My Mirror's Image

Chapter 4

Sitting at a bench, I munch my sandwich with an aching jaw. I was right. As soon as Mr A left the group alone, they went on a hunt to find me. To be honest, it was probably the worst beating I've had so far. My ribs hurt. I think he did more then just bruise them this time. I refuse to go to the office though, I mean, she see's me enough as it is. If I keep coming as often as I usually do, she'll eventually tell the principle, and then the principle will call my father, and then my father will shout at me.

I really wish Mum was here.

Taking another bite from my sandwich, I try to chew carefully. My jaw is extremely sensitive since Matt decided to give my face a good beating. Although, it was strange that Matt actually stopped pummelling me. He was so mad that at the time, I expected him to beat me until I passed out.

But... This time, Josh had stopped him. He had actually physically pulled Matt off of me. Josh was the kid that had looked ashamed when Mr A scolded him. Of course, when Matt was pulled off, he started screaming at Josh, threatening to "Beat you up if you try to pull me off again"... Those were his exact words.

A shadow blocked the sunlight I had been, just a minute ago, lapping up.

"Hey,"

Josh?

Pausing, I stare up at him, confusedly. What is he doing here?

I swallow, the bread soggy in my mouth.

"Hi..."

He looks as if he wants to smile, but then his expression switches to a frown; eyebrows creasing.

"I'm going to go eat my lunch somewhere else..." I stand with a wince; wrapping up my meal.

"Wait!," Josh grabs for my arm, but I flinch away before he can reach me, "Look, I just... I just want to apologise."

Apologise? For what? Making my life more miserable than it already was?

"You don't need to say anythi-"

"Yes, I really do have to say something. I'm sorry for not trying to stop him, I really am. And- and I know that me apologising won't really do anything, but I'll try to get him to go easier. And I'll... I'll..."

He ran out of words. He looks so guilty and ashamed, but what can I do? I'm the victim. He didn't say that he'll help me stop Matt, no, he said he'll try to help me.

Big difference.

Pursing my lips, I stare. Is he being genuine? Or is this some kind of cruel joke that ends in me unconscious on the floor?

"So... You're apologising? That's it?"

"... Well, I- I um, yeah?"

Apologising won't do anything. Mum would be appalled if I refused his apology, but should I except it?

"If you really are sorry, then stop. I didn't do anything to you, or Matt, or any of the other boys. So if you really are sorry, stop beating me."

Turning I walk away, lunch in hand.

That's probably the most I've ever spoken to anyone before. Well, I use to talk a lot, but that was before Mum died.

Throwing my half eaten sandwich away, I head to class. If I get to my class earlier, by the time Matt comes in, the teacher is already there which means that Matt can't touch me.

****

The rest of the day went like all the others. We only have three lessons after lunch, so I don't usually get beaten as there is always a teacher in the classroom.

After school, I don't stick around for long. Mum would have though. She was one of those parents that makes friends with everybody and spends a good hour or so chatting to some random stranger.

I don't stick around though. I have no friends and I'm not very good at making any either. Everyone avoids me because they don't want to hang around the kid who always has a black eye, and they also don't want to become a target on Matt's hit list either.

Arriving home, Father's car was already parked in the driveway. I know for a fact that the left side of my face is swollen and possibly an array of colours. Father doesn't seem to notice though, which is a good thing I guess. But then again, it only proves that my own Father can't stand to look at my face.

Heading up the stairs, the distant buzz of the football match on TV was the only noise that I could pick up. Father is probably not eve watching the game; just staring.

Throwing my backpack on the floor, I quickly change my shirt, dumping the stained one by my bedroom door. Mum would be so disappointed in me, probably wouldn't even of had the heart to scold me; just shake her head and walk away.

Falling onto by bed, my body aches with bruises and strained muscles. I'm so tired, but my eyes do not want to shut, instead they stray to the mirror in the corner, the gold edging glinting in the small amount of sunlight that has managed to creep past my blinds.

Standing him a sigh, I trudge to the mirror, gazing at my beaten body. My skin no longer has its olive tone, and my hair sticks in clumps from whatever Matt threw on me today... I don't even remember what it was.

Bruises litter my body, some peeking from the edges of my shirt. If only I could magically make them disappear, say a few words and then, poof... everything would be just the way it was before I met Matt and before I had even moved to a different school.

Sighing I stand, just taking everything in through my mirror. My room looks a little better now. I've cleaned it up a bit, rid the corners of dust and scrubbed the hard wood floor boards. Mum would be proud of me. I can just picture her standing in front of me with a smile on her face, her bright eyes shining.

Staring at the mirror, my reflection begins to look a little fuzzy. Frowning I reach out and wipe it a little with the hem of my shirt. I don't know if it's because I'm tired, but my reflection seems to be... Out of sync with me?

Peering closer, the glass becomes even foggier, all I can see is the shape of my outline with the colours blurring together.

I really don't think mirrors are supposed to do this.

Short chapter. Not edited. Please enjoy, love, comment or vote.