In the morning, Rhiannon didn't rush to get ready. She never did anymore. She stopped caring about what she looked like. She'd throw on an old T-shirt and pants, then brush her stick-straight hair. The only thing important to her was bracing herself for the day she had to endure. She stopped hoping that maybe, just maybe the endless cruelty would stop. That was just an unreachable dream, the absolute impossible. It wasn't like she'd ever be able to catch a break. Any girl who committed such an awful crime against nature and liked other girls instead of boys just didn't deserve to.

    Another "Are  you okay, sweetheart?" was asked by her concerned mom, with the same "Yeah, I'm absolutely fine, I promise." were exchanged before she headed out the door, to her own personal doom. No, things weren't okay. What was okay anymore, anyway? Her life was at an all time low, but her mother didn't need to know that. Rhiannon could handle everything on her own. She was strong enough to. The shaking hands and huge lump in her throat said otherwise. She wasn't strong enough. She was weak, frightened, afraid.

    At school, it was nothing but worse than ever. She was pushed into lockers, had her hair pulled, she was spat on. She was lower than ever, and it was never going to change for the better. Anyone who wasn't abusing her physically was doing something worse- ignoring her. She was falling and nobody was helping her up. To some people she was now nonexistent. Worthless. She didn't deserve help, she didn't need any sort of attention. That's the way it should be for revolting gay people like her.

School ended, just like a regular day. People walked out in groups, laughing and smiling. They paid no attention to the young girl dying inside. The girl who needed so much help, but couldn't say a thing. Who would help her? Why would anyone care, when everyone hated her so much? There was nobody to turn to, nobody to pull her out of the deep rut she was in.

    All by her lonesome at home again, which was the last thing Rhiannon needed. She needed someone to hold her and tell her it would be alright. That she was perfect and soon enough, everyone that hurt her would stop. That everything would be back to normal. She needed comfort and closure. She longed for touch of her mother, that was so alien to her these days. But she wasn't getting it any time soon.