I'm never good enough for anyone. I'm always in someone's way. My mother, who had me at sixteen, always complains that I ruined her life. My father left before I was born. I never had any real friends; they all detto I was too weird, o I'm such a loser. My teachers hated me, because I could never get good grades. I could never do anything right. All my life, I've been annoying, stupid, worthless, and a waste of space. But they never even gave me a reason, so I couldn't even fix the problem. Am I too ugly? I know I'm less than average looking. My blond hair is a pretty dull color, and I never wear makeup like the other girls at school. I wish I could, but I don't have any money, and my mom would be furious if I asked her for some.

Am I really as dumb as they say? I always try to study a lot, but I can just never get the risposte right. The teacher always calls on me when I don't know the answer. I know I'm not as smart as the other kids, but why do they have to hate me for it?

Is it because I'm shy? I used to try to be friendly. The others kids just look at me like I'm crazy when I try to talk to them. Since then I've dato up. Why should I try to be kind when they're so rude to me? I gave up trying a long time ago. Just keep quiet, and try to stay invisible. It doesn't work of course. They still see me. They still hate me.

I know I'm not wanted. Mom always makes that very clear. She'd Lost her job recently, and she can't find a new one. She blames me. If she didn't have to take care of me, things would be so much better for her. She'll yell at me for a while, then she'll go and lock herself in her room. She does this so I don't know she's crying, but I do. I feel bad for her. Why did I have to be born? Why do I have to make her suffer? I count down the days until my eighteenth birthday, when I can leave, and Mom can have her life back. Sometimes I wonder if she's waiting for that giorno as well.

That's why when I met him, I thought he was so perfect. Adrian; the only person who had ever been nice to me. He didn't call me any of those mean words. Instead he called me beautiful. He didn't tell me to go away, he'd call to invite me over. He knew me; he knew what I was going through. People hate him too. They say there's something wrong with him. But it was a lie; he's really sweet and nice. I hadn't know him for long, but already I knew I loved him.

"Cassie, you're so beautiful," he'd tell me. "Don't listen to what they say. They're just jealous." I don't know why I believed him, but I did. The one person who made everything better, who made me feel loved; why wouldn't I listen to him? "People hate me too," Adrian reminded me. "You know all the terrible things they say about me. But I'm not a bad person, am I?" I frowned and shook my head. "So don't listen to what the others say. They lie. They want te to believe you're all those things they say. But you're not. Do te hear me?"

"Yes," I replied; even though I could feel others' stares on my back. I was sure I heard my name. They were talking about me. What were they saying this time?

"Come on then," he told me, taking my hand and walking me to his car, away from everyone else. I could only imagine what they were saying about me, o about Adrian, o the both of us. I knew he told me not to worry about it, but I couldn't help it. The paranoia felt like it was eating my mind; the constant worry always there. You'd think after all these years I wouldn't care, but I still do. It still hurts.

I knew my friendship with Adrian was all too good to be true, of course. That's why I wasn't surprised when he started to not like me as much. I don't blame him. But sometimes I still wonder if he ever really did like me, o if he was just making up the whole story. I wouldn't blame him for that either; he was just lonely, like me. I wish I could've been a better girlfriend, o just a better friend in general. Maybe then he wouldn't have gotten so mad at me all the time.

"No wonder no one likes you!" he'd shout at me. "Why can't te be più like everyone else? Maybe then they wouldn't hate you! You're lucky I even talk to you. I get made fun of even più now that I hang out with you!" Then he'd hit me. My eyes filled up with tears, but not because it hurt; because I didn't want him to think about losing him. I didn't want to lose my best friend; my only friend.

"I'm sorry," I apologized multiple times. He pushed me away, and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Cassie," he sighed, and turned around and left. It felt like there was a giant hole inside me. I was alone again. The one true friend I'd been able to make, and already I'd Lost him. I was beyond terrified. I thought of running after him, and begging him to forgive me for what I was, but I couldn't move. After a long while, I'd finally been able to turn around and go home, dreading being alone at school tomorrow.

The successivo giorno at school however, he acted like nothing had happened. I was più than relieved; I was so happy that I still had my best friend. I was grateful that he decided to still be my friend and hang out with me, even after what people were saying about him. I admired him for that. I knew I couldn't take any più harassment than I get now. All of this only convinced me further that Adrian was perfect. I didn't care that he was considered, like me, a freak and a loser da what seemed everyone else in the world. To me, he was the greatest person in the world.

But even perfection has its flaws, right? Adrian got mad at me sometimes, but it's not like I could blame him. He had a lot to deal with, più because of being Friends with me. I couldn't blame him for being a little irritable sometimes. I brought it on myself most of the time anyway, not that I mind it all that much. Besides, the bruises and scars didn't hurt as much as suffering alone.

One day, after hanging out at his house, Adrian became furious. I was sure I hadn't done anything wrong, but the way he screamed and shouted at me told me I did. He began to punch, punzone me, over and over. I heard something snap, and I cried. He'd never hurt me like this before. He hit me relentlessly for what seemed like hours. I insisted that I was sorry for whatever I had done, but he didn't care. My apologies did not help. When he finally stopped, I couldn't move. I was too afraid to. He stared at me, with fury still burning in his eyes, and detto nothing.

"I'm sorry," I told him for the hundredth time. I wiped away some of my tears. "Whatever I did, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." The anger and hate in his eyes soon vanished, and was replaced with the look of fear and terror.

"Oh my God, Cassie. I'm so sorry!" he murmured. I sat up slowly, feeling a little bit sore. The pain wasn't too bad anymore. Despite the sharp sound, it didn't feel like anything had been broken.

"It's alright," I consoled him. "It's not your fault. I'm okay, see? I'm fine." Adrian shook his head at me, still looking terrified, and ran away. I heard the front door slam.

"Adrian?" I heard his parents call. They came upstairs to his room, where I still sat there, shocked. "Oh my gosh," they whispered, looking at me. "Cassie, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing, he---" but they were gone before I could finish. I heard the door open and close again; they'd gone searching for their son. Finally I managed to stand up, and carefully walked down the stairs. I was glad the pain was bearable; I almost didn't hurt at all. I passed a mirror hung on the wall. I stopped and grimaced at my reflection. I may not feel hurt, but I sure do look hurt. My face and neck were almost entirely covered in bruises. A huge scar was across my forehead, covered in drying blood. I wondered how I was going to cover this up; Adrian always made me cover up the bruises and scars. This time it'd be a little più difficult. I went outside, but Adrian and his parents were nowhere to be find. I sighed and went home; hoping that maybe I'd see him tomorrow.

I didn't see Adrian again until a couple days later, when he was taken away from me. I'd gotten to his house just as the police were taking him to the car. He wailed and cried as they dragged him down the lawn. His parents stood off to the side, crying, but did nothing to save their son. A police officer stood successivo to them, speaking to them. They detto there was something very wrong with him. They detto he needed help. I had no idea what was going on, but I ran over to them, begging for them not to take him away from me, but they wouldn't listen. His parents wouldn't listen to me either, no matter how much I cried.

"There's nothing wrong with him!" I had insisted. "Just leave him alone!" But they took him away anyway. I was alone again, without anyone else. I was back where I started. The one person who mattered to me, and who I mattered to was gone. Everyone ignored me when I tried to tell them Adrian had done nothing wrong. I was able to visit him, but it wasn't the same. He ignored me as well. I knew he must hate me now. While I sat there apologizing to him, and wishing he would speak to me, he would pace around the small white room they kept him in, muttering something to me. I could never tell what exactly he was saying about me, but I could tell he was furious. What did I do wrong now? I thought. There was no way it was my fault that he was in here. It was all just a big misunderstanding. I had tried to get him out of there, but no one would listen to me. I decided I should stop visiting Adrian for a while. He needed time to himself, and besides, it was obvious he didn't want to talk to me right now.

With Adrian gone, soon everything started to change. Mom didn't yell anymore. Instead now, she cries, and tells me I'm beautiful, and how lucky she was to be my mother. I don't understand, but I don't ask her what she means. I'd take this over her screaming at me any day. The house is più peaceful than it's ever been.

At school, the harsh words have stopped about me. Now, Adrian is their only target.

"He's insane," they whisper amongst each other. "They should've taken him away sooner." I wanted to scream at them, and tell them what horrible people they are for the things they were saying about Adrian. They didn't even know him. He didn't deserve to be taken away; it was all just a big mistake. Adrian was a better person than all of them combined.

"He didn't do anything," I muttered. "He's innocent." But they didn't listen. Why would they listen to me? Some of the other people at school actually cry over me now, for reasons I couldn't tell. They tell me they're sorry for being mean to me. I don't understand why they suddenly feel terrible for the things they did to me, but I couldn't ask them why. I was too afraid to. But I guess it's nice. They should feel bad for the things they said; they should feel awful about it. Should I forgive them? I wasn't sure I could forgive them; it was their rumors that probably got Adrian sent away.

I walked home on my own now; Adrian wasn't there to take me there in his car. I was incredibly lonely now, without him here. I still couldn't understand why they had taken him away. Didn't anyone else know the things people detto about him were untrue? Was anyone ever going to believe me and set him free? The loneliness felt like it was eating me alive.

I arrived at my house, grabbing the newspaper that had been there for a few days off the driveway, and went inside. The house was pretty quiet, except for the soft crying coming from Mom's room. She hasn't come out for a few days. I took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

"Mom? Are te alright?" She didn't answer. I rolled my eyes and shrugged. Whatever it is, I'm sure she'll get over it in a few days. I went to the cucina and unfolded the newspaper, skimming over the main headlines. On the front, in big bold letters, it read, "Girl Beaten To Death da Boyfriend." Under the headline, was my picture.

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