When I was like... ten, I wrote this story about aliens crushing this elementary school into a ball, killing all the students, and only a ten year old girl and her sister escape, and you could tell I based the protagonist on me. The worst part was, it was for a
school project! Try explaining that to the school counselor after the teachers got ahold of that one.
It was so effing cliche! I was being bullied pretty bad at the time, but that story, by far, wasn't a "cry for help." I loved death and aliens, school was a familiar situation, I was completely disjointed from my life when I wrote that, didn't think there'd be a problem with handing it in. Yeah, so wrong. It took a while to convince them I didn't want everybody I went to school with to die a painful death.