everything was going great until track ran past, throwing insults at us, worsening my headache, as if it wasn't bad enough.

The walk home was tolerable, Dash, yelling frantically about her day and Kaysa, who lived about a block from us, yelling back, music easily tones them out.

Upon getting home I'm greeted by Kumu, my older brother from the adoption agency. We’re both Hawaiian, although he's fully Hawaiian, accent, skin tone and personality matched up perfectly.

Dinner was a rush as always, having 10 siblings and a mother who acts like a child herself makes everything rushed. Only 2 of us are by blood, she didn’t have any more after her mate died, but we all still love and look up to her, giving her support when she needs it. And in return, she provides a roof over our heads and a full belly to sleep, and after some of the foster homes I was in, this was the best thing I could ever ask for.

But all the commotion has its drawbacks, especially when you have an oncoming migraine, and after what seems like an eternity, I flop on my bed and realize.

 

This is going to be one long ass week