Broken Pieces

Broken Pieces

A Story by Infected Rose (aca Approaching Skull)
"

A story about a girl and a love triangle... Enough said..

"

            Her thoughts were swimming around her head, looping around her hands, crawling under her skin, invading her perfect memories. Blood was forming; slowly enclosing her in fear and weakness, catching the end of every breath she took. Every good she had done was worthless, every mistake she made was haunting her sleepless nights. Pressure was building against her skull, her head ready to explode, her emotions ready to seep out of every wound, her dreams ready to run away, her nightmares ready to work her to oblivion.

            Callie-Rose opened her eyes to see nothing but white toilet walls and polished floors. She rested her head against the cubical door, wiping the perspiration from her forehead. Pulling down her shirt sleeve, she adjusted her watch.

             The school bell had rang for class ten minutes ago. She rushed to her feet and scrambled out the cubical door. She fell against the wall, realising she couldn’t rush the progress of healing wounds. She held onto her wounds, searching for some bandages or tissues to bind around her cuts. She dug into her gym kit and tore her t-shirt into strips, her fingers slipping with anxiety. She knotted them together and looped the strip of fabric around her arm. She looked at herself in the mirror, the blood already seeping through the material. She fixed her hair so it sat over her eye, pulled her shirt down and done her tie from scratch.

“You’ll last one more day,” Callie-Rose said, placing her palm on the mirror.

            She turned away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door, the winter breeze spilling into the doorway. As she stepped out, not one teacher roamed the corridor. The fire bell hadn’t gone off, there was no assembly and there was no chance that the entire school’s inhabitants were in their classes for no reason. Although her curiosity pleaded her to look about, her mind told her to take the chance for granted. She dodged her way down the main corridor, staying to the left side so she wasn’t drawing attention to herself. She stumbled over a few carrier bags full of gym kits and tripped over a school bag that had been thrown into a pile.

            As she reached the top of the corridor, she ran up the stairs and through the main reception. Guidance teacher’s stood about, turned around to look her up and down, and then continued with their daily chit-chat about school policies and teacher absences. She made her way across the playground and up the stairs to P.S.E., trying not to take it to heart that she always got looked up and down by teachers.

            She reached the top of the stairs and turned left, darting into the room and immediately sitting down. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, although everyone was in class and started the task set out on the board.

“Oi! Chicken neck!” Amelia bawled, throwing Callie-Rose’s jotter at the back of her head.

Amelia and her friends started making chicken noises, raising Callie-Rose’s blood pressure. She had tried hard to lose the weight; she knew that she had to, just to be accepted. She had given up once, sick of seeing her face in the mirror, round and red, almost like a cherry. She had gotten fed up of being called names in the playground, when her mum just told her to grow a thicker skin. Callie-Rose had reached for something sharp and tried to cut the fat off of her chin, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt; just take away a small part of the problem. But it hurt, it hurt so much, it was the only time she felt pain. She remembered how tight she held her fists, biting down on her lip so her family didn’t hear her over their own laughter downstairs. She didn’t like to think about it, but the things you don’t want to remember, you remember the most. Nothing was ever on her mind of great importance. The only thing that was on her mind recently was Richard.

            She felt stupid whenever he fell into her mind. She would be working from a textbook, then suddenly think of him, as if he was haunting her thoughts. How she loved his smile, and his eyes, and everything else about him. She loved him, but Amelia loved Richard too. Callie-Rose knew deep down, that maybe he would think about her once in a while, but she had been told to give up on her dreams by Amelia, because they were stupid and pointless. That’s all Amelia saw in Callie-Rose.

            Amelia wasn’t someone Callie-Rose got along with; in fact, Amelia was everything Callie-Rose wanted to be. Amelia didn’t have to fight to stay alive or fight to keep her family together. Amelia didn’t have to go out of her way to get attention or to speak. Callie-Rose had always wanted to be her, although the chances were one in a million.

 

“Callie?” Richard laughed, trying to wake her up from her subconscious thought-bubble.

Stunned, she smiled, “Sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for, you’ve not done anything wrong,” he smiled, turning his attention to the teacher that had just walked in.

            The teacher’s eyes immediately went to Amelia, shutting her up for the first time all day. He was an old man; short and considerably sick minded (only the sense of humour people like Callie-Rose caught onto.) He always looked like he was up to mischief, although he just laughed away to himself, much to the amusement of the pupils in the front row.

“Shut it!” he bawled, smiling as he caught the eye of Callie-Rose.

            She didn’t smile back like she usually did; she only looked down to the floor. His smile squinted into a seriously worried face.

            He went through the register before telling the class what they were doing for the time being. Groaning and moaning, the class unsettled from its quiet mumbling to roaring fury.

“Do we have to go and see the musical?” one boy asked, looking like he desperately needed the toilet

“Yes. Get out that door,” the teacher replied.

“Can I have a word?” the teacher asked, stopping Callie-Rose before she could step out the classroom.

She sighed, turning around and facing him.

“Smile?” he said, almost laughing, almost crying.

She didn’t, although her eyes sparkled, she kept her lips in a straight line, not showing any emotion. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the table. He sat and studied her for a few seconds, wondering if he could see anything that she was locking away.

“Look at me,” he whispered, leaning forward.

            She looked up at him; the sparkle in her eyes had disappeared. Callie-Rose didn’t want to be in the classroom a minute longer than she should be. She felt something, almost like he was hugging her through thought. She shook the thought out of her head, returning her gaze to the floor.

“You’re broken,” he said, leaning back.

            She looked at him in complete bewilderment; the emotion she was hiding ripped her apart, showing him her true colours. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she backed up against the door, wondering whether to collapse into a heap or to run. Either way, she knew that she wouldn’t escape him.

“I’m not going to try and understand, I’m not going to try and convince you into talking to someone,” he started, making the tears flow from her eyes faster,” But talking to someone might help you. From what you display in class, you really do need help.”

            He leaned forward again, reaching out to clasp her hand but she flinched, her body slamming off the door. She opened it and ran. Her feet slammed off the floor, a progressive pattern of footsteps getting heavier and faster as she ran through the corridor. She didn’t have a bag, or a coat, or a phone or anything, she just ran for her life.

            The teacher went to the doorway, looking out to see if she was still in the corridor, but she was gone, already half way across the school. She slowed down as she reached the playground, remembering that every first and second year class were in the assembly hall watching the musical. Gaining back her normal breathing pattern, she kneeled down on the steps. She looked across the playground, waiting for the music in the hall to start so she could scream her heart out. A single tear ran down her cheek, travelling down the line of her hair and dropping down onto the concrete pavement underneath her feet.

            She felt as if she was being watched, being examined by someone whom she did not know, did not recognise. There was an unwanted thought in her head that was convincing her that someone was watching her every move and a discomfort that travelled through the middle of her bones as she pulled her knees to her chest. The teacher from P.S.E. pasted by, stopped to look at Callie-Rose but kept on walking into the assembly hall. Her bottom lip trembled, a muffled weep coming from her mouth.

            She was nothing, that’s all she was. She had tried to convince herself otherwise, but her feelings knew she was as well facing the truth, telling her that there was no point in telling herself more lies. She felt like another pupil that walked through the teacher’s door, just another feeling that they chose to ignore. She prayed that they would ask if she was feeling alright or feeling okay, but there was no point in trying when it was clear that they didn’t pay the blindest bit of attention to their pupils, no matter how hard she tried, the teacher’s at her school didn’t notice her.

           

            Almost an hour had pasted as Callie-Rose looked up at the clock hanging inside the reception of her school. Although she didn’t want to set foot in the building, she forced her feet across the threshold of the P.E. changing rooms for next class. She sat on one of the benches, pulling the zips down on her boots. She dug into her gym bag and pulled out her clothes and shoes, unravelling her clothes and laying them along the bench beside her. She froze, scanning the pile of clothes in front of her.

            She had almost forgotten that she had used her t-shirt as an aid for her arm earlier. She added up the times she had forgotten her kit before in her head, cursing under her breath as the number stopped at four. Drawing up a scenario in her mind, she zipped her boots back up and rolled her gym tracksuit up. The bell started to ring as she heard movement coming along the corridor. She stood up and held her breath before stepping out of the changing rooms.

            Amelia was one of the first people in the corridor, Richard at her heals. She turned around to peck him on the cheek; giving Callie-Rose a side glance as she walked past.  Callie-Rose didn’t care, but Richard did. He shoved Amelia away and stormed into the boys’ changing rooms.

            Both P.E. teachers stood at the doors at the end of the corridor. The first one approached Callie-Rose, the fire in his eyes turning into a petrol fuelled inferno. He pointed to the door leading into the gym hall, which was where she slowly walked to. He stood in front of her, making her feel even smaller than what she already felt.

“Where’s your P.E. kit?” he asked, no sympathy, no touch of giving her a chance in his voice.

            She opened her mouth, no words coming out. He sighed, crossing his arms.

“You do realise that’s the fifth time you’ve forgotten your gym kit!” the first P.E. teacher said, raising his voice to draw attention to himself.

“Yes sir,” Callie-Rose replied, keeping her voice down and her head low.

“Go and sit in the corner, you’re staying in at lunch and don’t expect to have a break either!” he shouted, pointing his finger in her face.

            She did what she was told, taking a slightly anxious side-glance at the second P.E. teacher who just stood and watched her walk. The P.E. teacher’s were both male, but two completely opposite people.

The first of the teachers was an outrageously vain guy who showed nothing but interest in the sound of his own voice but the other had an unusual look about him that you could trust and tell anything to him.            

She grasped her arm, the shredded t-shirt strips falling down her arm, revealing the raw flesh that still oozed dark blood. The second P.E. teacher looked at her and jogged over, touching the wet patch on her sleeve.

“Blood?” he said, trying to pull her out of the corner of the hall.

            She wriggled away from him, pulling her sleeve tightly around her arm to support the skin that was still leaking. Disbelief crossed the P.E. teacher’s face, probably asking himself why anyone wouldn’t want help.

            Callie-Rose barged past him, making her way down the hall and out the doors. She fell against the wall, trying to hold herself up. A sudden pain in her temples arose and a dizzy storm of sweat and fear crossed her head. She fell forward again, feeling an arm trying to ease her to her feet. She shrugged the arm off, realising that the P.E. teacher followed her out of the hall. Again, she clutched her arm, the blood flow getting faster and thicker.

“Are you alright?” the teacher asked, although he already had the answer in his head.

            He pulled her up and leaned her against the wall. She refused to be helped, trying to get to her feet. He put pressure on her shoulders, making her feel trapped. She moaned, trying her best to attack the teacher. Before she had the chance to scream, her body numbed, her head fell down…

 

“RICHARD! Get away from her now!” Amelia’s voice was so vague, so distant.

            Callie-Rose unconsciousness didn’t seem to come around, the darkness still filling everywhere she looked. She tried her best to open her eyes and see where she was, but there was an unknown pressure keeping her eyes closed. She could feel someone close, someone’s hand on hers.

“Would someone get him away from her?” someone shouted, although she was unable to register who it was.

“I’m not leaving her!” Richard was the only voice she could recognise.

            She had am immense, mysterious pressure building on her chest, her breath short and quick. She tried to speak, tried to move, but the darkness was pinning her down to the floor.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, close to her ear.

            She felt a tear running down her face, whether or not it was happening in reality as well as her unconscious world, she felt it right at that moment. The satisfaction of his words faded, the sounds that had made her uncertain of where she was, ran into the distance and the shadowed nightmare that had once surrounded her, came back.

 

            Opening her eyes, Callie-Rose felt as if she had been drowning under muddy water. Her clothes were sticking to her body, the immense heat coming from the radiators not making her feel any better. Blinking, she looked around; searching for a silhouette of a teacher or pupil but nobody was in sight. She lined her back up against the wall and moaned, slamming her head in her hands. She sighed, pulling herself to her feet while gripping onto the radiator. Her head thumped back onto the wall, her mind ready to explode. Clutching her head, she crawled her way along the wall. Wandering senior pupils glanced at her in hatred, cursing under their breath. She grimaced, mildly reminding herself of the words she had carved into her arm several hours ago. Her mind escaped, heading back to the room she had started the school day in. She had to get back there, whatever it took. She straightened up, gagging on the pain that flowed along her chest. Her reflexes kicked in, the vomit flying down onto the floor.

“Where are you going?” the first P.E. teacher asked, swiftly walking down the corridor.

            She wiped the vomit from her lips and started walking in the opposite direction, slowly fastening her pace. He cursed.

“Don’t ignore me Miss. Taylor! You get yourself over here now!” he yelled, extending every word by a syllable or two.

            She paid no attention to his demanding threats, focusing on the door that was only a few strides away.

“Do I need to tell-“

            She pushed the door open, the cold and bleach smelling misty air flowed into her face. The door slammed shut, muffling the teacher’s voice.

            Callie-Rose collapsed onto the same polished floors she had started the day on. She cried, pulling herself into a ball, trying to block out all those unwanted feelings she had, trying to block out the P.E. teacher’s cursing and threatening demands. Her mind was spinning; her body couldn’t stop shaking vigorously. She felt a part of her soul dying, dripping into poison and running out of her swollen eyes. She wanted to feel the same pain she had felt earlier, just to escape the unknown feelings she was experiencing. She rested her chin against her chest, imagining she was in someone else’s arms except her self’s. Her head lay on the cold floor, giving herself a numbing sensation, giving herself something to feel other than the salty tears running down her face and dripping onto the floor. She never wanted to be this way, it wasn’t her fault. Except she kept on telling herself it was her fault, emotionally bullying herself into believing she was all those things she got called in the playground, bullying herself into believing that all those years she told her mind that she was alright, were a waste of time. She was becoming a victim of her own mind’s aggression, her mind’s hate of the person that she was transforming into. It was breaking her into the smallest pieces; she was the jigsaw puzzle that nobody could solve, the one everyone gave up on when they saw the picture on the box. That’s all she was, a puzzle in a box.

            She pulled herself together enough to sit up against one of the walls, pushing an ear against the bricks, listening to the screaming of the teacher outside.

“She’s trouble! Get her punished!” he had shouted, fellow teachers mumbling.

            There was a double knock at the door, followed by a soft voice.

“Please come out,” Richard said, a slight hope changing his tone completely.

            She didn’t reply, her mind in shock. How Richard managed to get away from Amelia was beyond her.

“Will you shut up for one minute!?” Richard yelled, obviously directing it to the teacher who immediately fell silent.

            Richard turned back towards the door, opening it slightly and peering in.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes searching the bathroom.

“Depends on what you class as hurt,” she replied light-heartedly.

            She had no anger left in her body, only the queer happiness that came over her when she had been crying for a long period of time.

“Please come out,” he whispered, pulling the door open more.

“I guess I’ll have to,” she started, “The longer I stay in here, the more trouble I’ll be in.”

            She stood up and started to walk towards the door, the frame shuddering as Richard pulled it open. His dark eyes pierced through the thin skin she had tried to grow, the frame on which her skin had lain, trembled.

            He put an arm around her shoulder, walking towards the classroom at the end of the corridor. Callie-Rose kept her head down, every teacher from the classrooms down the corridor had evacuated out of their classrooms to see what the P.E. teacher was on about this time. Richard gave them all a half-hearted glance, shaking his head at anyone who tried to approach them, but all the while, he kept the arm around Callie-Rose’s shoulder still so she didn’t think everyone was watching her.

            Richard opened the door to the classroom, hovering in the doorway as he passed Callie-Rose her jacket and let her sit down. He shut the door and looked out the tiny window. To his relief, everyone started going back into their classroom.

            She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket, holding herself in her own arms. Richard looked at her, wishing he could wrap her in his arms and tell her it would be okay. She looked up at him.

“I…,” she started, unable to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be, it’s me that should be sorry,” Callie-Rose started,” I’m the one losing faith in myself. I’m the one that was a breath away from killing myself, a step away from letting myself down by giving in.”

            She folded her jacket over her arms and kept it close to herself, almost imagining it was a pillow or a soft toy. She felt so selfish to drag Richard into her situation. She had to keep telling herself she was alright, but whenever she did, she let herself down.

“You don’t have to stay here with me, I’m fine now,” she said, standing up, but immediately feeling dizzy and sitting back down again.

“You don’t expect me to leave you or believe you?” Richard smirked, offering to take her jacket.

            She gave it to him, still holding herself tight. He felt as if he should leave, but at the same time, he was caught up with his feelings for her.

“Why do you do it then?” he asked, assuming she knew what he was talking about.

            She went silent. She never had an answer to that question. She had always asked herself why she had done it, but the answer had never been clear.

“May I?” he whispered, kneeling down and pointing at her bandage.

            She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t judge her. He took her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Apart from the bandaged up wounds, she had several scars and words carved into her arm below the dressing. He unwound the dressing around her arm as if she was an antique worth an unimaginable amount of money. She flinched.

“Sorry,” he said, taking the bandage off.

            Callie-Rose turned away from her arm, unable to look at herself.

“It’s your fault? What’s your fault?” he asked, looking over the other scars that read fat, useless and a few he couldn’t make out from the blood that had dried into her skin.

“Everything,” she said, turning back towards him.

            Richard unscrewed the top of his water bottle and took a packet of tissues out of his bag. He poured some of the water onto a tissue and rolled up her sleeve.

“This will sting,” he said, looking up at her.

“You really don’t-“she bit down on her lip as he dabbed the wounds.

“If you don’t think about it, it won’t hurt as much,” he said, reassuring her.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“I’ll answer that once you answer my question. How long have you been self-harming?”  He replied, still dabbing the raw flesh.

She smiled as he pulled down her sleeve and binned the blood-stained tissue.

“Over a year now,” she said, her smile fading and the look of distant thought appearing across her face.

“You don’t have to hold your feelings in anymore,” Richard said, taking her hands and squeezing them tight.

            She smiled, shaking her head.

“Two years have been and gone, I can’t change that, nobody can,” she started, slipping her hands out of his,” I can only imagine the worst. I can only think of the insanity that I’ve went through and the insanity I could go through.”

            She looked out the window, her breath fogging up the window. He followed her gaze, looking down at the couple holding a little boy.

“I can’t imagine having something like that,” she said, her gaze never leaving the couple that were staring into each others’ eyes, smiling.

“You don’t have to imagine it, you can feel it,” Richard replied, looking at her.

            She looked at him, slightly confused. He smirked, leaning forward. His lips met hers for a matter of seconds then he pulled away. She still looked confused.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“I did that because I love you.”

            For once, Callie Rose didn’t know what to say, she just smiled. She slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

            Amelia stood in front of the door, looking in through the window and plotting revenge as she stared at the scene happening in the classroom. Never had she been so angry and upset in her life. Her body was shaking with rage, and her eyes were brimming with tears. She had tried so hard to get Richard for herself but he was stolen from her by Callie-Rose. Amelia never thought anything of this girl, all she knew was that she had no friends and she was an ‘Emo’. Amelia barged into the room, trying her best to look surprised.

“Oh, sorry to interrupt but the bell has gone for class and I’m here for Business Studies,” she smiled, hiding the fact that she wanted to whack Callie-Rose across the face desperately.

            Callie-Rose blushed, heading out the room before anything else could be said. Richard was left looking Amelia up and down, wondering what she was going to do to him. He was right to be afraid.

“What are you doing hugging an ‘Emo’?” she laughed, making it sound like he could go to prison for such a thing.

He looked down at his watch, the bell hadn’t rung yet.

“Why do you hate her so much?” he asked, curious of what she would come out with.

“Let me show you,” she replied, grabbing his arm and pulling him down towards the playground.

They paced over to where Callie-Rose was standing, making a scene to stir up trouble. Amelia grabbed her, pulling her sleeves up and showing everyone her scars.

“She’s an attention seeking little monster. She’s a control freak and a b***h, nobody loves her and she should just die,” Amelia screamed, pointing and throwing her arms around.

Callie-Rose pulled her sleeves down and darted towards the girls’ bathroom. Richard went to follow but Amelia grabbed his arm and slapped him across the face.

“I knew she was a self-harmer, she told me that!” he shouted, furious and rubbing his stinging cheek.

“And you just accepted that she’s a freak?” Amelia yelled, slightly amused by his reply.

“She’s not a freak. She’s a human being that has no different rights than you and me. You’re so selfish sometimes,” he hissed.

“I’m not the selfish one, she is!” Amelia snapped starting to laugh.

Her laugh killed him inside, its cruelty ripping the valves of his heart out. He gripped the window ledge, hoping he had enough courage left to tell her what she really meant to him.

The rain got heavy, the drops of water hitting off the school windows and dripping down to the playground gravel. Richard gave Amelia a stone cold stare. She smiled, thinking she had done herself proud. He shook his head in disgust.

“You’re so stuck up, do you know that Amelia? And you think I should love you?” he snarled, his face turning a shade of red.

“Oh, I’ve been told many times, but I’ve got a thick skin,” she said, her grin becoming wider.

“You may have a thick skin,” Richard started, standing face to face with her, “But you’ve got one hell of a thick skull as well.”

Amelia’s smile faded, a gradual anger growing inside her. She gave him a cold stare before swinging her hand around his face. He grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand to waist level before placing his lips centimetres away from her ear. She squirmed.

“I don’t love you Amelia, face it. Don’t you ever come near me or Callie-Rose again. If you do… I think you can guess what I’ll do,” he whispered, enjoying the look of horror smacked across her face.

He let go of her before turning away from the mess he had made. He ran across the playground, heading into the girls’ bathroom and ignoring the looks as he entered. Callie-Rose slit her wrist, blood pouring out of one and the other beginning to flow. She looked up at him, the colour draining away from her face.

He snatched the razorblade from the palm of her hand and pressed down on her wrist, stopping any more blood from spilling out. Her eyes set upon his solid gaze, making tears fill her eyes. He looked down on her, running his fingers through her hair, giving her the most reassuring smile she had seen in years. She smiled back at him, reaching up to feel his clean shaven face. Her fingertips ran over his skin, the feeling of anxiety running through his veins. Her eyes shone as she felt herself slipping away into darkness, her body heavy and lifeless. He panicked, shaking her, hoping that she might stay awake for a few more seconds. It was no use; she was slipping into unconsciousness, her breath cold. He took her in his arms as he screamed for help, praying that someone will help her. He hugged her tight, kissing her smooth, gleaming hair.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered as he started rocking back and forth.

Tears poured over his face, dripping down onto her pale and broken skin.

The door crashed open; teacher’s flooding into the bathroom, reaching out to take her away from him. He refused to let her go, everything blurring as he cried so hard that his eyes dripped sore. She slipped out of his arms, taken away from him and out of this world. She was taken, leaving the world broken and unwanted.

 

“Callie-Rose Taylor

Sister, Daughter and a Dear Friend

Your smile will be missed

Forever in our hearts, you’ve touched the lives of others

We will fix the broken pieces of you”

© 2011 Infected Rose (aca Approaching Skull)


Author's Note

Infected Rose (aca Approaching Skull)
This was actually an open love triangle story written for an imaginative story assignment at school :)

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Reviews

omg. it is a very, very good and descriptive story. it... there's no way to describe it, really. it's great. sad, but great.

Posted 11 Years Ago



Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

217 Views
1 Review
Added on February 13, 2011
Last Updated on February 13, 2011