This Rose Bleeds (boyxboy)

Chapter ~Six~

OMG HIIIIIII!!!!!!!!! haha, the ! is like an upside down i...i ! i ! i ! i ! i !...cool...OH! I DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE! *closes imaginary book*

So...Who's actually reading this? I wouldn't know, because everyones a freaking silent reader!!!!! some ON!!!!!!!! show me some love or stalkerism and comment or vote! jk, just read if you want...WAIT, NO, COMMENT!!!!!!! I would say please, but I never say please, so please ignore that.

Enjoy! I've never dedicated a chapter yet, so if someone wants a dedication, write a reaaallly good comment. YAY FOR LOVE!!!!! jk, I hate romance. BYE!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <--WOOH! look at my wave!!!!

Mrs. Clair was in the office in the back and I was opening the shop. I decided to do overtime this morning.

            The man that had come by last night was Mr. Stevens, and his words shoved me on overdrive. I completely neglected my symptoms, mostly because I didn't have money to buy over-the-counter medicine. Every month I pay him eight hundred dollars, which are only portions from a much bigger debt that should I think about, it would make me faint. My dad had borrowed money off of him for years; resulting in the huge tab.
            But my dad is gone.
            Now I have to pay back the entire loan, which could take my whole life. Mr. Stevens is powerful in the sense he has back up. He could make me lose everything I barely have a hold on right now. He's not related, or at least I hope not. Apparently he was an old 'friend' of dad. He's also controlling. If I'm not able to make payday by the end of the month, he finds other ways to compensate.
            And that's what scares me.
            For the first couple of months he had made it a simple beat up and made a mess of the house, since I was young. But then he changed it to a much personal manner.
            That's one of the reasons I don't like being touched. Because he had touched me when I had no power. The other reason was my dad.
            It started when I was nine and my mother died. My dad took the news horribly. He began drinking heavily until he just collapsed. He quit his job and continuously used Mr. Stevens's money to pay for his gambles, drugs, and other payments. He was always wasted, so I had already began learning life for myself and cooked, cleaned, walked myself to school. Then my dad became abusive. He took out all his anger on the only person he could find–me.
            He would punch, kick, and whip me with his belt until I bled. The scars on my body were from the times when he was less than half aware of what he was doing. Once he had used the rod from the curtains, and heated it so it stung. I couldn't cry or else he would come back.
            Then, he finally decided to end it. He came home half dead, with his eyes sunken into the back of his head and a grimace outlining his features. I had made dinner, because at the time I had given up and decided to just go on like nothing happened to me every night. He had given me a long look.
            "You look so much like your mother." He drawled. "And someone else."
            I did look like my mother. But I looked like him as well.
            He ambled slowly forward and swiped a knife from the table. I stumbled backward but he grabbed my small arm with a grip so strong I shouted. He shook me and yelled, "You're nobody! You're the reason she's gone!" He raised the knife and sliced down the front of my shirt.
            The blade tore into my skin and I screamed. "Why don't you just die?" He asked in a shout. I couldn't move from that spot at his feet. Before he plunged the knife through me, he gave me a last look. I could tell why he hesitated to stab me: because I looked like his wife. So instead he dropped to his knees, raised the knife, and sliced my wrist repeatedly.
            I remember lying in my pooling blood. There were lights flashing outside. My dad looked aghast at what he'd done, though I don't know why since he's always wanted to get rid of me. I remember him plunging the knife through his neck before I lost consciousness.
            Somehow the doctors were able to stem the blood flow and stitch up the slices done to my wrist. In other words, I lived. The same couldn't be said for my father.
            I don't remember anything from the hospital, or until after when I met Mr. Stevens. I wasn't sure about the whole custody thing since I was eleven, but for some reason, since then, I've lived on my own. That man probably had his own hand in it, which I found strange considering I've never really met him before and we weren't related. Mr. Stevens brought the debt up when I was thirteen. And, as anyone could have guessed, that's when I began working for my life.
            Mr. Stevens is cruel, and likes to take advantage of my failing in creating the money needed.
            Why don't I just kill myself? Because Mr. Stevens won't let me die, I'm scared the doctors will save me once again, and I'll be back in the horrid hospital. Mr. Stevens will probably pay my medical bill and increase the debt. Then the chances of being free will vanish like my hope long ago.
            I coughed in my shirt so I didn't get germs on the dishes I was preparing. Why am I thinking about all of this? It's useless thinking about the past–something I have no control over. This month I had to make the payday. I will not be taken advantage of again.
            "Nathan, why are you coughing so much? I can hear it from my office." Mrs. Clair came out came out with her reading glasses propped on her nose and her hands on her hips. "Are you getting sick?"
            "No, I'm perfectly fine." I smiled.
            She rolled her eyes and felt my forehead before I could evade. "You're flushed and burning up. Go home right now and get some rest."
            "Mrs. Clair, I can't. I need the money."
            "I know you do, but I don't want you fainting on the job. Being sick doesn't help you or anyone else. Go." She pointed toward the door. I groaned and obliged.
            Fine, I thought. I'll go to school then. For once I took my time. My eyes drooped and suddenly I slammed into something solid. I blinked and looked up.
            Huh, I was at school already. So that's what its like to sleepwalk.
            "Watch where you're–oh, hello Nathan." I looked up at the person I had run into.
            It was the boy from the other day. "Hi, Mattson right?" I looked around and asked, "You come to this school?"
            He nodded. "I transferred a couple days ago." I nodded slowly and stifled a yawn. He looked me up and down. "Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good."
            "Thanks." I mumbled.
            He threw an arm around my shoulders unexpectedly and I flinched. He didn't notice and continued speaking. "Don't get me wrong, I think you look cute. But you seem under the weather."
            I felt under the weather and...wait, did he just say I looked cute? "Did you just–"
            "What period do you have first?" He interrupted and began walking toward the building doors.
            "Um..." I stumbled for words. His arm was making me panic with alarm. "Uh, English."
            He nodded and smiled slyly. "Me too. And I know your in my math class, don't know why its last today." I tried to shrug on his arm but he ignored the attempt.
            "Where's your locker?" I asked.
            He pointed down the hall and I sighed with relief as I stepped away. "I'll catch up then, I have to get my books." He nodded slowly before walking away.
            What was that about?
            I shook my head and found my locker. Before I put some books in my bag I was shoved to the side. My bag fell and a bunch of papers scattered. I looked up to see Jonah and Marcus snickering. Ryder was coming up behind them. He was about to go on as if it was normal for his friends to act like that–which it was–but then he caught my eye.
            He stopped behind the two and I wondered briefly what he would do.
            Nothing, of course he would do nothing. I hadn't been exactly nice to him, and I was still trash in his eyes.
            "Hello, Ms. Strauss." Marcus mocked and scrambled to collect my papers and avoided their taunts.
            "Will you be serving us again this afternoon?" Jonah asked with his arms crossed.
            "Nah, he probably got fired after he broke those plates."
            "I didn't brake them, you tripped me." I muttered. Jonah rolled his eyes and his friend scoffed.
            "Or, you're too weak to carry the food." They laughed and I gathered my books.
            "You're weaker if you need someone else to back you up." I murmured quietly. Apparently, their hearing was better than their brains and they heard my comment.
            Marcus reached down and grabbed my left wrist to yank me up. I shouted and tried to pull away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ryder step forward, probably to join his friends. I was shoved against the locker and Jonah grabbed a hand full of my shirt.
            "Say that again." He raised his fists and for a moment the look in his eyes reminded me of my father.
            "St–"
            "What's going on?" A voice asked from behind.
            I was dropped to the ground and suddenly I could breathe again. The three turned to look at Mattson coming up from our left.
            "Mattson?" Ryder asked in confusion.
            "Who're you?" Jonah asked.
            "Hello Mr. Kenneth. Fancy seeing you here." Mattson said indifferently. He smiled but it was obviously forced and his eyes looked venomous.
            "Who's he?" Marcus asked.
            "Nobody." Ryder sneered.
            "Nathan are you okay?" Mattson shoved past the other boys and offered a hand. I picked up my bag and got up by myself.
            Jonah scoffed and stalked off with Marcus right behind. Ryder dawdled.
            Mattson began brushing me off but I jumped at his touch and suddenly someone else was blocking my vision. Ryder had grabbed his hand.
            He muttered something and Mattson smiled not exactly pleasantly, and I was confused.
            "What?" I asked. The two looked down at me. Wait, why was everyone taller than me? I was pretty tall myself at 5'6", and yes that's tall in my book.
            Ryder didn't say anything but stepped away, glaring at Mattson. The later stepped closer to me and swung a arm casually over my shoulders. Of course, I flinched but he didn't seem to catch it.
            Ryder's glare intensified.
            I was...confused. Why was Mattson even around me?
            "I need to get to class." I muttered and hurriedly left Mattson's side to scurry down the hall. Honestly I wasn't quite sure why either of them was acting strange, but I didn't care.
            I was too tired and exhausted to care.
            Plus, Mr. Stevens was back, and expecting payment–any sort of payment.