I took each step with caution as I tightened my grip on the rock. The world was such a hollow place, full of soulless people. No window was left for humanity or care inside the people around me.Nobody seemed to see or care, to see past the layers of fatness and outside demeanour that makes their day interesting every day. The world was rotten, and it would be better if it crumbled down and suffocated all the heartless souls inside. The voices were closer, and my resolve to kill them was even worse. Perhaps after today, after I've killed and injured a soul, they would notice I wasn't such a big joke. They would finally remember me as a decent human who only wanted love, who wanted someone to look at her like she really mattered. I stopped abruptly and almost got a heart attack at the sight in front of me. Why was the world so unfair? Vince was zipping up his trouser as a young girl with her back turned towards me was struggling to pull her stockings up. The rock on my hand almost fel

More than half of my life has been spent trying to prove that I'm also human. The other parts have been spent crying in locked spaces, weeping under basements, pretending to be okay, trying to fit in. Trying to convince the universe that I'm worth it only for it to throw sand and lemons back. I swear I love the world; I love my classmates, including Vince, Ryan, Sasha, and Edrin; I like them too much. But they don't love me back; Love is a strong word; they don't like me back. I like Maslow High school. The problem is that it doesn't like me back, never has. A part of me had always thought that if I walked alone if I moved on my own lane, did me such that all my failures were on me, no one would care, no one would notice me and my insecurities. The bullies would forget that I existed, perhaps find new victims or be saved if there is such a thing as saving. Being a lone soldier didn't make me invincible. It made me more visible. It was as if I was always walking with bright red light

‘‘Currently, we have a volunteer and charity mission going on, and it requires the involvement of students. The problem is that no one has come forward to participate in the charity mission. Fighting is taken very seriously and can lead to suspension or even expulsion for those with bad records.’’I already knew what he was insinuating. Mr. Collins wasn’t serious. The charities offered by Maslow High were seriously outrageous. There was a time they made a group of volunteers help clean a museum out of a good heart. Other times, they took students to squalid and crime-infested neighborhoods to clean the environment.I didn’t have such a good heart; I wouldn’t do it even with half a good heart.‘‘Perez, we both know you aren’t in the good books, and Fiona, you aren’t better; please inform me if you like detention more or volunteer work.’’‘‘Excuse me, sir, I have sessions with the school counselor every day, and I can’t miss any. It’s an order from the school principal,’’ I explained rem

I took the stairs two at a time before getting into my room and shutting the door. The internet was full of stories of kids and teenagers addicted to their phones. I always wondered what they are addicted to. Was it candy crush saga or motor racing that made me sick? To be blatantly honest, my phone had been lying inside the drawers for almost a week untouched. Everything made me sick. The biggest torture my dad had given me was buying me the phone. The buzz and excitement on my face as I unwrapped it from the gift box was out of this world. Then the reality hit me: Who would I call or text. At first, it was Fiona, Paul, and then Fred, my deskmate. Then after a while, no one. The group chats were fun, only when anyone was willing to reply. It was during that time that it hit the harsh and brutal reality. I was lonely, unlovable, and miserable. The loneliest person in the world lived in a house full of people. Lonely in crowds, group works, and around people. It felt better when I w

May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the holy spirit be with us now and forever more. Amen.“Amen,’’ everyone else at the table repeated as we stopped holding hands. It had always been an unbreakable tradition to hold hands when praying before eating every day. And it always felt like torture to me. All of a sudden, they were friendly at night, thanking God so they could get it all done with and go back to being mean.The atmosphere at the table was tense as we looked at each other silently.If they gave me a chance, if they at least saw something in me, the world would too.If my stepmama, Sandra, and Papa gave me a chance, other people would too. But they wouldn’t. They would choose a stray cat or dog over me anyway, that, I was sure.Sandra sat on the opposite side of the table with a few bruises and was trying to look miserable to win public sympathy. On the other hand, I looked strong, healthy, huge, and awful, with two horrible extra fron