Breathe Me

1. The Tutor

Charlie's P.O.V.

My bags lay everywhere across my room. My step-dad and I just moved for a fresh start. It's a small house, two story with a basement. My clothes are all over the floor, none of my stuff is unpacked. No room decor, no nothing. My eyes are closed but I remember the way my room was when I fell asleep. My comforter is wrapped around my body like a cocoon, giving me a good reason to not want to get up.

I open my eyes, slowly moving, testing my body to see if I can handle getting up. I move my arm to push back the covers with a wince and a small yelp. Luckily my step dad isn't home to hear my pain, he'd already left for work. If he was here for the cries of pain I was letting out, he'd freak. Not in the caring dad way. He'd flip out as in yell at me, call me a wimp along with other much more explicit names, then maybe throw me around a little more for fun. Toughin' me up a bit, as he'd say.

With a deep breath, I slide to my feet, feeling every prick of pain in my body full forced. My face contorts and twists as a hissing noise emits from my mouth. Using what little strength I had in my body, I move towards the bathroom. Bruises and scars cover my horrendously skinny figure. My collarbones stick out more than normal people due to my body being strained so much constantly and a lack of a good amount of food. All in all, I'm fragile but at the same time, tougher than most. I handle a lot without getting destroyed, but it's taken a toll on me, that's obvious.

Turning away from the mirror and my disheveled state, I twist the dial on the shower to the red section and get in before it even warms up. Cold showers aren't really my thing, but I don't have time to wait for the temperature to rise, I have to have time to walk to school and I cannot be late on my first day at a new school in this town. I'm nervous on so many levels for today. If I can stay away from the attention, I'll be alright. My goal for the day: no panic attacks.

Quickly scrubbing myself of the memories of last night's beating, I begin thinking about my outfit. When I say that, you probably think that means I really care about what I wear. I don't. I'll probably just wear the usual, jeans and a sweatshirt so no one can see the canvas of colors that is my skin. My step-dad usually stays away from hurting my face unless he's really angry, he doesn't want anyone noticing and us having to move towns yet again.

I get out of the icy water, wringing out my light brown hair with my ratty old towel. I have to practically toss boxes upon boxes around my room looking for any sign of clothing. When I finally locate a a dark hoodie and some gray sunny jeans, I have to jump into them and take off sprinting with my school bag, downstairs and out the door. I'm one of those people who, even if I have time, does not eat breakfast. I would if we had anything remotely appealing in this damned house, but we don't.

My shitty earbuds play All Time Low as I run to school as fast as my legs can carry me. It's that time of fall where it's still icy in the mornings, hot in the middle of the day, and once again, icy in the evenings. So I'm freezing even in my oversized hoodie. With my small figure, I can't stand the cold. Even when it seems warm, I'm probably still cold. Like, in the summer when there's constantly air conditioning in every building, I'm turning blue. The cold just seeps down into my bones.

I make it to the school just as the first bell sounds, signaling for students to head to their classrooms.

"Excuse me?" I say towards the lady at the desk. She looks a little too happy for someone who's reading paperwork. The cheeriness in her voice annoys me.

"Charlie, I presume?" She blinks a few times, allowing a grin to creep onto her face. The women is probably in her late twenties. She's wearing a red and white polka dot dress with big and bright red ball earrings. Her hair is curled around her shoulders in tight spirals.