[6] Edited

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**Amira's P.O.V**

"You just need to remember how to get the slope and then you'll do fine with graphing," Mazin reassures, for what feels like the millionth time.

"Well I don't completely understand it, but I kind of get it a little bit better."

"Don't worry, you're doing really well so far," he praises, "You'll get the hang of it soon."

"Hopefully."

We were currently working on the slope formula and other math related things that just made my brain hurt. I do really well in school, but math is just really difficult for me. It didn't really help that I wanted to be an science teacher which required some math once in a while.

After school Mazin had driven me back to his house to tutor me. His little brother Abdi had went to the park with his father, while his big sister was out with some friends. I had met his mother who was kind enough to offer us some snacks while we worked on homework together. Although I didn't like Mazin, I had to admit he was really good at math. He was patient whenever I didn't understand something, helping me make sense of it. He was actually a pretty good teacher, not that I'd tell him that. I was a little on edge the whole time expecting him to call me names or maybe even hit me, but he never did. I was hesitant being alone with him in his room, but even I figured if he had wanted to hurt me he wouldn't do so with his mother downstairs.

"Thanks for your help," I say gratefully.

I may not like him, but he helped me out a lot today and I was extremely grateful for that.

"No problem," he says with a smile.

I don't return one, which makes his smile falter. He may have helped me with my homework, but I'm just waiting on him to go back to normal. I've learned that sometimes people don't change. I mean look at me, I may have lost weight and gotten more confident, but on the inside I was still the same insecure little girl that only knew how to get bullied. I was skittish, still expecting people to call me horrible names and physically hurt me just like before. But the physical pain was nothing compared to all the emotional pain they caused me over the years. I'd rather be beaten than hear all those nasty words they called me.

Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Disgusting.

Nothing hurt more than hearing those words thrown at me on a daily basis for many years. Not even the beatings hurt more than the words. Weird I know, but it's true. Even now I couldn't stop hearing them in my head whenever I was near someone who had bullied me, and believe me there were a lot.

"Are you okay?" Mazin asks, looking at me with concern.

No. Not concern. He doesn't care about me.

"Fine."

I don't want to spend any more time talking to him than I had to.

He sighs, "Amira I'm trying here. Let me please," he begs.

"Is this the correct slope?" I ask, gesturing to the next problem, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah it is," he sighs, "I'm trying to make things right," he begins again, "I'm so sorry. About everything. Please just let me apologize."

Suddenly he tries to grab my hand, which causes me to flinch back as I shrink back in fear. I cower on the floor, covering my hands over my head like I've learned to do over the years, and wait for him to start hitting me. I wait for the blows to come, for the insulting taunts that hurt worse than any beating I could ever get. I wait and I wait, but they never come. I hesitantly look up to find Mazin standing there looking down at me with agony and obvious pain in his eyes as they start glistening with unshed tears.

Is he crying because I didn't let my guard down and he didn't get a good hit in before I fell to the floor?

"I t-think that's enough tutoring for today," he chokes out before turning around and locking himself in the bathroom.

I don't understand why he's being like this, but I don't hesitate in grabbing all my books and shoving them in my backpack before heading downstairs. I silently wave at his mother, unable to form any words because of what I just witnessed.

What has gotten into Mazin?

**Mazin's P.O.V.**

She was afraid of me. I've never seen that much fear in anyone's eyes before and it was all because of me. The whole entire time I was helping her I noticed how uneasy she was around me, but I thought she was just uneasy being alone in a room with a guy. I didn't think it was because she was freaking scared of me.

I had tried apologizing and was about to just touch her hand comfortingly, but she thought I was going to hit her. That's how bad I had been. I had freaking hit a girl for years. Nobody deserves that, especially not a defenseless girl. Now she was afraid of me. I don't know what stung more. The fact that she was cowering on the floor because of me or whether she was confused as to why I was looking at her like that. The pain I had felt was unbearable. To know that I had caused her to be like that.

"Honey are you alright?" My mom calls out.

I'm about to tell her that everything is fine, when it just hurts too much and I need to talk to someone. So I let her in, hoping she can give me some good advice.

"Mom," I start out hesitantly, "W-what should you do if you hurt a girl badly? How do you get her to forgive you?"

I avoided telling her the full story. I don't want her to know what a monster her son used to be. My mom has always thought highly of me, even when I had started drinking a lot. Unlike everybody else she understood that I was just grieving the loss of my brother. I didn't want her to suddenly think of me as just some punk that had bullied an innocent girl for years. She wouldn't look at me the same again. I would probably just be a disappointment to her and I didn't want that. My mother' opinion of me meant a lot to me.

"Is this about the girl you were helping earlier?"

I blush, something I don't usually do, surprised that she figured out who it was about so quickly.

"Yeah, h-how did you know?"

"Well you're blushing, that's a dead give away. I knew she was your girlfriend," she teases, causing my cheeks to heat up even more.

"S-she's not my girlfriend ma!"

"That blush says otherwise. She may not be your girlfriend, but you want her to be."

"I wanted you to answer my question, not interrogate me!" I yell, unable to stop blushing.

My mom grins at me, "Sometimes simply apologizing isn't enough. You have to show someone that you're sorry, not just say it. Prove to her that you are genuine."

"How do I do that?"

"All you have to do is prove you're as serious about this as you say you are. It will all fall into place once you do that," she assures me with a smile, kissing him on the cheek and ruffling my hair before leaving my room.

My mom has always given me great advice, so I couldn't wait to follow her wonderful advice. I just hope that Amira took me seriously this time, because although I tried to deny it I think I kind of liked her. I've never felt this way about a girl before, so I really hoped she would forgive me.

Of course I had to start having feelings for the one girl who despised me the most. Just great.

Sorry for the late update, school has been keeping me busy. Hopefully I'll try to update faster! :)

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