Blood pounds in my head so unrhythmically it starts to give me a headache. I feel my whole body go numb and my blood run unnaturally hot boiling my skin to the point of red blotches start to form. I bite my lip and the familiar taste of salt mixed with rusted metal touches my tongue leaving a small weaving red trail in its wake.
I can only look down at the piece of paper that I wrote all my anger, frustration, and lies on. When I threw it away I was hoping she would never see it. I never imagined she would go through the trash like a racoon to get it.
'Or did she?'
'Of course she did,' says a dull voice in my mind breaking the mental silence.
I bend over and pick it up. It was only one page, front and back. It was also one of the worst ones.I feel my mind start to posin in remembrance of the cruel but somewhat truthful thoughts that ran through my mind that day I wrote it.

Flash Back:

Anger, hurt, furry, depression, and confusion fills my body to a boil churning inside me like hells own pot of burned souls.
'Does she even know what she is doing?'
'No,' a dull voice says.
I feel bitter resentment towards not only the voice but myself for having it.
I look around the small classroom reminding myself not to have a mental breakdown. I made it through the whole day without an incident yet. Just a few panic attacks but I learned how to keep them down to a not-so-noticeable visible twitch.
I mentally frown at the fact showing true emotion seemed to be too a hard of a exploration for me to venture correctly.
I could hide my emotions so well that sometimes I don't even know I am doing it until someone points out that I look like I have an either dazed or bored expression on my face.
I look up to see Jake giving me a strange look.
I arrange my face into what felt like a sincere smile which he relays back to me and then continues to do his work.
I look down at the blank yellow paper before me and mentally sigh.
'Fine,' I mutter inwardly.
I grab a pencil and start to write.
Red fills my vision as my years of held back anger and fury are let loose.
Most would cry when letting so much out. But I only sit. Hunched over my paper, hair covering my expressionless face and dulled eyes.I have lost the ability to let my emotions out correctly and when people do around me I try to understand why they do so.
But here I was. Writing a paper. Throwing up the words I never would be able to say aloud to anyone. I worked through the lines on the pages. It felt horrible. Every word clawed at me leaving a mental scar I thought would close. They never did.
When I was done the bell rung leaving only an echo in its wake inside my empty, yet full, head. I shove the papers into my bag and give my teacher a smile and a wave that felt so fake I thought I would vomit on the spot.
I mentally reminded myself to throw away the papers as soon as I could.
Guess it wasn't soon enough since those papers stayed with me months and months until the one major person who wasn't supposed to see them did.

Present: (To be continued