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Emma Eismontaite

Emma Eismontaite

Email: emute9@hotmail.co.uk

Total Article : 66

About Me:Hello! My name is Emma, and I'm fifteen. I do tennis as well as horse-riding. Also, I love Art and English, and have chosen to write stories because I love creative writing! x

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Running Away

Running Away

Running Away

I am getting bullied. A lot.

     It’s at school.

     I can’t stop it. I have no friends. My family are no help. I need to move out of this school, but we can’t. We live too far away from any other school. There are endless miles of fields and hills around us. We’re in the middle of nowhere.

     Today was the worst. The moment I stepped in the school, they surrounded me. They backed me up in a place in the school where no-one could find us, or hear us. They sneered at me. They pushed me about, laughing. Then they started tormenting me. They pulled me onto the floor, and kicked me in the stomach. They tossed me about, punched me in the face, slapped me. Kicked me again.

     I was endlessly crying, tears were silently streaming down my face. I had a black eye, blood from my nose, bruises and scars on my stomach.

     By the time they’d finished, I was a mess, so I stayed lying there until the end of school, and before I went home, I made sure to smear lots of foundation onto my face to cover the bruises, and to wash the blood off my face.

     My parents didn’t comment on anything. They didn’t care. Half the time they were at home, they blamed me for everything, they shouted at me. And when they weren’t at home, they were going on holidays, to work, always leaving me behind.

     Not alone, though.

     Today my parents went out, leaving me, as usual.

     I went to my stables. My Friesian horse, Ebony, whinnied, greeting me. I was the only one looking after him. My parents got me him for my birthday when I was younger, when they still actually cared about me. Yes, we are rich, but I don’t care about money, or school, or my parents. I care about nature, animals, Ebony.

     I tacked him up quickly, stored lots of food, hay, water. I brought my bag stuffed full of clothes, things I would need. I already threw my phone in the lake on the way home. I don’t need any contact with the people I know and hate.

     I led him out of the stables, and mounted onto him. I’ve loved horse riding ever since I was little, and horses were my favorite animal.

     And I rode him out, out into those endless loving fields and hills surrounding us, galloping. His steady breath and thumping of feet kept me calm, even though tears were running down my face. I loved him, and him only. He was my life.

     I was finally running away.

      

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