I run into the bathroom, black tears screaming across my face, gravity taken away. Peel them off! Says a voice, footsteps coming closer, peel them off!
“Peel them off you ugly wh*re! You little mouse dropping! You’re just like that idiot Goth girl that killed herself last year, trying to be like us. Ha!” voices at the locked door, banging fists, screaming at me.
“Peel them off! Go ahead, try!”
I cry, weep, but they won’t go away, they just won’t.
truth is, I didn’t put the nails on the be like them, I only put them on so that my real nails could grow out without me biting them, but of course the popular girls thought I was a poser.
I gasp in air, crying, but that’s it. No other noise, no other sound, only me weeping.
I put my ear up to the door, nothing. I look under the door, nothing. I open the lock and walk through the bathroom to the mirrors, nothing, but as soon as I get my reflection in view, something.
There is a redhead peering through the stall door and its plastic wall with black eyes and lips. Her hair is like fire, but her face as pale as you can get while living in California.
I scream and then the face is gone and girls are jumping off of the toilets and from behind the doors before I can utter a word. They scream cries of murder and hatred and then I’m down on the ground, screaming and bleeding as they rip off my fingernails and tear off my clothes, safety pins and cloth fly and pinch as they dig into my skin.