A walk with death or everything lies in rebirth

Five minutes later, the 3rd lesson is already over, and only the thought that the whole 2 hours before lunch is too much is spinning in my head. From the very beginning, I was looking forward to it all being over...when I graduate from high school. It is a pity that this moment has not yet come. Right now, all I was doing was fidgeting in my chair or absent-mindedly drawing some anime characters on the margins of my notebook. My gaze darted between the teacher and the clock that hung over the electronic blackboard. I hardly listened to the teacher. The clock showed 11:05, there were still five minutes left before the end of the lesson. The teacher was so animated, so passionate about the topic of the lesson, that the class, perhaps for the first time, listened attentively. Our chemistry teacher Sergey Dmitrievich was one of those teachers who strive to talk to students on an equal footing, shorten their last name by one letter, finish the lesson early and chat with the guys about trifles. He came up with a lot of group tasks to give free rein to friendly communication in the classroom, conducted them "fun", for example, experiments or laboratory work. I looked over my shoulder. My classmate was sitting to my left, two rows below and one seat behind. She noticed that I was looking, and, squinting, grinned. I looked down at my notebook, trying to push away the unpleasant premonition that made my stomach clench. I looked at my watch—eleven forty-three. -That's all,-said Sergey Dmitrievich, - Sorry, guys, but there will be a task for the weekend. Think "About useful and harmful molecules: how vitamins and medications affect our condition." Make a list if you want, but it's not necessary. On Tuesday, we will split into groups of four and see who did the best. To the winners — a delicious prize! There were several cheers, after which the audience was engulfed in noisy chaos. Notebooks and textbooks were slammed shut, bags were fastened, chairs creaked on the cheap flooring, and the intrusive noise of incipient conversations gradually increased. A few of the more sociable students surrounded the teacher to chat. As for me, I just silently collected the textbooks. My notes were almost blank, except for a collection of scribbles and some marginal drawings, and markings for the minutes until lunch, which looked like I was counting the time until a bomb exploded. Lisa was talking to friends. She was popular, but not as gorgeous as popular girls are usually portrayed in TV shows. She was cute. Miniature. Her look was accentuated by sky-blue hairpins in her shoulder-length blonde hair and flirtatious manners. Today she was wearing long black pants and a strapless top, which seemed completely stupid to me—it was early spring, when steam still came out of her mouth in the morning. It's not for me to judge her, though. Unlike me, boys liked her and made a lot of friends. In me, the only feminine feature was short white pixie hair. My clothes did not give food to interested boyish glances and did not resemble the plumage of a bird during the mating season. I wear sweatshirts or a sweatshirt. I've never worn clothes like that. I think guys liked Lisa because she was attractive, but she didn't pay too much attention to it. If only they knew. The bell rang melodiously, and I was the first to be outside the door. I wasn't running, but I was walking at a decent speed. Up the stairs, and to the women's restroom on the first floor in high school. There were already half a dozen girls there, so we had to wait for the booth to become available. I looked nervously at the door, feeling my heart sink every time someone walked into the room. As soon as one of the cubicles was empty, I went inside it and locked the door. Then she leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly. Not that it gets any easier. Relief implies that you feel better. I'm not going to get any better until I get home or get out of this hell. No, I just felt less anxious. It must have been about five minutes before the noise died down. Looking under the partitions, I was convinced that the other booths were empty. Sitting on the toilet lid, I unwrapped my lunch bag and began to eat. Lunch in the toilet stall has become habitual for me. Every day I had a snack there, then I was on the phone or writing my own fictional stories, or reading a manga light novel. Yes. I love watching movies, anime, TV series, and the like. Most of the time, I visited anime. I used to write fanfiction where I got into anime. I still want to get there and escape from this world, where everyone, including your parents, hated you. The door to the toilet swung open with a bang. I froze, trying not to rustle or let the man know what I was doing. I listened to the sounds. I couldn't make out the voices. The conversation was drowned out by ringing laughter and the gurgling of water in the sink. There was a knock on the door of the booth so suddenly that I jumped. In response to my silence, they knocked again. - Busy,- I said very quietly. - Oh my God, it's Pounder !- One of the girls exclaimed happily. The other whispered something to her, and I could barely hear the answer: "Yes, come on! " I jumped up abruptly, dropping the bag of leftover lunch on the tiled floor. I rushed to the door, opened the latch, and tried to get out. The door did not give in to my attempts. There was a noise in the neighboring booths, then a sound came from above. I wanted to see what was there, but as soon as I looked up, something was thrown in my face. The caustic liquid spread over my face and blinded me instantly, burning my eyes, leaking into my mouth and nose. Apple juice. They didn't stop there. As I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I saw Lisa and her friend Nadia leaning over the partitions with bottles in their hands, and I barely had time to cover my head with my hands before more streams of juice poured down on me. It ran down his neck and hissed through his clothes and hair. I tried to push the door again, but someone was holding it outside. If Liza and Nadya poured water on me, it means that Ksenia and Alina were holding the door, or rather they were holding it. Enraged by this fact, I threw my whole body against the door and fell into a puddle of juice, slipping on the wet floor. Empty plastic bottles of grapes and cranberries on the labels fell to the floor next to me. Another bottle of orange soda bounced off my shoulder and flopped into a puddle before rolling under the partition into the next cubicle. The smell of the fruit drinks was cloying and sweet. The door swung open, and I saw the girls. Liza and Nadya, Ksenia with Alina. The leader of this gang was Lisa. They laughed like they couldn't see anything funnier, but I could barely hear them. They me off, just like the others, but they're even bigger. Before I could get up, I felt a pain in my stomach. It was Alina who kicked me. And again another beating began. A blow to the stomach and back, to the face, and to the head. Blood gushed to the floor. The barely alive body falls back on the cold and sap-soaked tiles. How could I let them do that? The pain is no longer felt, and the eyes are slowly darkening. The last thing I saw was the fear in their eyes. I had already come to terms with it and was happy to die. No! I'm not suicidal... I'm just tired of putting up with it... You are welcome... Can I at least be reborn in a normal world and in a normal family?