Not the Popular Kid

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I’ve never been the popular kid, the one person that everyone else dreamed to be, craved to be, the one who got all the girls and was the star of the athletic team. I’ve always been the loner, the one that no one pays attention to, and the freak that everyone avoided like the plague. It’s not that I’m ugly, or anything, it’s just that I’m… different.
My mother used to tell me that I had beautiful hair; she said it looked like melted dark chocolate, which blended my milk chocolate eyes, she of course also had brown hair, but hers was more light and brittle. She used to tell me every night before I went to sleep, that she would always be here, and wouldn’t leave me no matter what, and that she would proudly watch me grow up and would always be here whenever I needed it. She lied.
She couldn’t handle the abuse of my father, and when I was eight, she left without me. Of course my father was outraged, and was deeply saddened by this, so he used the only thing that could help him with this problem, alcohol. He started getting more angry and abusive, he even started beating me. But I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t feel anything, it’s as if when my mother left she ripped away everything in me. I was empty, hollow, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t laugh, and I couldn’t scream. I think this was how my body dealt with the shock of my mother leaving me, instead of dealing with the pain, my body just numbed it. Even the physical scars didn’t hurt me anymore, the cuts and bruises that covered my back and abdomen region felt as if they weren’t even there.
People started to notice these changes, they noticed the blank look on my face where I went, teachers looked at 1me weirdly, the students started to fear me. But none of it mattered, I’ve learned l...

... middle of paper ...

... to ignore her during the class, even though I was quite intrigued about her. I could feel her prying eyes glance at me every few minutes; it was as if she had something tell me but couldn’t gather up the courage to actually ask me. Finally, after a dreadful hour of listening to the teacher, the bell rang. I quickly got up and packed up all of my stuff, time for me to wander around town before I head back to my drunk and abusive father. Before I could even walk out the door, I felt someone tap my shoulder; I looked behind me and saw the new girl, Sophie looking up at me.
“I need you to come with me.” She stated, and before I could even reply she walked off.
Seeing no other choice, I followed her, it’s not like I had anything better to do.
It wasn’t until we left the school, that Sophia let me catch up to her. We walked in complete silence for a number of minutes.

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