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The girl, sat in a corner of her room, the stained black tears slipping down her streaked face. She bought her knees closer to her chin and held herself more tightly, burying her head in her hair, which was tumbling down past her shoulders.
"You're too stupid to be reading Dorian Gray, good literature isn't for the likes of you." These words were echoing around her head. Thumbing in her brain, dimming everything else, in angst she turned the volume up on her mp3 player, desperate for the music to drown out her thoughts.
Volume 11.
"You wear too much make up, what are you trying to hide, because everyone knows how ugly you are, you've got no friends, you've got nobody, because you are no one, you're just a pathetic little girl and you'll never get anywhere. You're scum."
Volume 15.
"You think you can ignore me, you're the most pathetic person ever, and you're sick." She remembered how close he had come then, towering over her, the spit slapped her face with every word he articulated with venom. The hate he held for her was tangible in his words.
Volume 19.
The dated music from her mp3 player was now booming out so loudly, her head began the throb with the beat and she felt sick, so she buried her head deeper hiding in her knees, hoping that when she looked up it would all be different somehow.
"TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN" Her mother screeched at her, ignoring her daughters tears.
Volume 5.
For years her mother would comfort her with the promise that when he was eighteen he would leave home. When that hadn't happened, her mother made them all move from France back to England. Now the girl had had to say goodbye to all her friends, and the people she had been able to rely on…Her mother had nothing to say now.
"Why don't you make him go? Why do you let him live here for free, stealing everything, taking it all, and you complain and you cry and you don't deserve this, why should we all live in this hell, just because of him."
There was nothing too say.
The girl turned back to her knee's praying for hope.
"What do you want me to do?"
There was a very loud silence, while the track changed.
Her mother then walked out, closing the door.
And the girl was alone again, just her and the music. Her only small escape, now whispering out of her speakers. But she was still that eleven year old girl, writing her new years resolutions, "Go to swimming class everyday so I can get strong, and protect myself from my brother."
It hadn't worked, six years later, she was still hunched over herself, like a child, no hope, no freedom, no change.
Empty promises broken, but the same tears, this time that ran with her mascara instead of clear, down her chubby childish cheeks.
He's just jealous of me, how I manage to cope with everything, how I've always managed to have friends and fit in places, and how I can smile. He does this because he wants me to cry, so he isn’t the only one feeling small and pathetic. Even though these memorised words of comfort were true, they didn't change anything. Just because people told you that bullies were the way the were because they were inadequate, didn't solve anything, it didn't actually make her feel better, it just made her feel worse; How he would get sympathy for the way he was, and everyone expected her to take it and be the bigger person.
What if she didn't want to be the bigger person, what if -
But there are no what if's. All there is, is this.
Volume 20.