The Imperfect StoryMature


     I wake up to the sunshine through my window. It blinds my eyes just enough so that I can’t see my alarm clock. It’s when I adjust my eyes that I notice that it didn’t go off and I’m an hour late for school. I am stunned for a minute and it takes me a few seconds to get to motion.

     I jump to high speed, racing to get ready as quick as possible. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror and I am disgusted. My hair greasy & filled with curls from lack of shower that morning and my skin is dry and red. I quickly grab my bag only to notice that I have left all the things I needed at my mom’s. These things would include: my shampoo, hair dryer, flat iron, soap, & my brush. I stand in absolute horror of my missing necessities and trying to shake off my anger I keep moving.

     I go to get dress to find there’s only one pair of jeans left on my cabinet and they have a fist-sized stain right on the front, probably from weeks before. Realizing that all my other jeans are in the wash I grab them and put them on. It’s there that I think of the idea to maybe just stay home, so no one needs to see me like this. There’s nothing important going on today anyway, right? Suddenly, I remember about a science test our teacher had warned us about a week earlier. I check the schedule and I’m right, ‘Ughh!!’

     I continue on my way again out the door, grabbing my kit-bag and heading outside. The cold chill nips at my skin as I am wearing only a t-shirt & my stained jeans, for of course all my hoodies are at school, in my locker. I walk up to the road and knowing that I have missed the bus, have to start the long walk to school. The freezing wind blows strong against my body and rustles my hair to a mess. As I continue a large transfer truck passes by at high-speed (like normal on our road) and as it goes by its tires skid across the mud splashing it all over myself. I take a deep breathe and hold in my anger as I continue walking.

     Forty-five minutes later I make it to the school only to find out that I’m a lot later then I thought I would be. I enter the school to find out that the period going on now, which I am late for, is math. I turn and head upstairs only to trip on one of the steps for my mind was in its own little world at the time. I rub my elbows slightly and make my way to class.

     I enter the class and the wind from the window slams the door shut, making the loudest noise I’ve heard in a while. Every eye in the class darts straight to me, including those of our teacher. I hear a few snickers in the back as I head to my seat. I am about half way as my teacher slams his book down on his desk and speaks a very low tone, “Mr.Olscamp, may I speak with you outside the class for a moment?”.

     I freeze in my place and turn on the heel of my foot doing a 180. 

As we exit the class he closed the door silently behind him (I wish the door would have closed that nicely for me).

“Lucas, this is the third time this week that you’ve been late and I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, okay?”

He stares at me right in the eyes and I manage a simple nod.

“Now go inside, open up your math book and ask your partner what page we’re on…& also you can wave your lunches good-bye because you’re going to be spending them all with me for the rest of this week.”

     It’s then as I open up my kit-bag and take out my scribbler that I notice that my math book is no where to find. I scream inside my head but slowly retreat and sit forward looking at the blank page of my scribbler. I have absolutely no idea what to say, but I just go with the flow and catch up of an idea of what’s going on from my partner.

     It takes me a minute to realize that a few people are staring at me and some are whispering. Of course, take a picture people, it lasts longer, god. But then I see their eyes flick to something in front of me and I follow their gaze straight to my teacher. He’s leaning with his hands on my desk and staring at me right in the eyes.

“Why don’t you have your book out?”, his tone is scarily filled with hate & pleasure at the same time.

“I guess I forgot it”, oh my voice was so nervous & shaky it was like a small child on a rollercoaster.

“Did I say a week? I meant a month.”

     Of course I knew what he was talking about but the rest of the class was filled with whispering gossip & confusion trying to figure out what he meant.

     Well that class seemed to last forever but after I was swarmed with questions from curious people of my class. They ask of why I’m late, why I look terrible, why I’m so dirty, what our teacher actually meant…everything. But I keep quiet and brush off their curiosity for the stress in my head. I just pray that the rest of the day will go better then this.

     The day creeps to an end but I would have to say it was the longest day of my life. After the horrid start, the day didn’t get much better. I went on to have the worst science test ever, an English class from hell, & a grammar study in French. None of which went without the endless rush of stress & questions. Also to add on, I got back one of my projects and a quiz and neither of them got over the 80% mark. I crumple them up into a ball as the bus comes to steady stop in front of me. I get on and sit alone in front as the rest scurry on and we head out.

     I arrive at home and get the usual kids cussing out insults at me from the back of the bus as it speeds off. I walk slowly to find that my cat has somehow got outside and I need to run to catch her. At least she’s okay, and not dead to one of the cars speeding by. I get inside and as I set my cat down I see my math book, laying right their in clear view on the table. I knock it off, frustrated and go downstairs.

     I get to my computer to find that the internet isn’t working and with that I snap and I hit the monitor only for it to fall off my desk and hit the floor hard. I stare at it, broken, on the floor, & start to cry. I don’t really understand why I’m crying at all but it just overwhelmed me to tears. I sit there for what seems like days but I lose track of time.

     My dad gets home soon only to inform me he has gotten a call from my teacher and starts into his good old lecture. It’s amazing how he can notice me rolling my eyes, but not how red they are from my flood of tears. As he starts to argue with me he sees the broken monitor and that was the oil to the flame. He went from 1 to 100 in less then 30 seconds and all I could do was sit there and take his hurtful words. He knows that I’m not even listening and he exit’s the room in absolute rage throwing some of my things on my cabinet, across the floor. He slams the door shut & stamps up the stairs.

     I sit alone in the darkness of my room as I cry for hours. I am totally speechless and just stay still in that exact spot. Around nine I make my way upstairs and as he sits at the couch watching TV he gives me no attention, not even a look. I walk down to my room and lay in bed, trying to sleep, sleep off this nightmare. But I know, deep down, that I can’t get away and I know that I won’t get any sleep that night.

     I laid there for a while and waited for my dad to head to bed and when he did I waited for him to fall asleep. I knew he had by the loud sound of his snoring from his room. From there I quietly & so very slowly get up & walk into the bathroom. I did not turn on the light because the hours in the dark had adjusted my eyes totally so everything was crystal clear.    

     I close the door slowly and moved to stand by the sink. I look into the mirror at my face and memorize almost every single detail. My gaze drops down to the sink & everything around it: tooth-brushes, liquid-soap, tooth-paste, floss, toilet paper…& one more thing. Something I know quite well. Something that more then all the rest stood out like a black spot upon a white silk sheet. Something that seemed to scream my name so loudly. Something that as much as it stood still, was the movement of my entire torture. That something…is a razor.


The End

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