Save Our Sins

S.O.S. ~ Chapter 1

I used to be happy.

I  used to play with the other kids my age, stuffing each other's faces with carrots to see who can hold the most or riding out bikes down the hill and crashing into the trees at the bottom. I used to grab candy from one of my friends, only to share it with the others. I used to run home to my mom and tell my parents of the bruises and scars I got that day because I was having so much fun.

Key word was 'used to'.

Now I sit in my room, wallowing in my own pity while listening to depressing songs. My mother disappeared when I was seven, and my father blamed me for it. Over time I started to blame myself too. If you thought about it, I asked for too much. I was such an ungrateful child. All day,  everyday, my mother would be there to heal my new wounds and get me another toy. She was so selfless and so generous that she wouldn't dare say no to whatever I wanted.

And I could barely even mutter a 'thank you'.

When I hit high school, I started to get bullied by who I thought were my friends. They became the jocks and popular kids at the school while I stayed behind in the background. That's not what I wanted, but it was what I was used to, so I went with it. I was called multiple names and was pushed around. I've been locked in the bathroom for four hours, had a slushy dumped over my head, and was even tossed into the deep end of the pool.

I can't swim.

At least, not then. I learned pretty fast after that.

Eventually I was driven to the brink of insanity, and the only thing that could help me at that point was something sharp and painful.

I still do it to this day.

Speaking of this day, my father for fired from his job because of the many, many, many times he was late due to the hangover he earned from the previous night. After about two months of living off of what was supposed to be my college tuition, he finally found a job in a new and small town called Coleridge. That's where we are currently heading with our little to no luggage in the trunk of our old, rickety pick up truck. I was listening to music on full blast with my headphones on when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I paused my music and looked at my father. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, 'We're almost at our new home. Are you excited?'" He replied. I found it funny, how he could be a happy and proud father in  one minute but in the next, he refuses to be in the same room as me without giving me a blow to the head or two.

Or three...

"Oh, yeah. Sure." I tried to answer with enthusiasm, but I couldn't even put a smile on my face. He frowned at the realization.

"Look, son." He started, "I know things have been pretty rough on us since your mom passed away, but this is our chance for a new start. New people, new surroundings, new life. How about it kiddo?" I nearly laughed at the childish name.

I muttered a "Yeah, sure." And was about to put my headphones back on when he started again.

"You know, you should be more social. I bet if you started meeting people, maybe work out, and stop wearing such depressing clothing, then maybe you could finally get yourself a girlfriend." I flinched. Girlfriends were never on my 'to-do' list, mainly because it would mean I'd have to risk total embarrassment if she didn't like me back, but also because I've never had a crush on any girl before.