Better than you can imagine

Pansy, Princess, Cinderella; couldn’t they come up with something better than that? I mean, you’d think that daggers would be a little sharper than those knives. But no, I get stabbed with girly names.

Bastards.

I slouch down a little lower, just in time to dodge a paper thrown at where my head just left.

What should I do? The bus is in motion and they’re fucking throwing shit at me again, calling me names. I hate that. I hate people who treat others like they’re invisible, like all they are is the dead skin from your feet, or the scum off the bottom of your shoe. I want to just get up and run back the few rows between us and just take Cory down, but I can’t.

I just can’t do it.

Why, though? Gerard is too right. Cory and his clones are just zombies, and vampires; dead people who thrive off of others pain and loss.

What kind of life is that to lead?

I don’t understand people. I don’t know that I ever will.

I look at Gerard, who is looking at me. His eyes are screaming ‘stand up for yourself or this is going to go on forever.’

But I just sit there.

I hate this.
________________________

I’m on the bus, only it’s much longer. Each row is about the size of 4 rows, and the seats are so big, my feet do not come near the edge of the seat, and yet I stay sitting against the very back, alone.

I hear echoed words come my way. I stand on the seat and look behind to investigate the source.

It’s Cory.

As I look, I quickly duck as I see that I knife is being thrown at me, followed by another, and another. They won’t stop coming.

All of the knives accumulate onto the seat. I sit back down and examine them.

While being thrown at me they appeared like butcher knives, but when they land they are quite floppy, almost like plastic silverware. They don’t even pierce the seat; they just bounce off and land on my seat.

I bet that if one of them stabbed me head on, it wouldn’t even hurt that much. It’s just that I’ve always been too afraid to face them.

‘Come on Cinderella, I found your Prince.’

The words entice me to stand and look behind the seat. I peek over, and see Cory holding Gerard in a head lock.

Angered, I walk off of the seat and into the aisle, which seems even bigger than the seats. I run down the aisle trying to get to Cory and Gerard. I make it, and tackle Cory, going right through Gerard. It’s almost as if he was transparent or as invisible as people treat him.

I sit up in a rush. That’s strange that Gerard would be transparent. Why would that happen? I look at the clock. It’s 6:00 A.M.

Time for school.