How to Kill a Girl

Everyone told me that high school is the best place and time of your life. You get to expand, reach for your dreams and plan for college. But, they didn't see the secrets floating through the halls, could they even smell the decaying souls and broken hearts? No, they couldn't. It was high school that nearly drove me over the edge; it shattered my spirit and left me to die like those other forgotten souls.1

And it all started in a certain class room. The class I took was Enriched Patterns, EP for short. Or nicknamed by me "Classroom of Hell". Tells you my outlook already.2

It was the first day of tenth grade. I sat near the front with a beaming smile; those were the days where I could manage a true grin. Not the fake ones I use all the time. 3

Mr. M'Kliny walked into the room, his back straight as a ruler and dark eyes that suggested impending damnation. He messily scrawled his name on the board and spun around to glare at the students. I was one of the lucky front row students. He turned his sharp eyes at me, glared through my soul and loudly asked me.4

"Girl, what's your dream?" It wasn't a happy question; every word from his lips shot through me, waking me up that I was no longer a little freshman. I had joined the world of older students. 5

"Uh-h. I want to become a journalist." I managed to mumble out, my face was burning. His stare seemed to never waver. I glanced up and his face had turned even grimmer. His jaws had tightened and he began to glower at me.6

"Do you know the percentage of women or men who become journalists?" Mr. M'Kliny snapped at me.7

"No-o." There was the damn stutter. Already, not a mere five minutes into his class and my confidence had been shaken.8

He turned to face the class. "This girl thinks she can make it into the world as a journalist. She thinks she can beat the odds and succeed where millions have failed." And guess what he did, he laughed. A cold, unencouraging laugh that shook the room. My mouth dropped open in shock. Teachers were supposed to encourage students, not ruin their dreams. Right? It turns out Mr. M’Kliny’s speech wasn't over. For the next five minutes we silently listened to him tell us that we needed to choose more "reachable" goals. And mine wasn't? 9

I slowly began to burn up, my face grew red and I tried to think happy thoughts. But they wouldn't come, you know what came to mind. Him hanging, and a cold, infurating anger slowly seeped into my soul. The calmness that used to reside in my heart was gone, and now anger filled it up. Ba-dump, ba-dump, was my war cry as I scowled at him. 10

The most shocking thing was that he looked at us and said, "Now that we have gotten that out of our way, our first unit is writing a paper on what is our dream job and house. Everything must be realistic; I will take no fake dreams or unreachable dreams." A feeling that was unlike any others bubbled in my chest. Hate. I despised this man, who was he to judge us?11

Handing out our papers and other introducing packets we needed on the first day of class was how we ended first period. We exited with the simple job of thinking of a realistic job for us. 12

I passed through the day and complained to my fellow friends. Most comforted me; others laughed and told me a journalist wasn't a really "reachable" goal for me. My language arts grade was always barely struggling over an A and I had utterly no guts to do anything. I guess a journalist was a stupid job for someone like me. The burning hate slowly dissolved as I began to realize how right he was and how wrong I had been. How could I have hated a teacher who willingly put me back onto the path of good education?13

And little by little Mr. M'Kliny's comments got through my angry emotions. My friend’s remarks and little jokes added to Mr. M'Kinly's comments. Over a period of one week my dream of becoming a journalist was crushed and thrown into the trash.14

The year wore on, as predicted my language arts grade was an A minus for most of the time. My writing lacked feeling and grammar. Mr. M'Kliny even wrote that, "See Victoria, being a journalist isn't your true calling. I'm glad that you have gotten over that silly fantasy and have stepped into the shoes of an adult." And, I didn't shake in anger or scream at the piece of paper. I just stared, lifelessly at the thin sheet of paper and tucked it into my folder. The big B+ written in red glared back at me before I quickly shut the folder.15

Now I began to live in the limitations others set for me. My mother complained to me that my grades weren't high enough. I stayed up almost every night trying to reach the bar my mother had set for me. Dark circles made their way under my eyes and I fell asleep almost twice a week. I no longer had any emotions to keep my going, no happyness to make me want to stay awake, no raw anger burning at me to pay attention and criticise the person who I despised. All that was left was a cold, sinking feeling.16

Staying up every night affected my sports effort. I was told by my running coach that my mile had increased under what her expectations of me were. And I was to get my butt back into gear or be dropped from the Track team. Great support. I soon dropped out. 17

I never noticed that these comments ate away at my being, my heart. Following their standards had taken up most of my time that I was no longer the girl I had once been.18

Friends began to take over and control my life. Like I was a dumb idiot or something. They used me; I helped them gain power over the tenth graders of our school. Not a day went by when we didn't mock another girl or guy. We made fun of them for thing like finishing at twenty minutes on the mile run. I always pretended to think like they did; to not see the horrified glares of others and the heartwrenching looks from the victims. I was too far under to be saved.19

The last three weeks of school were Hell. Ending grades, cleaning lockers, all that stuff had gotten me into frenzy.20

Unknown feelings and hatred arose in my group of friends and more than once was I stuck in the crossfire. Their spitting comments sometimes involved me as I tried to peacefully end all of this nonsence, when I really just wanted to end my existance. 21

But, school continued and my life, my horrible, dying life still lived on. Who knew that if you forgot one science lab your grade dropped a whole five percent? My mother had added to the crazyness by expecting all As on my report card. That stupid letter seemed to infuence and drive my life. Going to the bathroom to clear my head I glanced into the mirror. 22

My once long locks of golden hair was now streaked with dark brown and hidden under a layer of grease. Dark brown eyes were circled with small dark rings; I was now pale from staying inside. I stared shocked at my appearance; this was a simple shadow of who I was! This was NOT Victoria Swanson. 23

I reached up and touched the mirror, trying to dig behind the frozen face and to the emotions locked up. My fingers turned white under the strain I was putting onto them. I couldn’t stand the look of sickness my face held. Screaming I grabbed my purse and stormed out the bathroom, forgetting the reason why I had even gone there.24

Every time I looked into a mirror I had to grimace. Emotions were surfacing and now I didn’t like it. I lost control over myself. More than once I had snapped and punched my mirror; my pillow at night was often beat into a pulp from my emotions that wouldn't stay hidden. I often cursed my lack of keeping a straight poker face and I slowly crumbled under the stress. Some mornings, I just didn't want to get up and I lay there until the light blinded my eyes and I forced myself to go on. 25

“Victoria Swanson! Why did you push your little brother down the stairs?” My mother yelled at me, her face was turning bright red from trying to control her anger. I shrugged with the same impassive look on my face.26

“I don’t know Mom.” I retorted. A small voice spoke in the back of my mind; she doesn’t get all red in the face when you get hurt. That thought hurt; it cut a raw line in my heart. 27

I turned around and slammed my door, hoping to stifle the little voice as it fed me lies. I was going insane. The mirror in my room was reduced to a pile of shards. My fist had slammed into it on a day I couldn’t stand my appearance. 28

New scars appeared on my heart, they cut deeper than the first comment that Mr. M’Kliny had made. These burned, and while they burned the voice filled me with lies and tales. Waiting for me to burst. 29

Feelings resurfaced and made me lose everything. No one would dare to venture near my room anymore. A once clean room was now in ruins. I couldn’t stand the perfection; it was too neat and too clean. Everything I saw that was perfect I had to ruin. It was my way to vent; I had waited a whole year to vent out everything. And the dam broke.30

My mother and brother were out on his Cub Scouts Award Ceremony and I was left at home. I don’t know what started it, maybe the fact I was reading my old diary entries from earlier the year that set me off.31

I began to cry, a little tear that trickled down my cheek. Wiping it away I was shocked to see the tears. Soon I exploded; sobs shook my whole frame and made me weak within moments. Clutching my shaking chest I managed to cry out.32

“I’m sorry!” There so many words to add but the tears reduced me into a child. Tears rolled down my pale face, my nose leaked and I was curled in a ball. My body trembled as I hid my head under my hands and wept.33

“Do you still love me? Can I come home?” So many apologies tumbled out from me that moment. Closing my eyes I just let go, the flood gushed out of me for some time. I was way past due the time for me to cry. 34

After my cries halted I flipped through my diary. I saw the girl I was in the beginning of the year and what I had turned into. This all seemed too funny. That’s how my brother found me, on the ground laughing at my pitiful self. 35

He ran down stairs to my mother, leaving me sitting there with a dazed look on my red face. This is what I have become. 36

I had become a stone, no dreams to believe in, no family to rely on, and no friend to bring me back up. Hollow. 37

I can’t tell you what happened after I suddenly realized the “error of my ways”. But, I can tell you this. A person is nothing without their dreams. The poorest man is not without a cent, but without a dream. To measure a dream and call it "unrealistic" is one way to kill dreams. And I leave you here. This is my story, what I learned and lived through, millions of others have lived through this same fate.

Author notes

Oh good God, this is not the best story I have written... It was hard to get a lot of emotion into it. It was inspired from how so many feel in high school.

I'm not sure if this is what you want. Victoria isn't a real "social misfit" but her family isn't too close to her.

*CONTEST RULE THINGIES!*

My favorite 'cause I like how I wrote it and I thought it showed that high school isn't all pop and fun.

DEDICATED: All the girls going through high school. There is a light at the end of the tunnel!

Hope you like it! But tell me if you do or don't! I love hearing from everyone!

Edited - 3/25/08

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Like it? Hate it? Tell me WHY!!!!

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    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
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Comments

1 - 38 of 38

  • Naive.
    June 27, 2008

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    Great write. The emotion felt so real, and this was a believable portrayal of how miserable high school can make people. I like how this is the TRUTH about high school and shows the difficulties of life during HS years. Beautifully written.

    Thanks for entering my contest and good luck!

    -jj


  • Oddems.
    June 24, 2008

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    I loved it, you showed the raw emotion and I felt every feeling Victoria was going through. You wrote it spectacularly!

    beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.


  • J0yce
    April 4, 2008

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    Captivating

    I felt like I was there. Torn to pieces by Victoria's pain at the end. I must say, it mirrored my own. Anyway, not here to talk about me. I really think you hit the nail on the head, describing the experience. the beginning, it is like a good thesis! The middle left nothing to be desired, and the end, was, unexpected. It gives a sense of "everything will be okay," when usually, in my experience, these stories tend to end with heartbreak and gore. I think it has just the right amount of development mixed with plot, mixed with personal sounding experiences. again, I truly enjoyed it.


  • AugustDaylight
    March 26, 2008

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    The first paragraph really sets the story. Very nice.

    This is very nicely written, and definitely portays the hell that highschoolers go through.

    Good write.
    Thanks for entering


  • Immortal Obscurity silver member
    February 24, 2008
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    I do like it, because Victoria's situation is not uncommon. The write itself actually reminded me of a quote that I like: "Never laugh at someone's dreams. If you don't have dreams, then you don't have much."

    In high school, I wanted to write, but people in my life discouraged it. They said things like, "you're being antisocial! Stop writing and start living! Look at [insert athlete here]! That's what you should be'. But instead of going with the grain, I ignored all the naysayers and am proudly unconventional

    In my head, I freaked out at that damn teacher for telling Victoria that her dreams were unrealistic. Obviously, this guy was never encouraged by his own parents, so he had to push his beliefs onto everyone else... I hate when people shove their personal beliefs down society's collective throat.

    ...*cough cough* I noticed that I've gone off on a bit of a tangent here, but I needed to get that off my chest. Your story spoke to me, and it obviously won 4 trophies for a reason. Well done, indeed, my friend... My hat is off to you!

    Laura xxx

    • perfect paradox
      February 24, 2008

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      Thank you very much! Go you for standing up for yourself and not allowing them to tear you down!

      This story seems to relate to very many people, and I'm glad!

      Thank you for commenting and talking about your own story!

      • Immortal Obscurity silver member
        February 27, 2008

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        You're welcome... A great story you've written, and the fact that people can relate to it this way is just a testament to your skill as a writer. Brava!


  • B Chandler Greeters member
    February 16, 2008

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    In a wierd kind of way I like how the scenerio (sorry if misspelled) is set because it gives the reader the opportunity to try to figure out what's going to happen next even though the answer is present....

    Kudos for this write


    • perfect paradox
      February 16, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you! Ooh, so close. Its scenario. *snaps fingers*

      Thank you for reading and responding!


  • Kari gold member
    February 8, 2008
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    Wow, you did good. I'll be commenting more after the contest. I wish you the best of luck in it!


  • I Dare to Dream
    January 13, 2008

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    I love it, because of how real this is. The way you wrote it, was so brilliant, and it goes right to the core. Your wording was perfect, the lesson in it fantastic.

    Good luck!


  • Prodigious.Mirth
    January 9, 2008

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    well by far this was interstingly like my life in many ways.. I mean relating to highschool for the past three years of my life, as pretty much a lost soul

    good luck

    Blair ! ~ loved this


  • ScarsNDepth
    January 8, 2008

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    I loved this piece! you have no idea how much I related to it. I'm a senior in high school and I feel the EXACT way the girl in the story does. This is like the story of my life at this point. You have no idea how much I thank you for writing this piece. I really wish you luck in this contest


  • eyeambaldman
    January 6, 2008

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    This was a pretty good piece of writing. You did leave out a few words which Geri has covered well below. I love the title, that's what drew me to this story in the first place.

    Now, I would to like to see a different ending here. You kind of leave us hanging on whether or not this girl pulls through--or perhaps she doesn't, hence the name of the story.

    I think a few more examples of how this girl has been beaten down by life will cerainly strengthen it.

    Nice work!

    • perfect paradox
      January 6, 2008
      Edit | Reply

      Thank you!

      I'll edit soon to catch my other mistakes. I'm glad you liked the title too.

      I wanted the ending leave you in positive thoughts and sort of to say "this is the story of my life and it isn't over".

      Thank you for you comment and your honest opinion!


  • whichcraft Greeters member
    January 1, 2008

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    I was taken aback by the title until I read on and found it not to be the sort of story I thought it was. You have a well defined character who you have shown to break down from the beginning of the story to the end. You have suporting characters who were involved in her downfall and you make the reader care about her.

    You have a setting and inner conflict from the character and is able to show her struggle as well as a plot, which I find that some stories forget to include. You have a beginning, a conflict, a resolution and an end to your story.

    It's good to see that you stuck with the short story guideline and produced an interesting work.


    • perfect paradox
      January 2, 2008
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      What did you think the story was going to be about?

      Thank you! I'm glad that I met your requirements!


  • gerifitzsimmons Greeters member
    December 29, 2007

    Edit | Reply

    Neither like or hate comments--grin. Just somethings you might consider.

    I think that title is great. Neither like or hate comments--grin. Just somethings you might consider.

    Your opening immediately set the plot of the story; we knew we were in a young girl’s mind and taking a journey with her though those revered halls of learning.

    "Girl, what's your dream?" It wasn't a happy question; every word from his lips shot through me, (and me. I heard those same words from a couple miserable old prunes of Nuns—sigh.)

    "Uh-h. I want to become a journalist." I managed to mumble out, face burning because I had stuttered and his stare. ? I would rewrite this for clarity. ("Uh-h. I want to become a journalist," I managed to mumble. Because of his stare my face was burning and I stuttered. )

    The last three weeks of school were Hell. Ending grades, cleaning lockers, all that stuff had gotten me into frenzy. Going to the bathroom to clear my head I glanced into the mirror. ( JMHO but all of the things told by the young lady would have been more interesting if shown to the reader by the characters . Acting out scenes can make them feel real.)

    “Victoria Swanson! Why did you push your little brother down the stairs?” My mother yelled at me, her face was turning bright red from trying to control her anger. I shrugged with the same impassive look on my face. (This is much better.)

    My mother and brother were out on his Cub Scouts Award Ceremony and I was left a (at) home.

    This all seemed to (too) funny.

    To measure a dream and call it "unrealistic" (is) one way to kill dreams. (great ending—while the reader is not certain what has become of the heroine, they are aware what has happened to her because of a thoughtless statement.)

    I love the ideas behind the story, the writing flows smoothly, but I would like to ‘See’ more action.

    Geri

    beginning: 4, language: 3, plot: 4, ending: 4, characters: 2.

    • perfect paradox
      December 29, 2007
      Edit | Reply

      Thank you!

      Thank you for your comment! I'll go back and make the edits and thanks for pointing them out! I shall add some more "see" into it once I have the chance!

      Thank you for your honest comment and finding my mistakes!


  • StarIlluminated
    December 29, 2007

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    Amazing

    This writing is great! It's so amazing to think about how people actually go through this kind of thing. It's also amazing about how you were able to write this when it didn't happen to you, because you made it sound so real. Keep writing this was amazing!


    • perfect paradox
      December 29, 2007
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      Thank you!

      Thank you for your support and comment! I'm glad you liked it!


  • Hermanator1 silver member
    December 22, 2007

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    Great read

    Wow, I didn't realize I came off as such a dictator. The word count was "ball park" amounts to help control the contest. It is not quite on target yet it is perfectly on target. I had anticipated another theme but like what you submitted. I am moving it to the finalist group and will further analyze it there. Don't lose your "own dream" you are a good writer and will have a lot of positive impact with your material if you continue to look inside individuals as you have.

    beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.

    • perfect paradox
      December 22, 2007
      Edit | Reply
      Oh! Well, the word count did help do I didn't go overboard and start typing things like, "and she walked. She walked to her locker. She..."
      Thank you for your comment! I didn't really know what to write and this story sort of came out. :3 Thank you for encouraging me and making this contest!


  • DarkOneShadow
    December 21, 2007

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    Man, this brought back alot of memories

    This is truly a work of art and has people seeing the darker side of high school. It shows that crueler side of it where they think that they know best. Yeah, I've been there when my friends or my elders told me that I couldn't do something. Eventually, I got enough backbone to let me live my own life and I am happier than I have been in years. It takes a lot of courage to face up to what you have become by what you do and what influences you. Here's to having the backbone to throw away everyone's opinion and sticking to your own. Cheers!

    DarkOne

    • Hermanator1 silver member
      December 22, 2007
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      Damn rules

      I tried to give you bonus points for the comments you gave to a writer in my contest. Rules say no!
      Kudos anyway for the comments you give others.

    • perfect paradox
      December 21, 2007
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      Thank you! I only knew a little on what kind of teachers someone would face in high school but I'm glad I sort of pulled it off! Thank you for you comment! I'm glad you lived through it with your skin intact!

      :3 *cheers*


  • Holey Pastry
    December 20, 2007
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    Hey, that's really good, saying you're not even in highschool yet...
    I am in 10 grade and wow...this surprised me on how true it is to some people. I see people who were amazing and fun their freshman year then become harsh and cruel people their sophomore year...
    Excellent job! Though you say it's not your best...

    • perfect paradox
      December 20, 2007
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      :3 Thankies! I was thinking that my Junior High expirences aren't quite mean enough so I chose high school. Kelly said Enriched Patterns was her boringest class.

      Thank you once again! ((Hey, you didn't read any of my other recent ones so I could have better!))

      • Holey Pastry
        December 20, 2007

        Edit | Reply
        True true...I'll do that tomorrow...I've got nothing to do tomorrow while I'm stuck here with Doug and Dad's at work...yup. That's what I'll do! Thanks for the idea, you're a genious! Haha

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