The winter breeze whipped the trees allowing icicles to drop from the branches, shattering on snowy ground below. The water turning into cold ice within the morning hours, causing the wild animals to slip on the ground. Their furry bodies dripping with rain then icing over covering with icicles by morning. I step outside onto the doormat, feeling the icy breeze slam into my warm face, allowing my body to develop chills. My boots start to crunch in the snow while my hands stuff themselves into the warm coat pockets. The hair on my head pushes with the wind, making my ears cold and red. The mailbox metal is cold from the winter air and the rain is dripping off the bottom onto the snow which turns into ice. I reach my hand to open the mailbox door and suddenly feel even colder. My hands begin to turn numb and goose bumps appear on my arms and legs. I have only been out in this weather for 10 minutes and I am already freezing and wanting to crawl back into bed. The unfortunate part is the school district is still making teachers and children go to school, even if you are an intern. I close the mailbox door and walk quickly back inside not noticing the black car stopping next to my driveway.
It was December 6, 2013 when I first visited the hospital, more like the emergency room. My legs and hands were red and bruised, my arms were chilled to the bone, it was all in all a horrific accident, yet I lived through it. I now remember that day as a memory and a nightmare, the stories I go through and tell people are just nightmares. Every time I tell the story of that day, I can feel myself going through it all over again. My body begins to shake, and I begin to start another seizure. The people around me always take great care of me when calling in the nurses and doctors, so I always feel loved and cared for. Yet I hate the memory I now have of December, 6 2013.
Jane Carter is my name and my age is 25, yes loving the young life still. I am an intern at Bridge Dale Middle School teaching 8th grade English. My parents when I was younger told me never to teach middle schoolers because of how crazy they are but, it was a passion and obviously my destiny. My brothers have always told me that when I go home, I am a different person. More exciting and brave, but when I am at school I am strict and lawful. I am engaged to a man I met almost 4 years ago at a coffee bar in college. He is the man of my dreams with hair that was fluffy and beautiful. He is almost 6"5 and thin but not too thin for my liking, a man that anyone could call a prince but he would never call anyone, but me his princess. I love him to life and he engaged me only a few months ago, it was a beautiful moment but not the place I would expect. Although maybe that is why he picked the spot. I won’t say what happened because that is for me to know and for you to never find out. His name is Brian Carter and he is my fiance.
When I was a little girl I was always the one to be picked on and called names. My teachers never thought to punish the children who caused me pain because "they had more important things to worry about". My parents always called the school wondering how I was doing in my classes but the school never responded. I did however receive straight A’s and many participation points. My tests scores by high school had exceptionally increased by more than just 10 points. Then Sophomore year came and I was yet again pushed around for my high scores on PSAT’s and grades. Teachers never said anything to those teenagers even after my first time being homesick from a student punching me in my stomach, after lunch.
I survived high school and still ended with straight A’s and very high SAT scores which my parents were thriving for. My parents controlled my school life which is why I never got invited to high school parties, either I had to stay home to study or I had to get extra help from teachers to raise my, already high grades. Throughout high school however I did make some friends, they are still with me today, even after graduation and through college. Once I graduated from high school, I started getting my college acceptance letters in the mail. I was accepted into Harvard University and Stanford University, including most of the colleges in the country. My parents, obviously, chose the college I had to go to and they picked Stanford, why? Well, personally and truthfully I have no idea, I had to admit it was and still is a great college but I always thought I was gonna pick the college. I guess I was wrong.
Throughout my college years I had experienced heartbreaks and lost friendships but the only thing that kept me together was my grades. Straight A’s throughout my entire life and still thriving for greater grades, yet I am done with school. Anyway, my first heartbreak was with a young man named David Livingstone. He was tall just like Brian but he was also a jock, my "friends" set me up with him during my Freshman year, which now that I think about it, explains a lot. David pushed me around all the time and made me attend all his football games even if I had to drive hours to get there. He always hung out with my fake friends: Caroline, Cameron, Jackie, and Olivia. He always hit on them, even when I was around, and he even made fun of me.
One afternoon, my mother called me from home and was wondering how my grades are doing. She said she noticed a drop in my AP World History grade and didn't want me to get below 100. I told her that afternoon, that I would raise it back up to 100 and do my best on the test. Obviously, she asked me when the test was and I said tomorrow. She flipped out, she started yelling at me through the phone and bugging me. She grounded me from home, to stay in my dorm and study all night until I could memorize the entire chapter. I told her I would, yet the thought kept running through my mind of "what about David’s championship game?". I quickly started reading the chapter of my textbook and writing notes down, until I heard my phone ring. The caller ID read David, although I was afraid to pick up, my mind got the best of me. I picked up, he told me to get to the game before he broke up with me. I was stupid back then and didn't know what a trick sounded like, so I did what I was told and ran to the home game.
It was raining and cold, allowing me to see my breath. I ran across campus to the game where I found a pissed off looking David, the football team, and my "friends". All I remember is waking up in the nurse’s office with a bloody lip and nose, two broken legs, and a sprained wrist. Everything was blurry and unfamiliar until I saw the shape I did not want to see, David. He pushed the nurse out of the room and broke up with me. He said, "You are stupid and no one likes you so I hope you remember not to mess with me again or else you won’t be here anymore." I remember him saying that to me just like it was yesterday, she slapped me across the face then left the room leaving me broken and in pain.
Once I left college behind and moved into an apartment across the country, far away from my parents and any other person who could hurt me, I met Brian. It was my first day in the town and I had gone on a shopping spree for clothes and furniture until a certain coffee shop guy caught my eye. Ever since that day is history, all I know is that may have been the first time I ever felt special.
Once Brian and I moved in with each other I began writing, a special hidden talent of mine. I wrote about my life as being abused from friends and being bullied throughout my life. It was a special article that I sent to the Washington Post to be published somewhere. The boss wrote back to me and said the best words I probably could remember, "This is the best and most true article about children being bullied, I have ever read". To this day that one sentence will always be stuck in my mind. The Washington Post published my article in the newspaper and bargained me to write a book about the concept. I did. The book became a bestseller and still after 5 years is still high on the charts.
After my writing career paused and I had some more money in my pocket, I began teaching middle schoolers. I loved the subject English and wanted my students to learn more in depth about it, teaching Honors English in 8th grade. When I arrived home for Christmas that year and told my family the big news, they just gasped. My mother looked at me like I had just killed somebody and my brothers didn't look alive, my father developed an angry expression, while I just stood there smiling. Ever since that day I flew back to Maryland and continued my life never wanting to visit ever again. My family scarred my life then the next week wanted to apologize which on my behalf I did not accept. They thought they could control my entire life until the day I die but they are wrong. I am only alive to be myself and live up to my dreams not to theirs.
The year is now 2013, an unlucky year I would think, and Brian and I have just moved into together. It is a perfect house on the water, a small house fit for 3, we both have called the rooms. Brian and I share a room while our two dogs have their own room and the soon coming baby’s room left empty. We both took almost an entire year to complete the furniture and painting, and I may say it turned out fabulous. New neighbors are moving in next to us with two young children and three small dogs. Brian and I always dream of having a family just like theirs because, to us, it seems so perfect. Ever since I have left my complicated life as a perfect student, I have felt a new feeling of happiness.