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Rated: GC · Short Story · Biographical · #1964847
A short diary of a pained youth. Something I found deep in my drawers.
A day. Autumn. Some year.
Darkness. Screaming. That fucking pain. Then it becomes black... silent... calm.
         My name is Caroline and I'm sixteen years old. Sixteen years too much, in my opinion. I'm in junior high, ninth grade, and I'm starting high school next year. I want to be a biochemist. To handle drugs and to create solutions for the worst plagues in the world, those are my things. Some people say I'm too nice, but then again, not many actually like me.
         My usual schedule in school is to enter class, study, leave class and take my seat on the farthest bench in the aula. Repeat this circa two hundred times, and you get my school year.
         I am currently sitting in class. We're having English. My class is irritatingly loud, as usual. But no one is being loud or irritating with me. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I can't concentrate on what the teacher's saying, so instead I focus on the clock. Slowly, with a steady pace, the ticks and tocks become louder, until they finally meet their end. The point when everything's done. I exit the classroom with steady paces, collect my black cloth jacket, and head to the bus.
         I live in the city, downtown, with my mom. My mom, and her quickly changing boyfriends. My dad lives in the suburbs. Mom and dad are separated. The folks have decided that I should live at dad's every other week, and every other at mum's. But I just want to live with mom. Even though mom's never home; she's always on business trips, or at some sweaty old man who can't satisfy his needs without monetary help. To be honest, I hate mom as well. But not more than dad.
         My dad's an alcoholic. He works at home, which means that he always has a bottle of booze next to him. I think he smells awful; this can be because of the booze, or de facto of his never cleaning the house and leaving behind nothing but empty boxes of pizza and fast food.
         Today, I'm going to my dad. I was there the night before. And the night before that. And before that.
         When the long, constantly curving, noisy trip is done, I step onto dad's porch. I cautiously step over the empty six-pack, curve around some unidentifiable grey pile, and silently open the door. I hope that dad wouldn't hear me; that I simply could quickly slip into my room and sit there for the rest of the evening, in peace. And I almost make it through the night.
         Darkness. Screaming. That same fucking pain. Same shit, different package.

A cold, dark night. Winter. Same year.
         Those fucking pigs! Those ugly, mean fucking pigs!
         As you might see, today wasn't such a good day. Well, no day's good. There I sat, in my usual corner at school, when suddenly:
"And there she sits again, that fucking bitch!"
I tried not to lift my gaze, just to ignore the voice until it goes away. But this isn't the case.
"Listen to me when I'm talking to you!"
They laugh. I slowly lift my head, and in front of me I see two people from class. One's called Eve. She's a bit longer than me, with ginormous breasts, and a face with more make-up than it would take to cover Moscow in powder. With her, she has Nina. She's the total opposite of Eve; extremely long, breasts flat like a kitchen table, and an au natural look. Still, everyone likes her; boys aren't so superficial after all.
"Y-y-yeah?" Goddamn it, I'm stuttering. One would think they could smell fright and pain.
"Why are you sitting here, in the corner? Are you alone, huh? Doesn't anyone like the little skank?"
Sarcasm with a dash of pure hate is nothing anyone can take. Before she gets the word again, I activate my selective hearing, and listen to footsteps and distant chats.
No, not again... It is said that man is a fool, scared of the dark and all.

The day before Christmas Eve. Same winter. Fucking year.
         Music, chatting, a nice atmosphere. Why am I the only one who doesn't have access to all this?
         Right now, I'm sitting on a chair. The third row. Fifth chair from the left. That's how bored I am; counting chairs and all...
         Distantly, I can hear Silent Night, the everlasting Christmas hit. When it's done, I hear footsteps. High heels. It's the principle. She steps up to the podium, ready for her Christmas speech. I lift my head, and immediately notice we have something in common. We both don't want to be here, like a splinter in the big pupils' eyes. We are both nervous, both scared of the students' snide comments. How does she put up with this?
         And on that mark, I zoom out of the festivities, into the depths of my mind, my sacred hiding place. Where it's safe. Nothing to fear.
         I wake up, everyone's gone. Without waking me up. My class superintendent left my grades on the chair beside me. The only living beings left in the school are the cleaners, and those who died here.
         I quickly jump up, throw my coat on, and run downtown. From there, I take the usual bus to my dad's.
         The door squeals. I slowly step inside.
         "Just a moment, miss!" No... I guess this was one of the times my sneaky entrance didn't work.
         "Well, how's the grades?" he asks me. Oh shit, I've forgotten to check them out myself. I don't think he'll be happy about the average...
         He snags the report from my hands, and puts on his reading glasses. I see that he's reading the report, but really he's just wondering whether the liquor store is open.
         "Oh... Alright... Well..." He doesn't seem to be happy.
         And again, that fucking darkness. I can't take much more.

No idea to tell the date, no one will be reading this anyhow.
         This must end! Now. DAMN IT.
         Again, I've been at my dad, as you might suspect, and this time will be the last. My mind is in pain, seeing dad passed out on the kitchen floor. But then again... I don't care what happens to him.
         I'm right now at my mum. And things aren't better here. She had her new boyfriend here, and he broke up with her. I walked in to the kitchen, seeing my mom, distressed and angry. She sat at the table. Her head looked heavy, lying there on the table.
         "Mom... It's not the end of the world. The sea is full of -" I just wanted to reassure her, but I didn't get far.
         "Shut up, you hussy! You of all people know that the sea is full of fishes, and judging by your style of clothes, I'd say you're the commercial fisherman! Get lost, I can't take it right now."
         Nope. No, can't take it anymore. This ends now. As I'm writing this, I'm crying my last tears on this light paper. The knot's done, the chair's placed.
         I won't go on anymore. Not in this world, where everything you do is shit and ugly, when no one wants to help. Even though I always help.
         In the background, my favorite band. In the foreground, the chair. Soon, this will all be over.
         Unfortunately, I can't write anymore; it's not easy to write at the same time you're tying a knot.
         I want to thank mom; without her verbal abuse, and escape from her duties, this wouldn't be possible. I also want to thank dad; without your hard fists, I wouldn't be where I am.
         The stage light's really hot.
         Thank you, and goodbye. Au revour. Auf Wiedersehen.
         I'll see you in Hell.

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