Welcome To My Life [boyxboy]

Chapter One

"Before I forget - has anybody got the homework for me?" she asked. Without looking up, I raised my hand.

"Trust Sam!" somebody muttered.

"He would, wouldn't he!" somebody else whispered. I didn't realise why until I looked up.

I was the only person in the class with my hand in the air. I dropped it back down to my side, flushing furiously and feeling foolish. The teacher, a short but curvy doe-eyed woman named Miss Parkinson, smiled at me. "Thank you, Sam," she said. "Would you like to bring it to the front, or shall I collect it later?"

"Um... can you get it later?" I mumbled. She smiled again.

"Of course," she said, turning back to the board. "Now, Romeo and Juliet is one of my personal favourites because..."

                                                                                                     ***

After about ten minutes of Miss Parkinson talking about Shakespeare was so wonderful, and the girls who sat in front of me swooning over Leonardo Di'Caprio in Romeo and Juliet,  the classroom door banged open. Every set of eyes, including mine, swivelled to the doorway. A boy was standing there, in the school uniform. He had blonde hair, swept back in a cool way which made me think of that sparkly guy from the vampire movie all the girls in my year obsessed over. He grinned an easy smile at Miss Parkinson.

"Really sorry I'm late," he said, in a cheerful, cultured voice. "Got a bit lost. It's my first day, see. Is this 10B1 English?"

"It certainly is. You're the new boy, then?" she asked, even though he'd just blatantly told her that.

"I certainly am," he chuckled. "Charles Meldrum. Most people call me Charlie."

"Right then, Charlie," she said. "Let's find you a seat - I'm sorry, I know how daunting schools can be when you're new."

"Oh, it's alright, I already know some people here," he said, Hollywood-perfect grin still fixed firmly in place. 

"Hiya, Charl!" Vanessa Boyle called from her seat on the other side of the classroom.

"Hi, Ness!" Charlie replied with a giggle and a wave.

"Can Charlie sit next to me, Miss?" Vanessa asked. "I saved this seat special."

"Well, then, I suppose so," the teacher smiled. "You can share a book, can't you?"

"Of course," Charlie said, sitting down beside Vanessa.

I groaned quietly - Vanessa was the most popular girl in our year. Hell, in our school. She was curvy and pretty and wore way too much makeup. By the looks of things, this Charlie was her boyfriend.

Great. Just another popular kid to pick on me.

                                                                                     ***

I trudged out of the school gates at the end of the day, in a considerably worse mood than I had been in the morning. I didn't think that was possible - but after being tripped up in the corridors, having my head shoved down the toilet and being punched twice in the face and three times in the stomach, I was proved wrong. I was pretty thankful that Mariah was already there. It meant I didn't have to wait.

I used to walk home from school - it was only a couple of miles to my front door. But since the bullying started and people began to beat me up on my way home, I refused to walk any more. Instead, I begged my stepmother, Mariah, to pick me up, insisting that I was scared because of 'things.' That's what we called it now in our house, on the rare occasion we talked about it: 'things.' Mariah and Dad and Stephen all did it, when they thought I wasn't listening. Poor Sam, I think he's upset about 'things.' I heard Sam crying last night, d'you think he still has nightmares about 'things?' I really hate the way 'things' have affected Sam, he's not getting better at all - d'you think we should get him more counselling appointments? I know why they did it. Because if anybody said the word outright, I burst into floods of baby tears and pretty much broke down.

I slipped into the car and fastened my seatbelt. Mariah smiled at me. "Alright, pumpkin? Good day at school?" she asked.

"Is there such a thing?" I mumbled.

"Don't be such a Negative Nelly," she tutted.

"I'm not, I'm telling the truth," I shrugged.

"I never liked school either," she commented. I rolled my eyes. I happened to know that Mariah had never been bullied at school, that she was pretty much the Vanessa of her school career, minus the bitchiness. "Any homework to do?"

"Yeah. Art," I said. She chuckled.

"We won't be seeing you for the rest of the night, then?" she said. "Ah well, at least it's something you enjoy. And you're good at it too. Your drawings are beautiful."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I wasn't sure she'd think that so much if she saw my more recent drawings. They were pretty dark and gritty compared to my old pictures of flowers and family and our pet cat Felicity. But I kept those safely stashed away under my bed - Mariah and Dad already thought me weird enough. They didn't need to see those too.

"Have you taken your pills today?" she asked. I swallowed.

"Yep," I said, truthfully. I'd been on anti-depressants for the past eighteen months now, and they weren't really helping much. I didn't feel suicidal and hateful like I used to, but they didn't make me any less down and they made it difficult for me to sleep at night. Mariah sighed, and reached out as if to touch me. She didn't, though. She knew better.

"I know you don't like it, Sammy, but you don't have to take them for much longer. Only six more months," she said.

"I know," I said. "But I don't understand why I have to take them at all - they don't help me. I'd be better off with just therapy."

"Doctor's orders, mate, sorry," she said, sounding truly apologetic.

"It's alright. Not your fault," I sighed. There was a tense silence for a long moment, then Mariah spoke again.

"Sam?" she said, sounding nervous. "I was talking to Amy yesterday."

"Oh?" I replied. "That's nice." Amy was my therapist and, as much as I liked her, she was much too involved in my family life for my liking. That probably had something to do with the fact that she was Mariah's neice, but it was still irritating that she could just crop up at our house whenever she fancied.

"She said you still haven't spoken to her properly about 'things'. I understand it's hard but Amy's there to..." she began.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," I said, bluntly.

"Sam, it's been months and..."

"And I'm not ready." I finished for her. "End of story."

We continued the journey in silence.

                                                                                            ***

As soon as we got back to the house, I went up to my room like a shot. I didn't go straight to my homework, though, as Mariah had expected. I went to my wardrobe instead. I slid open my underwear draw and dug to the back of it.

I allowed myself to shed a single tear as I took out the razor.

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 A/N: So, what do you guys think? Love it? Hate it? Is it worth carrying on? All comments and feedback welcome. Especially votes. Votes make me smile :)