What Burns On The Inside

(Author's Note:I got the idea for this story from my friend who gets bullied a lot. He knows real pain. This is what bullying is like.What real pain is.)It burns. Everything did. The scars. The pain was real. But nobody cared for me. I was nothing to them.

Nobody was an upstander to me. Nobody cared. Not one bit. You just lay there, on a lump of a tree root, with a scar down your face.

Nobody came. They just thought you were a jacket. A useless jacket that would eventually be picked up and thrown into the lost and found bin.

There were scars. On my face. Down my back. Across my neck. Everywhere.

I hid it from my mom and dad so they wouldn’t get worried.

The pain was excruciating. It burnt. Nobody even saw me.

I’d just lay there. Until someone found me. Someone who actually cared for me. Not a bully. Just a sweet nurse.

It was a typical recess, the bullies targeting me.

They were big, strong, and I was just a weak little baby bird, waiting to be able to fly, come out of the nest.

That punch in the gut was real pain. That's what it feels like.

You slowly fall to the grass, helpless, you just can’t get up.

The whistle is blown. They leave you. Stop punching you. Kicking you. Calling you names.

Nobody came. Nobody cared. I just belonged in the lost and found.

It was where I belonged. I was a nobody.

It just keeps on going. Every single day. They keep on punching you, kicking you. They enjoy it.

But they don’t realize what pain I’m in. It sucks, it really, really, sucks.

You hop back to the line, with one twisted ankle.

They leave. All of them. Nobody sees me. It's like I’m a ghost to them.

You hear the bell ring, still laying there, in the middle of the worn out soccer field.

The buses screch down below. You miss the bus. Finally you have the courage to get up.

You do, the scratches fold while you move, making it even more painful than it already is.

You try to keep yourself straight, but you can’t. You need to move.

The army crawled my way. Down to the school.

Your arms scuffed up from the concrete.

You struggle to get up, your scratches still fresh. They slowly fade away.

As you crawl into the office, they question why you're there.

You explain. They just say shake it off. Every time. I can’t though.

It's painful.

You wouldn't believe how many scars you actually have.

I’ve been through a lot. Broken arms. From the smallest of scars, to the ones that won’t ever go away.

It's like a mark in your life. When you got hurt. How painful it actually was.

Getting bullied just sucks. And nobody cares, or comes, or wants to be your friend.

You come home, trying to hide the scars, holding back those endless streams of tears.

When you enter the room, you let it all out. Your pillow shoved in your face, muffling the tears so nobody heard.

That's one of the worst feelings ever. Crying into your pillow so nobody heard you.

At night, it was worse. Your mom and dad slept, as you cried into your pillow, trying to hold back the tears.

They keep flowing down your face, making your pillow wetter and wetter.

By morning, it feels like it's been dunked into a pool. A pool full of tears.

The next day you go to school, the same thing happens. More scratches.

Sometimes broken bones. Them calling you names. It just goes on and on. They are big, mama bears, and I’m just a baby bird, trying to survive without a mom to feed her.

I'm just weak. I’ve got no strength. Zero. None. Uno. And the bullies, they’ve got strength.

You get beaten up. You're just weak. There's nothing you can do about it.

You just lay there, like an egg waiting to hatch. 

A few hours later, your shell starts to crack open. You see the light, as your eyes open after hours.

The sun burnt your beautiful skin. Turned red like blood. Sometimes you can't tell the difference.

The blood dries in the sun, making it appear as if you've been burned.

You touch it, then realizing that it's just dried blood.

The boiling sun beats down on you, making you sweat like crazy, barely able to move.

You crawl to the front of the school, but everybody has left. Your only choice is to walk home now.

The sun sets in the distance, making it harder and harder to see. Your house is still far away from where you are.

Eventually, you just give up. The next morning you magically wake up in your own bed.

It seems like magic, every time it happens.

I walk into the kitchen, noticing mom making some eggs and bacon.

“Morning mom.” I grumbled, stumbling to the couch.

“Morning sweetheart. I made your favorite, bacon and eggs!” She exclaimed.

“I'm not hungry. I just want to know how I got home.”

“Oh. Last night we couldn't find you, so we went exploring around the neighborhood.” Your mom explains.

“Where was I?” I asked.

“You were laying in someone's yard.” Mom explained.

You turn on the TV and the Saturday news comes on.

“We have some breaking news.” Says the weather man.]

“Ugh. What is it now?” I exclaim.

“There is a wildfire spreading, coming towards Elko Nevada.” The man explains.

“Mom?” I asked.

“Yeah sweetheart?” She questioned.

I was about to say something, when a video popped up on the TV screen.

It was of houses burning. 

“The fire is coming as fast as lightning towards Elko, Nevada.” The man on the news explains, as the video plays on and on.

“Mom?” I asked.

“Yeah sweetheart?” She answered.

“Is our house going to crash and burn?” The question is held in the air, no answer.

After a few seconds of silence Mom answered:

"Yeah. We have to leave tommorow." She explained.

"Oh." I said, wathcing the TV.

"Now come over here. I made your favorite!"

"I'm good." I explained.

The smell of smoke filled the air, making it harder to breath.

"Run!" Mom exclaimed.

The fires were in veiw in seconds, and we had no where to go.

The house was now on fire, the smell of smoke getting stronger and stronger. The wind was blowing, and eventually, I fell.

The fires were now in my reach.

I decided that I deserved to get burned.

The fire got closer and closer, now with me on fire.

I guess these were my last moments. Then, a hand grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me in.

It burnt. Just like the bullying. It was my mom though. And she was on fire.