Nameless
She stared morosely through the window. The panes were splattered with rain drops and streams of water flowed down. Pemberton was cloaked with a dark blanket of heavy cloud; the sky and grey concrete blending into one. Bloated droplets pelted the ground as if they were infused with hatred. The wind whipped the rain at impossible angles. No coat or umbrella could protect you. The rain would seek out your weaknesses and exploit them until you were soaked. No-one walked by, only the occasional car rattled past, splashing puddles in the gutters. In many ways, the weather and the people of this place were similar.
She turned away from the scene outside and glanced around the room. The same four walls that there had always been stood, as they always had. She crossed the room to the small mirror she kept on the cupboard. Looking in, she saw a young teenage girl staring back. Her auburn hair fell in waves behind her shoulders. Her eyes, deep and beautiful, looked out from behind a pair of frameless glasses. Her lips could form into a smile, if she had reason. But today, there was no reason.
Ever since high school she had been different. In this society, you had one chance to choose who you are; one chance to be cool like the rest; one chance to fit in with others. She had missed that chance. She had chosen to be smart and hardworking instead of popular. But now she knew that that was a mistake. High grades and being smart didn’t get you friends, and having friends is what’s most important these days. It is better to go to parties and get drunk than to be ‘outstanding’.
In the beginning, the loneliness was her only problem. She drifted without company and the popular groups left her to it. She didn’t mind. Once she had even been naïve enough to say, “I don’t need friends; I can manage by myself,” But at the start of Year 8, things changed. The summer had changed the popular kids. They had become louder and more defined. The goodness inside them had shrunk. They no longer allowed her to walk by without an insult or a snide remark. She was addressed as ‘a nerd’ and ‘a swat’. Once, she had run home in tears after a verbal assault. “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you,” Her father had said. But the words did hurt, more than most would think.
As the years past, the abuse escalated. Names turned to shoves. Insults turned to trips. She might have her bag stolen or be target to balls of paper. And they always laughed at her. If you ignored them, they tried harder. If you fought back, they laughed even harder. It was hopeless. Her only refuge was lasting to the end of the school; when she could leave and start again somewhere new.
She sat on the bed and weighed up her options. As she thought, she began to cry. Bitter tears rolled turn her face and into her lap. “Why me?” She thought, “What did I do to deserve this? Is it because I wanted to be more?! All I wanted was to be the person I wanted to be. Why won’t they let me?!”
She screamed with frustration. And then the room fell quiet. Only the relentless rain and her fitful breathing pierced the silence.
She reached under the bed and felt for the plastic bottle. Her mother had not had trouble sleeping for months now, but the medication had been kept, just in case. She held the bottle in her hand, feeling its weight, shaking it, tossing it gently. “Could it be that this bottle is the end of me?”
She instantly dropped the bottle. That though had terrified her. “I can’t. I’m better than this. I’m stronger than this.” She reassured herself, “It’s only a few more months. Just a few more months and I’ll be out of there. Things will be different at college,”
“But how? I’ll still be the same person. I’ll still be the same person. I’ll still be alone. There will be other people to hurt me. Things will never change. I’m too weak,”
Frantically, she searched the room for something to distract her. Her eyes fell back upon the mirror. She picked it up and looked at herself. And now she saw what they saw: her hair was greasy and disgusting; her skin, pimply and pale; her glasses, geeky and ugly. She hurled the mirror across the room and it shattered with a frightening crash.
She grabbed the bottle. “This is for you,” She unscrewed the cap. Tears obscured her vision. “For all you arrogant jerks and self-obsessed bitches,” She emptied the bottle into her palm and stared. “This is me taking control. I can do this,” Her voice shook. “Can I do this?”
***
The front door opened and closed again. “Jane, I’m home,” Silence was the only reply. “Jane? Are you there? Are you okay?”
“I’m here,” A weak voice answered, “I’m fine,”
