Burn - DIZA Fanfiction

Chapter 2: Bruises, Bullies, and Boys

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

Beep, bee-

Smack!

Monday Morning. My favorite time of the week...

I roll onto my back, stretching my limbs awake from their deep slumber. Groaning, I manage to sit up. Down the hall, I hear the shower water running. Thomas must be in there. I rub my eyes and swing my legs out of the covers and onto the cold carpet. Quickly, I get dressed into black ripped jeans, some black and white vans, and a raspberry colored hoodie. I exit my bedroom and walk quietly down the corridor to the bathroom, not wanting to wake Dad up. I go to open the door but it's locked. Making a fist, I bang on the door "Thomas c'mon! I need to use the bathroom too!" I whine. A few seconds later Thomas opens the door "Jeez Liza, can you calm down?" he asks, pausing a video playing on his phone before going downstairs. I roll my eyes and enter the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I look into the mirror "Ahh!"

Oh wait. It's just me.

There's a large blue, green, purplish colored bruise just under my eye from when Dad attacked me last night. I lean over the sink to have a closer look at it in the mirror. I carefully with one finger touch it. I wince a bit. It's swollen up a little, but luckily not too noticeable. I unzip my make up bag and I delicately apply some concealer over it. Trying not to make it too unbearable. Once I'm happy with the coverage, I quickly draw on my eyebrows and fix anything else I need to, just enough so I can show my face in public. I comb my fingers through my nappy curls as I don't own a hairbrush. Because A. We can't afford one. and B. It makes me look like I have an Afro. I toss my hair into a simply pony tail, holding my hair in my hand to see how it looks. I let my curls fall around my face. Whatever. I pick up my toothbrush and brush my teeth as I'm not allowed any food. Once I'm finished, I unlock the bathroom door and leave to go downstairs. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I look to my right and see Mom, hungover, in her dressing gown, talking to Thomas. "Have a good day Darling. I'll see you later after school. Love you Honey" says Mom, standing on her tiptoes, reaching to give Thomas a peck on the cheek. Thomas exchanges the gesture by giving Mom a kiss on her cheek back and wraps his arm around her torso "I love you too Mom" he replies, picking up his car keys. Holding onto one of his bag straps, he grabs the door knob of the front door. He turns and looks at me. We share a brief moment, both waiting for someone to say something. He breaks eye contact and opens the door "Yeah, uh, see ya" he mumbles, fleeing from the silence and heading towards his car. Leaving me at the bottom of the stairs. "You're going to be late to school! Get walking Girly" Mom snaps, hurling my backpack at me. I catch it in fright and fling it onto my back. "Love you Mom" I say about to leave through the door. "Yeah, sure" mumbles Mom, already taking off down the hallway, back to bed. Thomas has always been the favorite because he was "planned" or "wanted" and not a "surprise" or a "mistake" like me.

I step outside, closing the door behind me. I can already see Thomas' car turning the corner at the end of the street. Slowly, I start making my way to school. It usually takes about twenty minutes to get there. The longest twenty minutes of my day.

The school gates finally appear in the distance. As I arrive at the gates, I see Thomas' car parked in his usual spot, and his friend Sammy's scooter just in front of it. Following the crowd of students, I walk into the main corridors to find my locker. I can usually tell which one is mine, because every day there's always new sticky notes plastered on the door. I reach my locker and pick off the notes. "Bore" "Slut" "Nothing" "Ugly" "Trashy" "Weirdo" "No one Likes you" "Maybe you should lay off lunch today" "You don't belong here" "Fat"

"Does us a favor, Kill Yourself"

Eleven notes. That's a new record...

Scrunching them up, I toss them into the rubbish bin next to me. Opening my locker, I grab what ever books I need for my first couple classes. Then the dreaded sound of high heels boomed through the corridor. Here it comes. I don't dare to look, instead I bury my head into my locker, hoping they don't see me.