One more chance- The End

To read the previous part – Click here

In the distance I could see seniors bullying the juniors; my heart beats fast now, I started to panic. I wanted to turn back and never come back but somewhere in the corner of my heart, that 1% confidence told me they won’t hurt me.

I walked faster than normal. I crossed the gang without looking at them. There was a voice behind calling me. I acted like I didn’t hear and speed up more. A guy from that group came forward and holds my handbag and pulled which made me to stop my walk and turn back. I was very nervous to look at those boys. They were rude. They called me inside that group. I begged them to let me go.

They couldn’t care less about what I say. They got my handbag and they demanded if I want the handbag back I have to dance in front of them. I do not know how to dance. I was crying to them the whole time to let me go. One of them came down and taught me how to dance. He touched my hips and hand and hugged me in the name of teaching dance. It was not teaching. That’s’ how I felt. It felt like million needles piercing my skin every time they touched me. After the lesson, they gave my handbag back and let me go to class.

I felt thankful to god that they let me go after hours of crying. But the way they treated me, still haunted my brain. My anxiety and panic feeling shot up. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to cry out loud, but I can’t. All I wanted was reach the class without any more trouble. I walked inside the hall. It felt like everyone was staring at me. Some started laughing at me from behind. I heard people calling me “Whore”. I ignored them. I felt cheap and humiliated. How an entire college could laugh at a junior and tease like that. I saw the board on the way to restroom. I quickly entered and looked at myself in the mirror. There is nothing to laugh I turned my back to see a paper sticker on the my jeans “Call me tonight, this whore is free” god this day can’t get worse than this, my emotions burst out. I busted into tears. I tore that paper into pieces and went into a bathroom and closed the door.

Sat on the toilet seat and I cried, I let it all out. I felt humiliated. I felt cheap. I don’t want to talk about it to anybody. The trauma and the thought of people laughing at me kept ringing in my head. The fellow classmates calling me whore! Whore! Whore! Running in my head. How can I study in a place when fellow students bully like this? They made fun of me. I couldn’t digest. I wanted to put an end to their behavior. I need them to remember this and regret it forever. I opened my bag. In a speed I quickly took an old sharpener in my bag and broke it by pressing under my shoes to take the blade from it.

Now

I regret it now. I’m emotional at that moment. Didn’t think of anything. I quickly pierced my fore arm veins. I cut it like to ensure the veins are in two pieces. Blood to oozes out from my hands. I sit there watching each drop of blood filling the white tiles. I watch until most of my blood covered that tiny bathroom.

I feel dizzy now. It’s too late. My blade has already pierced my veins. The white tile floor is now red because of my blood. Why did I do this? The class hasn’t even started. Why didn’t I stay strong? Like my mother said. God! I’m sorry I wish I could turn back the time. I’m sorry mom I wish I could do all over this once again. Last drop of tears left my eyes. I feel relaxed now. I wanted to have a good sleep. I closed my eyes. The darkness took over my eyes.

My mom hit me in the head and woke me up.

I woke up, and silently think to myself, is it a dream? I felt it so real.

She yelled “Time is 7:05 am you got only half hour to catch the bus.”

I looked at my mom, in shock hearing the same words “Again”

---

Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it.

Pass on your comments and thoughts✨😄

To view and choose all short stories Click

My favourites are….

The Pearl Ring

A Child’s Play

Curse of the Witch

The Day we met – My real Story

Advertisement