Prologue: The Past [Part 1: Introductions]The sound of the bell, though it now remains silent, still rings in my head. One high tone, only for a few seconds, but it stays with a person for longer. Much longer. Even throughout adulthood, people can still hear the bell from their school years. The bell that once alerted them when it was time to attend classes, when it was lunch, or when they were free to go home. Me, I'm in my college years. There's no bell here, but I still hear one when the timing is right. As I walk to my locker, I look around, desperately hoping no one was around.
Good, they're not.
I open my locker, swapping books around, the necessary books that I need for my next class sitting comfortably in my bag. The other books I didn't need were neatly lined within my locker, until I see a note peaking out.
Oh great. And thus starts my torture.
Opening the letter slowly and cautiously, I begin to read it:
I saw you looking at my man in our Accounting lesson today.
You are so dead.
Prepare for the beating of your life!
You deserve that beating!
P.S. Nice clothes. Too bad you don't deserve them.
It's illegal for trolls like you to have such beautiful clothes as those.
That was only one example of the mass amount of bullying I suffer day in, and day out. And I can't take it any more. I'm bullied in school, online, no-where am I safe. And those words they say to me tend to stay in my mind for the rest of the day, sometimes for a few. I've also been called a multiple of other words, but they seem too inappropriate to share with you. Besides, I don't feel comfortable saying them; it will only make me believe more that I am those words. Sometimes, I just want to lock myself in a small room, away from the rest of the world, and slowly rot away.
I try not to talk to Jemma. I try to block her voice, as if she doesn't exist. But I can't.
Because she locks her leg out just as I approach her, tripping me over. My knees scrape against the hard pavement, forcing a cut, an open space for blood to escape.
"Answer me next time then, you shit bitch."
"Nice one Jemma," calls Jemma's friend, Coco. Honest to God, I really want to strangle them by their throats. Payback for all the times they bullied me.
But I can't. All I want to do right now is to be alone, and let my tears flow from my eyes, so I can watch them fall, without anyone calling me a little baby.
Oh, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Jackie-Anna Coral Summersmith, Jackie for short. I'm 17 years old, studying at college. I have a wealthy life, with my mother owning a successful boutique franchise. I'm an only child, as well. And my father... he died when I was 8. But for my mother and I, life is great.
Or at least, it is for her.
For I have one problem: friends.
I don't belong anywhere, or in any group. Everybody hates me, because I'm either this or that. Every day, I wish that I could have a friend...
But before we can discover my future together...
Know first my past.