She

“…And finally, with the highest mark in the class, as always – Mattia May Evans.” As she went up to collect her test, she hoped the floor would give way beneath her. As she got back to her desk, she looked down at her paper. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She thought about changing her score, but she couldn’t see how. Her parents were going to kill her. The teacher kept talking but she wasn’t paying attention. All she could think of was that 98%. She sunk lower and lower in her chair.

Teachers pet, goody to shoes, nerd. The words they call her shouldn’t hurt her. But they do. As she walks home, she sinks lower and lower. She tries to think of an excuse for her test score. She wonders if she could hide it. The more she thinks about it the more she’s certain there’s no way out. As she draws closer to her house, she braces herself for the blow, the blow she knows is coming.

The next day she came to school with a back eye. She had other bruises, but she made sure nobody saw them. She told the teacher she walked into a door. She normally covered her bruises with makeup. But she didn’t have time this morning. “Walked into a door did you.” The way they said it like they were better then everyone else. “I bet your parents hate you, so do us a favour and die.”

P.E was her least favourite subject. She got changed in the toilets and always wore leggings and jumpers. It was the only way to hide her bruises. She still hated the whole thing though. It gave the other kids the perfect opportunity to tease her and tell her she was fat.

Her teacher asked her to stay after school. “How would you like to take part in a competition for gifted and talented students,” she asked.                                                                                                                                                “I’m not sure,” she answered. She knew perfectly well that her mum wouldn’t let her.                            “Think about it,” she said.

Racing home so she wouldn’t be late, she tripped and fell. Chloe, Lucy, and Sara caught up with her taunting her for being so clumsy and stupid. By the time she got going again she was five minutes late. Her parents were going to kill her.

The next day she wasn’t at school.

When she finally came back, she was wearing a lot of makeup. She didn’t eat anything at lunch, instead she spent the hour in the toilets. They were dirty and stunk, but it was better than facing them.

The days came, the days went. She got thinner and thinner. Her grades got worst.

A couple of weeks later her teacher kept her back once more. The teacher asked if everything was O.K. Which it clearly wasn’t. She just smiled and nodded.

As time progressed, she got worse. Her world was dark and gloomy, but not as dark as the world inside her head.

Creep, ugly, disgusting, fat, thin, whatever she does she can’t please them. She can no longer please anyone. She can’t even please the voice in her head.

The days come the days go.

She gets older. She gets wiser. But she doesn’t get happier.

One cold day she found herself on a bridge. She asked herself what she was doing there. She turned and walked away. But she starts to wonder, whether it would be better for everyone involved if she hadn’t.   

Once she accidently cut herself. But it felt good. So, she did it again. Soon her wrists were covered with scratches and scars. She assumed nobody would notice. They never seemed to notice anything else about her life.

Yet somebody did. She didn’t know their name. But they noticed.

Soon she found herself in a small white room. There was one other bed. Although she didn’t notice there was also another girl. She felt trapped. She had no way of getting out.

The workers pulled her out of lunch. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t eating anyway. They took her to a small room. Her parents were there. She stopped. She wondered if they knew. They didn’t seem to. She no longer felt safe. They had a meeting about her. She didn’t listen. She just hoped that the nurses wouldn’t leave.

The next day they pulled her out of lunch again. They went to the same small room. This time on the other side of the table was a stranger. The stranger claimed to be a social worker. Apparently, they found evidence which suggests her parents were abusing her. She couldn’t speak. She had a lump in her throat. She had dreamed of this day for as long as she could remember. Now that is was finally here, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t speak.

Eventually, she formed words. She told them everything. Well everything she could remember.

A week later she got taken in the same small room. This time another stranger sat opposite her. A therapist, apparently. She refused to talk.

She would return to that room twice a week for the best part of a year. She didn’t know it then, but she would stay in that hospital for a long time. When everyone else went home for Christmas, she stayed. She didn’t have a family to go back to.

She slowly began to recover. As she got better, she started to wonder what would happen to her once she was fully recovered. She couldn’t go back to her family and she didn’t think she could face school.

Another social worker came to visit her. This time they brought Mr and Mrs Denavec. Her foster parents. She wasn’t sure if she trusted them or not. They seemed nice enough, but she had been fooled before.

That day she left the building without a nurse for the first time in two months. She went to the Denavec’s house.

Two years later she was fully discharged. She went to her house. Because it was her house too. And for the first time in her life, she had a place to call home.

That year on her birthday, the Denavec’s adopted her. When asked whether she wanted to change her name, she said yes. Because she was no longer Mattia May Evans. She was Mattia May Denavec.  And she stayed Mattia May Denavec until she was twenty-eight when, she walked down the aisle and changed her name once more.

For the first time in twenty-eight years, she was truly happy.