The pain hit a huge wave, rolling over her, again and again. She made a quick excuse to her family, got up from the table, and stumbled to her room. Collapsed on the bed. Cured into a ball. Whimpered; this all-consuming pain hurts so badly. She hates it, this pain that blacks out everything else, and rips her by the seams. It consumes her when she least expects it, and she can do nothing to keep herself away from it.

The pain started showing up a couple of months ago, after an odd time in her life. Her friends completely ignored her, that's what she expects started it. They told her they never wanted to see her again. They insulted her whenever they could. Nasty words thrown at her face, time and time again. Finally she gave up and she was all alone. Alone. For months. Every night she sat in her room. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she stared at the wall for hours. Her journal filled up with dark words, sad words, growing increasingly desperate. She began to feel as if there was a hole in her. And the black hole started to devour her, piece by piece. Until she felt like a ghost. Floating through life.

Yes, the pain was consuming her. She cried, tears burning her face, throat burning. She pulled out her journal, her friend, her confidante, the only one who knew how she felt. She wrote. "Someone save me. Make the pain stop. Take the hole away. I can't do this anymore. Someone save me. Now. Or else, I won't make it. Please, I feel so black. Someone. Someone show me some light. I haven't felt happiness in months. How long has it been since I smiled? But does anyone notice? No. Someone, care! Save me, save me, save me. I'm dying. My dreams make me sick. My thoughts are an ongoing horror movie. Sometimes I don't understand why I go on at all. Someone, please, please save me, save me, save me. Before it's too late." Her hands shook as she wrote out her pleas.

Then, a surprise. Her mother walked into the room. Seeing the tears on her daughter's cheeks, she asked, "Oh, baby, what's wrong?"

She answered, "I'm just...it's just...I'm really lonely."

Her mom smiled, an I-got-this smile. "Oh, honey. Just talk to some new people. There's lots of nice people in your school. I gotta go fold laundry. Love ya, sweetie.You'll do just fine." Her mom exited the room.

She watched, slack-jawed, as her mom closed the door. More tears. It felt like her mom's words had pierced a hole in her heart. Even my mom doesn't understand, she thought. She collapsed on her bed. No one cared enough to listen to her. No one thought about her for one minute, she guessed. I don't exist, she thought. I'm nobody. And she did feel like nobody at that moment. She was floating in misery. She had never felt worse in her life.

The thought crossed her mind that no one would ever understand her. Everybody would always hate her. No one would ever care enough to see that she was dying slowly, with every minute, with every insult thrown in her face. And she couldn't deal with that. Couldn't hardly comprehend it. No. Someday I will have another friend. She hoped that desperately. Someone would show up; they must. And soon. Or it really would be the end. The end of her life. Her last resort. She couldn't really do it, could she? But if things didn't get better, and fast, she knew she would be able to it. And the thought of that scared her. So someone save me, she thought. "Please," she whispered into her pillow. And again. And again. Begging for someone to talk to. Or, as she said it, to save her.

Learn more about this author, Hannah Niemeier.
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