I slowly looked around. My old, boring teacher was standing at the front, droning on about the human body. Thirty teenagers were around me, watching. I was that girl, the girl with a bad home life and a bad temper to match it. When people saw my old eyes and naturally bad expression, they walked the other way. I looked around. What’s the point? I will probably die alone anyway, so I stood up and walked straight out. My footsteps were loud and heavy as I slow-walked out.  

As I walked towards the gates, and my freedom, I started to think. Why? Why did I have to be the bully, the lonely kid? I walked forward still, my feet taking over. What if I started to be kind, the kid everyone liked? My legs dragged me forward. I could be the mum, the overprotective friend. I would be the A-plus kid. I kept walking, then stopped.  

“I am going back,” I whispered to myself.  

“Where are you going back to, then?” a gruff voice whispered from behind me, but before I had a chance to respond. Blackness. I woke up; I woke up with a horrible pounding in my head and throbbing, zip -tied wrists. I started to look around, horrified at what could happen to me. I was in a van, yes, definitely a van because I felt every bump. Every little ounce of horror pounded through my veins. I started to notice more: a small bag of ropes, a little pot of jellybeans, a cage, then… a knife. Small yet sharp, frightening yet curious, cold yet boiling hot. The ride was like hell. I sat alone in the back of that van for what felt like hours.       

Then a slow groaning – my head made a funny movement; it sharply whipped around but resistant, resistant to the truth. The door was open, I could see no-one, but I could see an old, manky shed. It was small. Then I noticed something; it was isolated – why, I didn’t want to know. Then an arm sharply covered my mouth and dragged me down, down towards that shed, the shed no-one knew about, well no-one who survived it. Inside it was dark, I could barely see, but her face was frighting. A young, scarred face smiling viciously towards me.  

“Shocked?” She whispered in a husky voice, like she had said it thousands of times. “What can I say, girls just want to have fun.”  

Then a small, sharp, cold dementing dagger flew towards my face. Time slowed down. I saw small, red crusting shards already on the dagger. Was I just another victim? Another bully? The only thing I knew was I would never forget the words etched onto that dagger, because if I survived, I needed evidence.            

The end, for now…