Finding Happiness {BxB}

{1} WELCOME TO THE HELL I CALL MY LIFE

{1} Welcome To The Hell I Call My Life 

               Anxiety coursed through me as I walked into the school only to have everyone turn to gape at me. It was like a cliché scene from a movie, the main character walking into their high school only to have all the normal commotion abruptly stop due to their presence. Unlike a movie, the reason for the sudden attention was nauseating. I could hear the whispers, see their fingers pointing in my direction, and feel the stares boring into me as I trudged down the halls while keeping my gaze directed solely on my worn-out shoes. I fought the urge to run from the unwanted attention by squeezing my ratty textbooks to my chest and taking deep breaths in a useless attempt to calm my racing heart as I neared my locker. It was confusing, the way everyone treated me as if I was some weird science experiment escapee. It had been this way for as long as I could remember. People always gave me a wide berth as I navigated the halls. I had offended people, a lot of them it seems, by merely existing.

"Bryce!" My name being shouted caused me to flinch and fumble the textbooks I was carrying. As soon as I righted them in my arms I looked up, panic running through my veins like ice, as a few passersby laughed at my clumsiness. "What the hell happened to your eye?" My best friend Harper screeched again coming forward a step to grip the sleeve of my weathered jacket and yank me toward her, completely ignoring the way I visibly flinched. I saw the look of anger tinted concern filling her normally happy green eyes.

Recovering quickly, I reached out slapping a hand over her mouth. I watched as Harper's brows knitted together before she finally relaxed, I gave her a pointed look silently asking if she was finished yelling. I didn't want the extra attention that Harper's screaming would bring. Once she nodded, I slowly started removing my hand, her eyes stayed locked on my face roaming over every inch looking for injuries besides the obvious. I overlooked her scrutiny, turning to my locker which was covered in slanderous words and had various dings in the royal purple paint. Spinning the dial, I tuned out everyone else and focused on exchanging my books, dropping the ones for my later classes and grabbing the ones that I would actually require for my first few. Once I was finished and I could no longer put off dealing with Harper I softly shut my locker and turned back to face her. She was watching me intently, looking like a predator ready to pounce, I swallowed the lump building in my throat. Although sporadic and intense, Harper was harmless.

"Did she do that?" Harper finally asked, unable to stand the silence anymore. Ignoring her question, I turned to survey the halls, they were quickly becoming empty, meaning we would be late to class if we didn't start heading that direction now.

"We should go to class." I voiced my thoughts completely dismissing her question. I pushed the guilt I felt at seeing the hurt flitter across her usually happy face, away. I didn't mean to upset her, or anyone else for that matter. Sadly, that never stopped it from happening. Hurting people was all I seemed to be good at.

"Bryce." Harper's voice was nothing more than a gentle plea, as she reached out to touch my shoulder in hopes I would finally explain what was happening to me. I flinched even at the simple touch, quickly shrugging her hand off as though it burned me. I hated it when people touched me, I hated it worse than anything.

"Harper please," I begged, my voice momentarily breaking. Why couldn't she understand that I didn't want to talk about what happened? That no matter how many times I wanted to try and explain it in a way she would understand, she would never truly grasp it. She was raised differently, she was taught differently. She would never comprehend anything about the life I was forced to endure. She shouldn't have too, I never wanted to expose her to such a hellacious lifestyle.