6. Flame

There'd once been a spark. A spark of life that was so desperate to outlast the burning flames that surrounded it that it clutched onto one thing.

"Sweetheart, you're absolutely brilliant. I am so sorry about what is going to happen, but know that if I were alive that I would take care of you. Hold on, and one day it will be absolutely worth it."

And although many things attempted to extinguish this struggling flame, it burned strong; refusing to be beaten down by a few mindless insults.

"Face me, you foolish sop. How are you going to go to school if you can't even look me in the eye?"

Pathetic. Weak. Fat. Meaningless. Stupid. I knew it all. The spark that meant my life didn't understand though and refused to die down, refused to let me settle peacefully where all these idiots could never hurt me again. Where I'd be the one and only; where I'd belong and be happy.

Humans are supposed to be creatures that craved love and affection. But what they especially needed was a group of other fools to be there with them. Honestly, I was quite a solitary person; I would prefer sitting by myself as opposed to sitting next to a gibbering person who thought that every silence was an awkward one.

Every day, my body endured school and my mind endured the dimwits that surrounded me. Oh, I'd tried to be on equal fitting with them but all they did was embarrass and shun me and thus I had the full right to assume that I was highly superior to them all.

That's what kept the spark going. Inside, I knew it wasn't true. How could it be? Although I had my intellect, it wouldn't always be so sharp and there was always someone else who was more intelligent. My lack of beauty wasn't even worth mentioning and my personality didn't exist. I'd end up snapping at a lot of people; just killing the mood, ruining the friendship, the end.

Honestly, it'd be so easy to blame my mother for this. Blame her for not taking care of herself and getting cancer. For dying when I was only a mere age of five. You can't blame the dead however, and that was proven quite obviously.

The teachers pitied me as did the family I lived with. Sympathetic, they called themselves. You know what word lies within that? Pathetic. If that wasn't foreshadowing of their emotions, I don't know what was.

I held on through thick and thin. When the kids chucked my backpack into the pool, ruining my books - oh only then did the spark start getting dimmer. And then it brightened imperceptibly, my anger marching through my veins and calling for the torture of the children. After I'd gone in to get the books, the hollow hole within my empty, empty chest became prominent and for the first time in  many years, I sat down and cried. And just kept on sobbing, until a few hours had passed and a shadow passed ominously above me.

Snapping my head up, I gazed suspiciously at the young man that smiled bemusedly at me but that smile faltered uncertainly as he witnessed the tear tracks still streaming down my face, and my red eyes.

"Are you okay?" And with those three words, I turned and fled, stifling my choking tears in my arm. Keeping it all bundled up for those years hadn't been good, and the result was naturally seen. No, I'd done the right thing by keeping them bottled. If I put it off as if I was emotionless, nobody would ever be able to hurt me. Not now, not ever.

"Where have you been?!" My grandmother yelped, swinging out at me. I flinched and her hand stopped five millimetres from my face. Breathing in relief, I gave my horrid excuses and pardoned myself into my room. There I stared at my clock for half an hour, before retrieving all the books from my bag and setting them down carefully, making sure that the first few pages were separated. I'd have to keep a close eye on it just in case the barely working heater in my room decided to pop up to full blast and incinerate my books. And if that ever happened, I would never forgive myself. I rubbed my hands over the heater as well as letting the books dry in front of it. Warmth prickled through my skin, making me shiver in shuddering delight as I slid against the wall, and rested my head on my hand.

The flame was burning steady, starting to get stronger and more vivid. It was going to take me through the rest of my life, mum had said and we'd see if that was true.

That night, I packed my books away glumly noting the wetness of their backs. Tucking myself comfortably onto the bed that resembled a chest with a thin mattress draped across it, I pulled it up over my head, letting my breath heat up my body. After a while, I scrambled up again and attempted to go to sleep but the flame tugged at me. Something was going to happen, something that wasn't going to be pretty. But was it ever?

I cuddled my knees, bringing them up to touch my chest as I saw a dark shadow creep stealthily across the floor. Hearing slight giggles, I immediately recognized them as my cousins who'd absolutely despised me; in fact, blaming me for mum's death. I turned, making sure that my face was inaccessible for them to graffiti in their moments of brilliance.

No, they didn't even spare a glance at me. Instead they went to my pile of books, you could hear them cautiously creeping around the house, snickering at the condition that I was living in. Seeing the books, they all yelped in victory, picking two each and burning some, whilst throwing others out of the window.

My fists were clenched. My teeth were gritted and my whole body shook with the frustration and anger that filled me with the sight that befell me as I sprang out of bed.

They all jumped back, screaming and whimpering as I advanced towards them. And finally my spark went out.

Without my books, I'd realised - what was the point of remaining on this corrupt world? There was nowhere to escape to, nowhere to cry and roar at, and definitely nothing to just smell. There was nothing I could do about retrieving my little treasures; and without them I didn't want to live.

It was obvious as to what had to be done. The flame had gone out in a flash, and now my life needed to reflect the actions.

I haven't edited. It's an hour to midnight, I just finished my German and wrote this. Hope it's alright. Apologies for the cynicism.
Allons-y!