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Short Story 1 (writing exercise)

Short Story 1 (writing exercise)

WARNING: This story is kind of depressing so beware of that before you start reading.


It was a dark and stormy night in Riverwood. I was having a sleepover at my best friend Anna's house when I felt a hand on my foot. I woke up to see a young man, maybe about my age, 16 looking at me with his index finger on his mouth. I immediately screamed and Anna woke up. I searched my surroundings for some kind of makeshift weapon.


When I woke up I was in a room full of other girls. I thought I had been kidnapped, that I was in some kind of human trafficking gang business but as I looked around all of the girls seemed well-dressed and well taken care of. A few of them were staring at me and whispering that I was "a new arrival". All of the sudden, a middle-aged woman dressed in a white lab coat came inside. As she entered the room, it fell silent. She headed straight towards me and introduced herself as Dr. Toussaint. I told her my name was Carla and she said she already knew my name. I was confused and frankly a little disturbed. She then proceeded to tell me what she called "my story". I had been diagnosed with social anxiety and chronic depression about 2 months ago and my parents had been looking for treatment facilities. This is what they found, Sisterly Wellness Camp. It was a camp designed for mentally-ill teenage girls. Kind of like rehab but with a lot of other "nice" crazy girls. I was in shock. I asked Dr. Toussaint who took me here was. She said his name was Thomas, her son. Apparently, my parents were too scared I would go crazy if they told me they were sending me here so they asked Dr. Toussaint if she could pick me up at my sleepover. 


Unfortunately, she was unavailable so Thomas came. He used an anxiety calmer drug on Anna and I to calm us down before kidnapping me.


For days and nights after that, I just screamed. I screamed with anger day and night until they took me to a separate room by myself. I lay on the floor and scratched every bit of the carpet out. Maybe I really was crazy but I didn't deserve this. After two weeks of not eating and spending my days by myself in my room, I demanded that I have my schoolwork sent to me and Dr. Toussaint agreed. I poured my heart and soul into every subject I could think of: Algebra, Chemistry, Biology, Physics, World History, Literature, French, Japanese. Anything would do to get my mind off of this misery.


One day, I started crying over my Katakana. I realized that I missed my parents. But no, I would not ask to see them, nor talk to them on the phone. They were traitors who didn't deserve my love.


After all, I had a lot to be depressed about: I had cancer when I was 5, I was kidnapped and raped at the age of 11 and I have been bullied my whole life because of my curly hair. In middle school, two girls threw meringue pies at the back of my head to see if it would stick to my hair. the first time I tried to kill myself, I was 12. It was the day after the rape trial when my offender was released because the judges considered that I was dressed inappropriately for an 11-year-old and that I had asked for it. 


I went to one of the judges's house and climbed on top of it at 5 am. I had everything I needed: a ladder and a microphone connected to speakers inside the judges's house (tech genius perks). I yelled into the microphone "Clothing is not consent!" before dropping onto the ground. Unfortunately, I survived. 


I was angry at God for letting me live. I mean at least put me in a coma or something. But, no. 


The second time was two years ago, I was 14. I had stupidly sent a risque photo to my boyfriend who ended up forwarding it to the entire school. I was labelled as a "slut" for days, mocked and threatened. People told me that I should get raped again and again and again because "sluts like you deserve it. I took a day off of school and I drugged myself. I took about 15 pills of aspirin and passed out within 20 minutes. I ended up in a coma for 5 months. The happiest 5 months of my life, I dare say. Hearing my hypocrite schoolmates say how much they were sorry while I was on my "deathbed" was music to my ears. 

Unfortunately, I survived again. At this point, I'm wondering if I'm some kind of immortal Greek goddess of something. 


Anyways, after crying on my katakana sheet, I finally decided to get myself together. I mean these people didn't know me. All I had to do was act like a brand new happy person so I could get out of here, get a gun and shoot myself. I went to breakfast for the first time in 3 weeks. I knew I wouldn't survive much longer without food. Now that I think of it I could've just gone on a hunger strike. To be honest, I love bacon and pancakes way too much. I smiled and waved at all of the girls, embodying the perfect little darling. I sat down next to the least crazy looking girl I could find and introduced myself. She told me her name was Meredith and immediately asked me if we could be friends. Apparently, she was looking for someone to spend time with as her roommate had anger management problems. I agreed that it would be nice to spend time with her. Over the next few months, I developed a true sisterhood with Meredith. She was my rock. We spent all of our days studying together. I could feel my depression going away by the minute.





Copyright © 2016 Tiyi - ThePurpleWorldOfTiyi

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