"Name them."
Why ask the obvious? Morgan thought as she walked through the living room of her family's two-bedroom apartment. For a moment, she pondered crashing on their plush couch. Then she looked at Amy's unfaltering gaze. To the bedroom, then. "Giselle, Andalaisa, and the fact that I'm only twelve years old." She said. "Now, if you excuse me-" Morgan flung open her bedroom door. "I'll be in my bedroom, not sleeping because it's not a school-night!" And with that, she took two steps in and slammed the door behind her.
For a few moments, everything was quiet as she crept through the darkness of her room. Then, when her calves found the fuzzy fur of her blanket, she collapsed. "Alone at la-" Morgan stifled a groan as she rolled across her mattress in agony. Every inch of her left side throbbed. "Stupid...drama..." Nails drove into her shoulder. It's just your shoulder, Morgan. You aren't dying. Don't freak ou-ARGH She pressed her face into a large, memory foam pillow. Knowing it's sound-proofing abilities from the crime shows Dad watched on nights Giselle went to bed early, Morgan let out every groan and whimper she'd held back during the meet. "I hate my life." She mumbled another secret kept from every soul she'd come in contact with. "If only-if only they'd just die!" With a yelp, Morgan turned back onto her good side. Tears streamed down her face. "If only I-"
No, Morgan. Don't you dare think about that. People care about you. Even if you're hiding, of all things, abuse from them; you are meant- "I know." Morgan whimpered into the darkness. "This is just a bump in the road. A blond, self-centered bump that has everything I lack." And what were these things? Morgan had once wrote them down during a particularly lonely lunch period. It had been one of those afternoons that her grade had decided she was a disease. The aforementioned blond, Elizabeth, had been watching every drop of ink streak across the paper of Morgan's journal; but Morgan hadn't cared. Even if Elizabeth had gone up and smacked her across the face, Morgan wouldn't have cared. She took punishment in a way few her age ever did. When it was dealt, she never gave into her humiliation until she was alone. And by alone, she meant away from any human life. Morgan was alone among her "peers", even if bodies pressed against her own in the hallways. Even if people smiled across the classroom.
Even if they told her that they really liked her.
T
Why ask the obvious? Morgan thought as she walked through the living room of her family's two-bedroom apartment. For a moment, she pondered crashing on their plush couch. Then she looked at Amy's unfaltering gaze. To the bedroom, then. "Giselle, Andalaisa, and the fact that I'm only twelve years old." She said. "Now, if you excuse me-" Morgan flung open her bedroom door. "I'll be in my bedroom, not sleeping because it's not a school-night!" And with that, she took two steps in and slammed the door behind her.
For a few moments, everything was quiet as she crept through the darkness of her room. Then, when her calves found the fuzzy fur of her blanket, she collapsed. "Alone at la-" Morgan stifled a groan as she rolled across her mattress in agony. Every inch of her left side throbbed. "Stupid...drama..." Nails drove into her shoulder. It's just your shoulder, Morgan. You aren't dying. Don't freak ou-ARGH She pressed her face into a large, memory foam pillow. Knowing it's sound-proofing abilities from the crime shows Dad watched on nights Giselle went to bed early, Morgan let out every groan and whimper she'd held back during the meet. "I hate my life." She mumbled another secret kept from every soul she'd come in contact with. "If only-if only they'd just die!" With a yelp, Morgan turned back onto her good side. Tears streamed down her face. "If only I-"
No, Morgan. Don't you dare think about that. People care about you. Even if you're hiding, of all things, abuse from them; you are meant- "I know." Morgan whimpered into the darkness. "This is just a bump in the road. A blond, self-centered bump that has everything I lack." And what were these things? Morgan had once wrote them down during a particularly lonely lunch period. It had been one of those afternoons that her grade had decided she was a disease. The aforementioned blond, Elizabeth, had been watching every drop of ink streak across the paper of Morgan's journal; but Morgan hadn't cared. Even if Elizabeth had gone up and smacked her across the face, Morgan wouldn't have cared. She took punishment in a way few her age ever did. When it was dealt, she never gave into her humiliation until she was alone. And by alone, she meant away from any human life. Morgan was alone among her "peers", even if bodies pressed against her own in the hallways. Even if people smiled across the classroom.
Even if they told her that they really liked her.
T
