I’ve never been the kind of person to look at anything and think it’s automatically insignificant. Everything has value. I study things. Whether what I’m studying happens to be surrounding me, in a book, or even something from a dream I had while I fell asleep. I believe the mind is greater than anything else. I allow myself to daydream probably far more than i should. That gives me room to breathe. Without those little moments I would be much lesser of a person.

My neighbors think I’m odd. I’m almost positive. Every time I step out the front door I feel like I’m being analyzed by monsters. I don’t really like people. I never have. Maybe it’s less to do with the liking people and more to do with how people act. The nature and habits of what human society does to each other.

I’m an extremely sensitive person. I notice emotions and allow them to consume me too much at times. I don’t like how humans are so hypocritical and seem to contradict everything they say. That makes it hard for me to trust anything or anyone. The actions and motives of every individual I’ve ever met always ends up completely twisted.

My father falls into that category. He is always doing things that don’t make any sense. He says he’s going to do one thing and then ends up doing something entirely different.

“Ella,” he’d say to my mother. “Where did I put that screwdriver?”

My mother lived in another world inside of her head. Sort of like me but not quite. My world was more colorful. Hers was more dark. It’s weird but she told me one day when we were sitting outside that she’d almost named me Mary. When I asked her why her only response was because it meant bitter.

My father and mother have a very strained marriage. They didn’t treat each other the way two people do when they love each other.

I talk about my father in the past tense because he left last year. Actually, that’s not true but I wish it was. I wish they would just separate. My mother is grieving for a life she never had. My father walks about and pretends nothing’s wrong. He left this household a long time ago.

My name is Eyre. Strange, I know. I don’t really understand it all myself. All I can gather is that my mom liked the book Jane Eyre so much that she named me

after her.

“Eyre!”

I close my journal. My thoughts have been incredibly disrupted. I glance at the clock on the wall. It was already getting late. I capped my pen, throw it on my desk, grabbed my bag, and ran downstairs.

I pull my hood further over my head. My only way to hide. The outside world is so much louder than the one I’ve invented inside my head.

“Hiding again, are we?”

I spin around. A girl with blonde hair and green eyes pulls at my hoodie.

“Leave me alone,” I try to say but it comes out as more of a whisper.

She laughs but doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Her hands grab at my face. She tries to pull my hood off again, She backs me into a wall. I’m not sure why but I break out a fist. I’m not sure if I’ll punch her, but I’d like to.

I’ve never punched anyone before. I’m not that kind of person. I can’t say I haven’t thought it before though. If this keeps happening…

“April, she’s not worth it,” says someone from behind her. She doesn’t seem to hear a word. She continues to survey me which is causing me to become rather antsy.She’s never liked me.

“Why are you so weird, Eyre?” April asks.

I shake my head. I feel something starting to build inside my chest. It’s not an emotion I’ve ever felt before. It’s anger but mixed with other things. I’m aware that I’m losing my composure. “Leave it alone,” I hear myself say.

She leans closer. “Or what?”

This girl is taunting me. She reminds me of a vulture circling her prey. I don’t like this.

By now, a small crowd has gathered. I wonder what they think for a brief moment and then I don’t care.

My fist makes contact with the right side of her jaw. My opponent is on the ground, She reaches a hand up to her mouth. “Did you just hit me?”

A trace of blood lands on the ground so I guess that answers her question,

I’m not sure what’s happening exactly, but I’m on top of her. Both of my fists are hitting her repeatedly. April is screaming. The other students are in hysterics.

A teacher walks out and immediately runs over. “Todd!” She shouts. “Lynch! Break it up!”

A girl comes up the stairs. She’s holding a book, but drops that and her bag instantly. Her jaw drops when she sees me. She’s by my side pulling me off. Her dark eyes stare down at me in concern. “Eyre,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

I’m still fighting. I hit her chest with so much force, but she holds me to her and doesn’t let go. She doesn’t say anything but continues to hold me.

I finally come to my senses. ” Dahlia,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.I don’t know what happened. I was just so angry.”

Dahlia doesn’t even attempt to question me. All she says is,”I know. It’s okay.”

I try to answer back but my voice quivers. She doesn’t even notice. Her arms stay wrapped around me for a long time. ” That girl had it coming.”

The first time I’ve ever fought back over anything . I consider myself average. Not even an underdog. So, the fact that I actually fought back today .

I’m sitting in my room on bed thinking about what happened today at school. April and millions of other bullies keep us outcasts always on our toes , but maybe what I did earlier made a difference. I’ve never had the courage to fight back until now. Fighting back gives us all hope that things will change in the future. Maybe it’ll give others hope too.