Breaking The Mirror [Edited And Complete]

School Bully

"Why aren't you at school?" He asks me accusingly.

"Sick, sir," I say easily, and limp close to the stairs where he's blocking my way. He notices my limp - hell, a blind man would notice my limp -- and eyes me suspiciously.

"What happened to your leg?" He demands, narrowing his eyes and looking pointedly at my right foot. He jabs his cane at it for good measure. I notice that the guy from room 333 is coming out of his room too, even though I'm all the way on the ground. He's coming down the steps. Lovely.

"Uh, fight again," I lie.

Why do I feel like the guy from apartment 333's footsteps are matching my speeding up heartbeat? And why am I even nervous? He's nice enough, if a bit caustic. He's at the top of the staircase that I'm standing at the bottom. But of course, he spots us and pauses before slowly coming down the rest of the way.

"Same street punks again?" Danny grunts at me. I blink. I'd nearly forgotten he was here.

"Yeah," I nod, gulping.

"Better get that checked, or you'll end up like me," Danny tells me. The he notices him. "Oh, Mr. Andrews! I hope everything's right with the apartment."

The guy from apartment 333, Mr. Andrews, nods curtly.

"Good, good," Danny smiles, "Kids today, eh? Keeps getting into fights over nothing at all. It'll get him killed. That bruise is a nasty one, Jayden."

Mr. Andrews narrows his eyes and Danny walks past me, dragging his unused cane with him. I keep my eyes on the ground as I start up the stairs, wincing with every step on my right foot. I'm going up and he's coming down, and when we're at the same point, he grabs my arm to keep me from going any further. I flinch a bit and stop, like I have a fucking choice or something.

"You said it was a school bully," He hisses.

Oh, fuck.

I really need to stick to one story, don't I? You'd think after all these years I'd know the number one rule to lying. I sort of tense a bit and look at him, forcing a smile onto my face. "Heh, yeah. That bruise is. I thought you meant the split lip, sorry."

He lets go of my arm and looks at me, his face twisted with something akin to disgust. No wait, I think that's really disgust.

"Stop skipping school, brat," He snarls at me as he walks away, "I'll call a fucking truancy officer on you."

How nice of him.

-

The weekend passes fast. I spent Friday inside relaxing and trying my damndest to heal myself with my nonexistent therapeutic powers. It didn't work. I got a decent bandage though. Alfred tossed me a few bucks, probably from selling drugs, so I could get one. He seems sorry. He's always sorry after episodes like this.

Saturday and Sunday were like blurs. I spent them mostly sleeping. I almost miss the guy from apartment 333 -- Mr. Andrews. Weird. It doesn't fit him. Mr. Andrews. And missing someone's company doesn't fit me. I'm used to loneliness.

On Monday, I force myself to get up and get ready. I limp around, my leg hurting worse then before, before collapsing and deciding to maybe wait for tomorrow. I drag myself outside on Tuesday and limp down the stairs, grasping the rail with my hands as I go, trying not to tumble. It doesn't work.

I start to fall forward but a suddenly I'm choked as my collar is pulled back, saving me from the fall. Coughing slightly, I look at my rescuer and see it's Mr. Andrews, his dark eyes blazing at me from behind that curtain of onyx hair. It's wet, like he's just taken a shower. Why am I noticing this when he's glaring a hole in my head? I nearly flinch at the intensity of those eyes, the harshness in that glare.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Andrews," I say softly, bowing my head. I can't meet those eyes. I can't explain why. It almost hurts to just look at him. I just... I just don't understand it.

"What really happened?" He snarled, not letting go of my collar and instead shifting it to the front to pull me closer threateningly. "Tell me now."

"Bully, sir," I reply evenly, "And a bunch of guys on the street got me pretty good. I told you before, sir."

He scowls and lets me go before walking down the stairs the rest of the way. Walking away again. He seems to do that to me a lot. Not that I really care, he's only a neighbor after all. A confusing enigma of a neighbor, but nothing more than that. Just another person to hide this from. He turns back to me and sneers.

"Come on," He nods towards a parked car. It's nothing special, just an old orange Ford that looks older than I am. I blink and look at him questioningly. "I'm taking you to the hospital to get that break of your wrapped up properly."

"Wha -? No, no sir, I can't -"

He yanks the passenger door of his car open and his sneer deepens, "Get in."

I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. Every fiber in my being yells at me, telling me I shouldn't do it. My mind is screaming at me to remember the last time I got into someone's car like this, to just fucking remember...

But I can't stop myself. I find myself limping forward and before I know it, I'm in his truck and he's cranking the engine. It rattles beneath my smoothly, and I keep my hand near the door handle just in case I need to jump out. We start riding down the road, and a million more questions about this man start popping into my head. Like, why is he bringing me to the doctor? Why do the way his eyes gaze at me make my heart clench and my mind freeze? Why's he being so nice, and yet incredibly rude, to me?

"Fucking brat can't even take care of himself," He mutters darkly, stepping on the gas pedal. I clutch at the seat and bite my lip. I hate cars. Why did I ever agree to this? Why did I get into this fucking truck? Am I an idiot?

Only when we pull up to the medical center do I realize where we are. Where we've been headed this entire time. A hospital. The last time I was in one was when I was being born. When my mother died. I'm a fucking idiot. A hospital. I've got gashes on my back, bruises all over my body, and so much evidence of my rather brutal physical training that it could practically be confirmed.

When he gets out of the car, I don't. I stay there, tense and staring at the sign to St. Luke's Hospital. Mr. Andrews touches my shoulder and I flinch violently.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Am I crazy, or just plain stupid?

Both, perhaps?

And most importantly...

How am I going to get out of this?

~~

Alright, sorry for the long wait! Life has been a bit hectic lately with college going on, but I plan on editing another chapter tonight! Let's see if I can make it!

And just remember:
If you E V E R need to talk at any time, just message me! I'm here ^^