Hater

Eeeeeeee!!!!!! Got it professionally-done and everything. Eeeeee!
This deals with a lot of adulty-stuff, like eating disorders, self-harm, depression, murder, assault, rape... yeah. Either make sure you're old enough, or desperate enough, to read this. I'm ensuring I clearly mark the explicit scene and censoring the majority of it. If you reaaaally want to read it buy the book or read it on deviantART.
----
== 1 ==
Danielle Steele looked at Alice Harper, smiling politely, then looking at the sheet of paper on her desk. The words Alice, and cow were wrote all over it. Including the words whore, skank, ugly, fat.
Sniggering, Danielle folded it up neatly, stood up, brushed past Alice and dropped the paper onto Alice's table. Hesitantly, she opened it, recognising the familiar insults and merely putting the paper into her blazer pocket, laughing to herself silently; reminding herself that she would eventually leave, and be free from the pandemonium she called 'life'. As she pulled her arm back up, her face distorted as she felt the stinging of fresh cuts.
"Alice, what can you tell me about today's lesson?"
Bewildered by the suddeness of the inquiry, Alice blinked, disarmed, looking at her book. Simply doodles and little tiny drips of fresh blood that had seeped through the page.
"Alice?"
She looked, smiled and said "the wall-street crash was extremely important in how Germany lost the war."  With a sympathetic smile on her face, Mrs James simply dismissed Alice and told her that her answer was 'fine'.
"Right, thanks Alice for a great answer, we can all pack away but Alice I'd like to see you after the bell if you'd please."
Alice frowned a little, nodding her head and standing up, feeling her skinny jeans rubbing against her legs and irritating the wounds on her upper thigh. The whole class descended into a rumble of chatting, noises, laughing and the clanking of steel chair legs against the legs of tables, but Alice remained mute; eagerly counting down the minutes until the bell when she could finally go and see her "friends". With a piercing loudness, the bell rang and most of the students walked out, and one threw a paperball at Alice's head and she brushed it off ignoring the rage growing inside her. "Alice, here for a moment, and bring your book."
Mrs James had always been quite a nice teacher. Alive had brought herself to confide in her multiple times, but whenever she did, she'd stop herself from admitting what she did to herself. The scars, cuts, burns, bruises... they were all locked away in Alice's pretty little head along with the starvation and throwing up.
Placing the book on the wooden desk, Mrs James flicked to today's work, then flipped back two days, pointing at the blood stain. "Alice, what is this?"
"My pen leaked in class."
"This was homework."
"My pen leaked at home."
"You can tell me anything, you know, Alice. I've hurt myself before, and I understand." With a bitterly sweet smile and 'understanding' eyes, Mrs James attempted to get Alice to open up but all it was doing was increasing her temper and making Alice more wound up, more eager to hit the wall.
"God's truth, it was my pen." Mrs James shut the book, slid it over to Alice and frowned, taking off her cat-eye glasses and sighing, looking down.
"I thought we had an understanding, Alice. I won't tell anyone, even though it's my duty."  Inside Alice's head was the many thoughts from earlier. Guilt, pain, anger, remorse, sorrow, hatred. But with all the help offered to her, she'd always reject it, no matter who offered; and though it killed Alice to not tell anyone, she knew it'd be worse if she did tell someone. She'd pushed away her last boyfriend by refusing to tell him anything, and though they still talked, she hated herself.
"Miss... it's the truth." Alice painted on another one of her infamous smiles that tricked anyone and everyone. Lauging a little, Alice picked up the book. "Seriously, I'm perfectly fine!" Mrs James shook her head and rested her hand in her left palm, flicking her right hand up and down at the door lightly, indicating that Alice could go.
Leaving the safety of the room, Alice felt lost, bewildered, hated. And more importantly, she felt angry. She crossed her arms after she slung her black backpack over her shoulder and looked directly at the floor and keeping her head low whilst avoiding any and all eye contact. As she walked down the hall, many people looked at her and pointed and a few of them spoke about her, and even fewer threw things or called her names to her face. She overheard one group of people call her a stick-thin whore, and another group calling her a fat cow. It seemed like nobody could make their minds up about what they thought - some thought she was stick thin, others called her fat. Some people felt sympathy, some felt no remorse in throwing things and telling her to kill herself.
"Alice!"
Looking up just a little, she saw Charlie smiling her big smile, bounding over. "Hey Charlie." Charlie was gorgeous, and was really one of the only friends Alice had, despite Charlie's many faults, Alice cherished her. Charlie flicked her long brown hair back out of her face and pulled her pink Motorola out of her pocket.
"So, the sexy Lexi tells me you were out of school for a week." Charlie smiled. "I wondered why!"
"Well sexy Lexi is right. I was..." trying to conjure up an excuse, Alice thought.
"Lexi says you were in the ICU." Alice blankly looked, astounded. Yeah, in intensive care for both not eating for a month (and passing out) and then cutting so deep they thought she'd severed a vein. But she couldn't tell Charlie that. Lexi was Alice's best friend, and to Alice's knowledge had never said anything about her behind her back. But what she knew, and what the truth was, were two seperate things entirely.
"No. I was on holiday." Thinking on what she had just told Charlie, she thought it was a rather pathetic excuse; not only did Charlie see Alice's mother next to every day, but also Lexi had already told Charlie where she was.
"No you weren't!" Charlie smiled, looked at her phone, then put it into her pocket. "You're too thin, babes." Alice laughed. "What? What are you laughing at?"
"I'm not too thin." She pointed at her thighs. "Jesus, look at that: fat everywhere." Alice stopped smiling, remembering last night when somebody called her fat. She vowed to stop eating, and lose at least ten pounds before Summer which was only three weeks away.
Charlie tutted, dismissed her, then turned to walk away. "Catch up with me later, yeah? I have a date with Vince Miles."
"The Sixth Former?" Charlie nodded then walked away, leaving Alice to her thoughts. Though it wasn't exactly home time for her, she despised her teachers and decided to simply go home. Go back to her loving mother, abusive father, and broken family.
Leaving the school was never easy - though she bitterly resented every day she went in, she hated going home. Her mother was a lovely 39 year old lady with a stable job and a job on the side, but her father was a sexually frustated and malicious liar, abuser, and alcoholic. Every night at half past seven, he'd arrive yelling. But that was never the worst of Alice's problems. She'd lock her doors when he came back, but on multiple occassions he'd catch her in the bathroom and beat her, or worse; and it was all just the same routine for her by now.
Harshly, the wind whipped at the small girl's thin frame, and biting at her rosy cheeks. She pulled her books into her chest tighter, allowing her eyes to well up with tears and eventually, they broke from her eyes and she was crying. Unintentionally, she had singularly wrecked her chances of going home, smiling and having a decent night. The only way now that she could go home happy was if she went straight to Thomas' house. And he wasn't exactly Mr. Charming. He got Alice drunk - so drunk, she couldn't remember her own name. But at least she was happy, for a time. She stood at the forking roads - go to Thomas', or go home. She took the left, briskly stepping into the road with the intention of being hit by a car, but that road was relatively isolated and the only cars that went by were travelling at a mere twenty miles an hour - hardly enough to kill her.
By the time she arrived at Thomas', it was already half four and she could see no sign that any one was home. That meant that Alice could try and knock the door because Thomas may be in, or she could return to her home where her mother would kill her for being home late. Either way, she had to do something. Slowly and quietly, she walked up to the front door and knocked a little, hugging herself tighter. She heard nobody inside. As she was about to turn and leave, the door was unlocked, and opened slightly, Thomas looked out of it, with his eyes slightly open as though he'd just woken up. As he opened the door further, Alice duely noted he was wearing but dark blue, tight jeans and nothing else. He smiled a little at her and welcomed her in. "Hey Al."
Drug usage & self harm & other adulty stuff from now on 
She smiled and entered the house, smelling the familiarity of cannibis, and as she entered the living room, she saw the regular lines of white powder and his mums credit card beside it. Thomas, though Alice would hate to admit, was a druggie. He was 16 and did coke, as well as smoked weed. But Thomas always said he wasn't addicted - it just "mellowed" him out. Alice never touched the stuff, except for weed, but she hated herself for touching any of it. It made her feel better, but when she came down from the high, she'd always feel dirty and horrible.
Thomas grabbed Alice from behind and hugged her, and he did so she smelt weed on his breath, and knew he'd done at least one line of coke. "I haven't seen you for like, a week." He let her go and took her into the lounge where he sat up at the table and beckoned for her to sit beside her.
"Yeah, sorry."
"No worries. You okay?" He was always interested in Alice, but he was never the first person she'd go to, and she wouldn't call him a friend as such because he could be quite the bully, but when he was "mellowed" he was usually lovely.
"Yeah. You?"
"Just a bit worried. Let me see your arm bub." He shuffled the coke from the table into the bag within seconds. As she rolled up her sleeve to revel the neat lines of blood and fresh cuts, she seemed to be disgusted in herself. He wasn't disgusted - he was upset, you could tell it in his eyes and in his expression. "What the hell? Why?"
"Dad did it again."
"He hit you?"
"No."
Thomas put his head to the table and shook it, but then looked back up at the fragile girl. "I hate him. Look, my mum gets back soon. So if you want a quickie we can do it now, but..."
Alice shook her head violently. "No, not today."
They both smiled a little but they both knew they were empty smiles. "Okay." Thomas grabbed at her arm and kissed the deepest cut, remembering his promise. "I promised I'd keep you safe yeah? But I didn't." After letting her go, he pulled a blunt blade from his pocket, placing it on the table. It was highly rusted, and neither of them fancied using it for anything, but Thomas always brought out his stash.
"Look I do it too so I know how bad it is... wait is it nearly five?"
Alice nodded. Thomas grabbed the blade and bag of powder and shoved them into his pocket. "I guess I have to go." They both stood up and he grabbed her, pushing his hands up her back and forcing her into him.
"Come over more." She pulled away and quickly left, ensuring she had all her possessions and making sure her sleeves were pulled down before she passed Thomas' mum on the way down the road. It was only fifteen minutes back to Alice's house and it was usually a nice walk - plenty of time to think, to ignore the world, to forget everything.
== 2 - Home, sweet Home ==
Alice got back, a little after twenty past five. She'd taken her sweet time walking against the harsh wind, but never the less, she wasn't too late. As she entered the house, it was silent and upon enterring the living room, Alice's mother was asleep on the couch with the cat, and no sign of her dad.
She quietly, and quickly went up to her bedroom and locked the door, throwing her books and bag to the wooden floor and staring at her reflection in the full mirror. She furrowed her brow, and frowned, looking at herself. There was always gonna be something wrong with her. Either she wanted bigger boobs, or wanted a thinner waistline. But it all came back to the scars. Every time she drew blood from herself, she was destroying herself. And though she hated the scars, she refused to stop cutting for aesthetic reasons - it was her way to cope.
She walked up to the mirror and pulled off her shirt, staring for a few moments before running her hand down her protuding rib-cage and shuddering. She was always so cold recently and she hated it.But what could she do? It was her own fault, but she wanted it - right? She sighed, and remembered every day was the same. The insults, the hate, the malicious threats, the painful crying, the throwing up in any and all toilets, the calorie counting, and then the repetetive and monotonous beating. She clenched her fists into a ball and swung her arm accross everything on the dressing table, listening to the glass smash on the floor and the perfume seeping into the wood as well as the many make-up pallets that had now stained the floor.
Her breathing increased as her anger grew. Her mind was a flurry of insults she'd been called, a whirlwind of various hate letters; they told her to kill herself, to hurt herself, to starve herself. But now, her views were changed slightly. Killing others, instead of taking that pain out on herself? It just seemed to send little alarm bells ringing, little bells that told her she could make it through this, alive, or dead.
Thinking of curious little scenes, she saw the many faces of her haters bloodied and hanging from their bunkbeds or ceilings. She smirked, and the anger began to subside as her pain began to seep into her once more. She looked at her arm, not too many fresh cuts. Only about 5. And the words she had inked onto herself reminded her that she'd never be good enough; perfect, zero, and thin. They all motivated her through her days of starvation and exercising, where the hunger pains were her friends. Touching at her smooth, flat stomach she remembered the day she started to become like this. It all started when she refused lunch, something simple but something that set her on the road of self-destruction.
Her lips grew into a frown and she drew an invisible line down the surface of her desk as she eyed up the contact lens case: inside was the beautiful sharpener blades she'd forced upon herself. She touched her fingers against it and opened it, looking at the little clots of blood around the edges and picking up the silver blade. IT was recently re-sharpened, and looked divine. She touched it to her arm and within minutes she was back into her state of mind that told her she would be okay. That she'd always be okay. And that it was all her fault. Nothing could make her see otherwise: it was all black and white for her.
She carved a total of 43 vertical and horizontal lines into her arm and forearm, before she dropped the blade, disgusted at herself.
"What have I become?" Tears once again stained her face as she thought of herself as a monster. A despicable, horrid monster that deserved to die. But then again, not everything goes right in life. It just so happens some people deal with it better than others. And with the irreparable damage done to Alice, she couldn't just 'cope' anymore.
Pulling her body straight up, she heard the Tri-Tone text ring and she looked at the iPhone on the floor. Though she'd thrown it many times, it had not a single scratch. It was an unknown number. Bending over, she clutched the phone and slid the bar accross to read the message.
Hey sket, saw u today u look horrible haha rlly ur fat n disgustin go kill urself before we do it for u !!!!!
Throwing the phone back to the floor, she no longer felt like the monster. The monsters were her enemies, the ones that had made Alice do that to herself.
She screamed, cried, yelled, shouted, fell down and then put both of her delicate hands over her mouth, muffling her cries. She was a mess. A distaster. A horrible fat monster. She had no idea why her mother loved her - she was such a failure. And she knew it too, not only did her friends and family tell her but even on the internet where people would anonymously post on her Tumblr. She felt like she had no escape and the voices inside her head which screamed the words hate and kill were getting all too loud. Too loud for her to drown out anymore and the whole fact that she felt like this was just contributing to a mess that would just resurface, much like a volcano erupting; it was simply a matter of time.
Category:Realistic Fiction
Category:Realistic Fiction