Copyright, Bex

I was always the popular one, the pretty happy, skinny, small one with loads of friends, the one the boys liked, I suppose I still am although now I know I aren’t now. Bowling, swimming, cinema — always out with my friends hanging out — the usual teenage stuff. But one day when I was in the toilets (glamorous I know) I saw my name on the wall: “Becky S is a stupid bitch.” I didn’t know what to do, I’d never had this happen to me before. It was about ten minutes before school got out so I just went home. My parents always worked late, so I went straight up to my room and just cried and cried, it felt like the tears would never stop. I don’t exactly remember what happened next, but I saw my craft knife on my desk (I’m totally artistic), and the next thing I remember was the blood running down my arm, and for a minute the pain had gone. Now that seems like a graze compared to the rest of my cuts. I hide it well, nobody knows a thing. And I hope they never will — I mean, who would ever suspect?


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