With Every Blade You Stain

"Heinrich Himmler was the head of propaganda for the Nazi party right?"I blinked in surprise, turning to face the girl next to me, Sophie, who had just spoken.
"No", I said. "That was Joseph Gobbels, Himmler was the Reichsführer of the schutzstaffel."
She looked at me blankly. I sighed. "You know, the SS? Formed from the SA? They were fanatically loyal to Hitler - like - they were like his storm troopers"
"Oh", Sophie said, looking even more confused. "Thanks..."
I turned back to my work, rolling my eyes. I failed to understand how complicated some people found modern world history. I mean, sure, it wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but I found it relatively simple.
I glanced up at the board and found the teacher, Mr. Siegel, pinching the bridge of his nose and staring at me over the top of his specs. I raised an eyebrow at him, which was probably a bit rude, but he was sort of creeping me out.
"Karla", he said thoughtfully.
"Yesss...", I replied, dragging out the 's'.
"Do you know what the Nazis used to - dispose - of Jewish people in the early days of concentration camps?" He asked.
I often wondered why a Jewish man had decided to become a teacher of the Nazi Germany sector of modern world history.
"Um, gas? Duh, that's why they were called 'gas chambers'", Courtney replied, and Beth sniggered.
"I didn't ask you", Mr. Siegel said pointedly, glaring at her. I smirked and replied coolly; "Well, after it became apparent that the use of a firing squad was too laborious, the nazis turned to carbon monoxide, flowing into sealed chambers from running car engines. They realised this was an option after one of there own almost died in his car when he passed out in his garage with the engine running, as a result of intoxication."
Jed let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like "nerd", and I felt my face flush. The whole class sniggered, and I suddenly couldn't meet anyone's eyes. The class's laughter grew, along with my embarrassment, and soon I couldn't even hear the insults over the blood pounding in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, covering as much of my face as I could with my hair. Why did this always happen to me? Stupid anxiety.
"Why can't you take a joke? It's a bloody joke, Karla."
My head jerked up, startled as to whose voice had managed to cut through the barriers of my shame.
"Nobody likes you. Why do you think you have no friends?"
I looked around, hair whipping out wards as I spun in my chair, searching desperately for that icy, cruel voice.
"Everyone wants you dead."
They were right.
"You don't deserve to live."
Very true.
"No one would even noticed if you died."
"STOP IT!" I screamed, panic blurring the startled faces around me. "YOU'RE WRONG!"
But they were right.
No one does care.
"See? I told you all along, didn't I? All these years you brushed me off as just a voice inside your head, don't you see! I am your soul, Karla, your conscience. And do you know what happens to people who's conscience's give up on them? They die. And the best part is, they do it themselves..."
I couldn't take this any more. My brain was working enough for me to realise that something inside me had snapped, and if anyone found out, they would lock me away in a mental asylum. With a sudden surge of anger I leapt to my feet, shoving my desk over as I went, ignoring people's frightened screams as I trampled the classroom, trying in vain to find the door. But my legs weren't working properly, and I couldn't seem to see. Then without warning I was on the ground and someone was shaking me, and I was screaming for them to stop - that I didn't want to go, they wouldn't lock me away, and I was crying, shaking, screaming...
I hurtled to a sitting position, my eyes snapping open as I grabbed a fistful of bed sheets in terror. A strangled cry that I wasn't aware I made crawled from my throat as I looked down at my chest to find my heart beating unusually fast. Then the rest of my senses kicked in, and I realised with a jolt that it was morning, and that my mother was kneeling next to my bed, her hands gripping my arms and her face a picture of fear and pain.
It was a dream.
I let out another shuddering breath as my heart slowed, and I reached a hand up to brush the sweaty locks of hair from my face.
"Karla", my mum said slowly. "You're okay now?"
The way she said that like a question unnerved me.
"Yeah", I breathed shakily. "Yeah Mum I'm fine".
She gave me an odd look and stood up.
"I'll just be on the phone Sweetie", she said, Turing to leave. "I'll leave you to get ready for school".
I slumped back into the pillows and sighed, remembering my nightmare. It seemed so real! I groaned and slid out of bed, grabbing my timetable as I headed to the bathroom.
Thank the gods I didn't have History today.

Notes

I am so sorry I haven't updated in about two weeks. Quite a lot of shit went down, including my school finding out I may have depression, my mum making me go to a mental hospital to do all sorts of tests to see if I have a mental illness (as she has three and I live with her), annd woohoo! my parents talked to each other for the first time in two years! Anyways, now my dad has taken me to Australia (wtf?) and I'm finding out I have a lot of family I never knew about. Wow. So I'm in Adelaide now. For a week. And turns out my mum is in Brisbane. I thought she was going to Tonga, but nope! On the plus side, I'll probably have a lot of time to write while I'm in Oz, coz I don't have school (yay!) so, yeeah...

thanks for putting up with my shit, I'll start making the story interesting now! :3

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