~~~~~~~~
I was not fortunate enough to have a repeat of last night. Meaning, a night free of any sort of communication with either my Mother or the man she was dating. In reality, my Mother slept with me man whenever he wanted in return for him to cover half of the rent.
It disgusted me.
However, compared to some greetings i have received, this one was not too bad.
By the time I had dragged myself home, it was about half past three. This was about the usual time I would arrive home, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.
The moment my shoe came into contact with the wooden floor boards, I was hauled inside by the front of my hoodie. Before I could even register what was happening, a fist collided with my face, splitting my lip. A soft groan omitted me mouth, and just as my vision began to focus, the same, terrible force slammed into my stomach, forcing me onto my knees.
“You fucking shit! The school rang and said you fucking walked out! How many timed do I gotta tell you, you can’t just fucking do what you want?!”
This time, his knee collided with my stomach, and I groaned, wishing that Darren would stop.
“Why won’t you ever learn your lesson?” Punch.
My head snapped back, slamming into the door behind me, and I knew that it was bleeding.
“Answer me, you fucking shit!”
“I- I-“ No words left my mouth, for they couldn’t. Not when the next forceful blow was delivered to my side.
“Answer me!” He yelled.
“I’m sorry.” I wheezed out of my cracked lips.
Darren grabbed the front of my hoodie, pulling me to my feet. Staring into my eyes, he glared at me with such an intensity I cringed. “Ugly shit.” He dropped me onto the ground and stalked off, leaving me on the floor.
It took me two minutes to cross the few meters separating me from my bedroom. Dizziness would overcome me, and I would have to cease moving. Disgusted at how vulnerable I was, I finally drew myself up and stumbled into my room. Barely managing to place the chair under the door behind me, I collapsed onto my bed in pain.
It wasn’t long before the sleep I had long since evaded crept up on me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I held my hand out. The man I was playing against glared at me, but not without reluctantly handing over four crisp hundred dollar notes. It certainly payed to be a good gambler. As surprising as it may seem to some, I only started to get into gambling because I needed money.
My Mother wouldn’t pay for food for me, and we were minutes away from being evicted. So, as I was tipsily shuffling around the neighbourhood, I came across a warehouse where people came to do illegal gambling.
After watching, I started against some other non experienced people, and started to win slight amounts. Sure, I lost a few hundred, but for every hundred I lost, I seemed to gain three. Eventually, it got to the stage where I had acquired a talent for the game, and rarely lost.
The money I earned usually payed off most of the rent, as Daren rarely coughed up more than twenty bucks a week, despite the sickening ‘agreement’ with my mother. The rest went towards drugs and other similar substances.
The atmosphere was tense, thick. The air itself smelt terrible, it was stale and smelt like vomit and alcohol. Even the lighting was poor, and sometimes I found it hard to read my cards. But that was on my bad days. The walls were a crumbling cement, that appeared to be about as unstable and unpredictable as a fresh drug user.
I knew I had to be careful here, nearly everyone had a gun on them, and many of them responded negatively when they lost. However, I was not here for a social outing, and once I collected my money, I left.
Pulling my jacket tighter around my skinny body, I walked up the stairs to leave. I had acquired what I had originally come to obtain, and now my purpose was fulfilled, it was time for me to go.
I opened the heavy wooden door, after unbolting it multiple times. A man followed me up, no doubt to bolt it right back up the moment I stepped out. Once outside, the first thing I noticed was the smell. While the air couldn’t be considered ‘fresh’, it was a pure as pure could be in comparison to the mouldy, dank lingering stench from before.
Next was the cold. It seemed to bite into my flesh as easily as a dog would tear into a bone. Burying my hands into my pockets, I grasped the money in one hand, as if to ensure it wouldn’t disperse into thin air.
My hoodie and jeans, which clung to my legs like a child hugging a toy, did little to halt the cold from chilling me. I wasn’t sure of the time, I simply knew it was somewhere between four a.m and five a.m. I had woken up in a cold sweat sometime around midnight.
After relentlessly tossing and turning, trying to allow y body to rest, I had given up. Wiping the blood that had dribbled down my chin using a tissue, I washed my face. The last thing I needed was to walk down the street with blood spattered across my face.
The last place I wanted to go was back to the shitty trailer, so I ended up sitting against a wall for a while. No one passed me in the dwindling hours where night became early morning. However, it was the cold that drove me into action, making me pace back and forth.
Soon, it became too cold even for that, and my fatigue and hunger got to me. Walking around, I searched for the nearest cafe. It turned out to be the one I went to yesterday, as it was the most convenient.
I opened the door, and immediately felt the warmth heat me up. The smell of coffee and toast infiltrated my senses, and I walked up to the cash register. There were two other customers here, and I noted the time was seven a.m., well, going from the clock on the wall. After biding some time here, I would have to head off to school for an eight a.m. start. Joy.
The moment the young lady at the cash register saw my face, she gasped, dropping the cocoa powder in her hand. I recognized her from yesterday, Shay, I think it was.
Annoyance over took me at her reaction. I knew I probably had a bruise or two, but it annoyed me. It was people like her that made me grow out my fringe to cover half my face. People saw mars, scars, or anything, and were immediately judgemental. I would much rather the name ‘emo fag’ than what I really was.
Deciding I wasn’t in fact hungry enough to deal with gawking, I shot her a harsh stare before trudging towards the door. Just as my hand grasped the door knob, a voce called out to me.
“Wait!” I turned around, placing the voice to a face before actually seeing her. Willow.
“Alexander, don’t listen to her, come sit with me.” Today, her hair was in a side braid, but she her fringe stay out, framing her face nicely. The top she wore was black, and had the ‘My Chemical Romance’ logo on it. She wore the jeans tucked into the same combat boots, which hugged her legs up to just below her knee.
I hesitated. My stomach grumbled loudly, and Willow sighed. “Come on. Please. Keep me company.” She looked my at eye level, her gaze never once wavering or flickering to my obviously prominent bruises. I suppose it was that that convinced me.
I sighed, walking back to the table she was sitting at. I was aware of the few people in the cafe staring at me. I glared back at them, and they immediately looked away.
I slid into the seat, slightly sinking into the cushion, noticing it was the same one as the day before. I rested my back against the lightly cushioned back, letting out a small wince.
“What would you like?” Willow asked me, her dark eyes meeting my light ones without hesitation. I shrugged. I was not in a good mood (but then again I hadn’t been-without the use of drugs-for years), and seeing Willow had admittedly lifted it a bit, but not enough.
“How about toast?” She suggested. I nodded. I handed her a ten dollar bill I had on me, giving her s weak nod to thank her. While waiting, I buried my head in my hands, feeling the start of a massive headache coming on. However, by doing this, I was also blocking the view from the few customers who kept on trying to sneak looks at me. And god Lord, were they bad at it.
Soon, the headache kicked in, and I became painfully aware of every noise around me. I gingerly touched the top of my head where the pain was throbbing the most, and winced the moment I did. There would be no doubt fairly bad bruising there.
Without having to check, I knew there would be swelling on my lip, after all it had split. So instead, I lightly tapped my right cheek, anticipating pain. A slight throb, but nothing more. I continued like this, my fingers probing around my face, gently, trying to assess the severity of the damage. Once my fingers arrived at my left cheek, just below my eye, pain blossomed and I withdrew my fingers.
At that moment Willow swayed back to the table, her small, petite frame slid into the seat in a single movement. She pushed a steaming drink towards me, accompanied with two slices of raisin toast.
I opened my mouth to thank her, but my words seemed to lodge there. I made a ridiculous ‘cough’ sound, and Willow glanced up. She gave me a sweet smile, which, strangely enough, appeared genuine.
“No problem.” She told me, grabbing one of the pieces of toast and biting into it.
I grabbed the drink, my fingers losing the remaining feelings of frost, and I raised it to my lips. It hovered for s split second, before I tilted it back, drinking a decent sized gulp. The creamy liquid burned down my throat pleasantly.
The coffee was strong, but the sweetness covered most of the bitterness. However, i quite enjoyed the combination of both, and took another sip.
My ravenous stomach growled impatiently, so I appeased it by hesitantly taking a nibble out of the toast. Then another, three in total. Equivalent to a decent bite. The moment I ate it, the painful feelings in my stomach started to disperse.
Not really concentrating, I felt shocked when I opened my mouth to take another bite, to be met with a tiny piece left. Once I finished, Willow looked at me for a long, hard, calculating moment. For a moment, I wanted to avert my line of vision from the intensity of her stare. I would say it was almost as intimidating as my own.
“You ready to go to school?” Willow asked me, obviously ignoring the curiosity dancing in her mind. I was glad she didn’t ask though. Because then I would walk away from her, fast, and not look at her again.
Instead, I gave her a small nod of confirmation, and we both shuffled out of the seats. As I stood, I felt a wave of dizziness seize all rational thoughts. My hand grabbed the top of the booth, steadying myself. Once it passed, I took a deep breath, feeling the warm air circulate through me for one last time.
“Oh, and here.” I turned, to find Willow holding out her hand. IN her palm lay a bundle of silver coins. I shook my head, wanting her to keep the change.
“No. It’s not mine. I don’t need it, take it.” She persisted. Somehow I could tell she was serious, so I held my hand out and she dropped the cold coins into my palm. Sliding the coins into my pocket, I ventured outside, glad to feel my headaches subsiding.
Willow didn’t lag behind me, or skip in front. She walked next to me, placing one foot in front of the other, as if she was balancing on some unseen rope. She was one strange girl. But then again, she was also one of the only girls that had talked to me willingly since it happened.
I didn’t really think of all that much while we both walked to school. I didn’t feel uptight, or awkward, which was unusual for me. However, as we arrived at the school gates, I paused, hovering slightly. I knew that if Willow walked in with me, she would be made a victim, just like me.
Willow noticed I stopped, and she pivoted.
“What’s up?” She asked, cocking her head to her left. I glanced down, not knowing how to reply.
“Come on, we are gonna be late!” Willow motioned for me to follow by a simple head movement. I shook my head, not wanting to force upon unwanted attention her. Willow seemed fragile, but somehow tough at the same time. Even so, she didn’t deserve it.
“What?-You not goin’ to school today?” She asked me, hand on her hip. I opened my mouth, but was unable to break my silence.
“For goodness sakes! Hurry up!” Willow took a single step towards me, grabbed my elbow lightly, and led me behind her. My eyes widened, and I tried to jerk my arm away from the shock. However, Willow had a firm grip, and I knew she wouldn’t hurt me, so I let her pull me next to her.
She released my elbow once I was walking next to her. Neither of us spoke a word, however, the air between us was light, breathable. We walked in a companionable silence, Willow walking confidently, chin jutted forward. Her entire demeanour screamed ‘I know who I am, and you can’t tell me else wise, because I won’t listen either way’.
As for me, I walked with my head stooped low, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. I knew without looking that everyone was staring at the two of us the moment my converse clad feet and her boots made contact with the linoleum floor.
Whispers started up, and I slowed my pace immediately, trying to get Willow to speed up, thus making it appear we had not arrived together. Willow knew what I was doing, and turned around, linked her arm through mine, and led me to my locker.
I heard the collective gasp echo around the corridor. I felt uncomfortable, and out of depth, with her arm latched onto my elbow.
“Get your stuff.”
It took me a moment to process what she said. I glanced up at her, my eyes meeting those dark pools. I attempted to silently convey the message that I had gum coating my lock.
“Hurry up, I’ll meet you here in a minute, I gotta put my stuff away.” She informed me. I sighed, facing me lock. I would have to face it sooner or later. Grimacing, I inspected the lock, gingerly attempting to move it around, to see if there was any gum on it.
My blue eyes widened, the lock was clean. I snuck a glance through my fringe to see Willow, who was drumming a beat on her thigh while unlocking her own lock a few meters down. That girl.
I pulled the metal door open after dialling in the three numbers required, succeeding on the second attempt.
My back pack was just where I left it, however my small pencil case and writing book weren’t here. I vaguely remembered dropping it on the floor here yesterday. Damn it! I mentally cursed. Anyone of those little shits could have their hands on it!
I slammed my locker door closed, not holding anything. I turned around, ready to stalk off. Instead, I crashed into Willow. Her eyes flew open in surprise, losing her footing. Her arms flew up, as if trying to grasp something to halt her fall. Instead, she dropped her books, which all dropped to the ground, papers floating around her. She stumbled backwards, falling backwards.
My hand shot out and caught her, pulling her abruptly back up. She halted in mid air, before crashing into my chest. My hands steadied her elbows, and I stepped back immediately, after knowing that she would be fine. Her alabaster cheeks took on a hue of scarlet.
“I’m so clumsy, sorry.” She mumbled. I adverted my line of sight, feeling my cheeks light up as well.
“Look! The faggots blushing! Thinking about your faggot boyfriend? Wait- you couldn’t even get one!” A voice called out from behind me. Instead of reacting at the really lame insult, I opted for the usual option of staying quiet. I silently bent down to pick up the books Willow dropped, on my knees.
I gathered the papers, my gaze hovering slightly longer over one page, where she had started s sketch of a person with the face cupped in their hands. The woman’s hair fell around their face in a tangle. It appeared to be unfinished, but was pretty good so far.
The picture was taken out of my hands along with the other papers I had collected.
“Th-thanks.” I glanced up at her, surprised at her tone of voice. It wasn’t the usual sound of syrup being poured. Through the hair that fell over her dark eyes, I could see she was angry. I frowned, wondering what was bothering her. Her eyes met mine, and I raised an eyebrow in question.
She shook her head, quickly standing up.
“Oh, this is yours.” She told me, handing over my missing book and pencil case. I tried to force out a ‘thank you’, but once again I just froze.
“It’s ok.” She replied, as if knowing what I was trying to say. Communicating with her felt as natural as bees collecting pollens from flowers.
We both headed off to class, me lagging slightly behind her, head bowed. As it turned out, first class was History, which I could guarantee would be a bundle of laughs. At me, that is. The History teacher particularly hated me, and he picked on me every chance he got.
Lining up outside the classroom door, I started to feel very uneasy. Everyone was giving me stares, and I didn’t to advertise the purple mark on my face by meeting there gazes with a glare. My head ache returned, and my feet felt light and unsteady underneath me. The air prickled at my skin, feeling slightly too warm, but at the same time I felt like I’d been dowsed in icy water.
“Do you mind holding this, please?” I turned to my left, and saw Willow holding her books out to me. I grabbed the small bundle of books, and she bent down to fix the lace on her boot. Whispers started up immediately, and I knew that this small interaction had confirmed any of the gossip mongers beliefs. I could only hope that the kind hearted girl next to me would not feel the repercussions of it.
As Willow straightened, I handed her back her books.
“Thanks,” then she added “Teacher’s here.”
I nodded, but couldn’t shake the strange feeling growing inside me. I felt like I almost could have been any normal high school kid. Almost.
The teacher, Mr Rosenberg, unlocked the classroom door. His hair was resembled a mixture of both salt and pepper, due to the greying streaks through it. He stepped inside, holding the door open and students walked in casually, chatting. But not before turning to me and saying “Alexander, you will be sitting in the front today.”
I inwardly groaned. This would be fun. A girl started to talk to Willow, but I didn’t hear what was said. I saw Willow smile, and nod. The both of them walked into the classroom, and I hesitated, considering just leaving now.
Not letting my annoyance show up on my face, I trailed in the classroom slowly, to find everyone had found a seat. Without any regards to anyone else, I sat in the front row, next to the window at absolute left side of the room. The window was open, and I breathed in the air, feeling my claustrophobia ebb away a little bit.
I placed my head in my hands, staring outside.
“No, we definitely won’t be having any of that. Alexander, move in front of my desk.” The teacher instructed. I glanced up, and saw the middle aged man smirking superiorly. I exhaled, reluctantly swiping my belongings off the table, and walking towards the middle of the row. Which, coincidently, was directly in front of the desk for the teacher.
Well this was fucking great.
I slid into the seat, and knew I was alone in the entire row.
“Take your hood off!” Mr Rosenberg demanded, standing right in front of my desk, hands gripping the ends of it.
I did as he asked, keeping my gaze low.
“Now, where are your text books?” He demanded. I knew without looking that everyone was staring. Whispers threw themselves around the room, followed up with giggles and snorts of amusement.
I shrugged, still not looking up into his uncaring, cruel face.
“That’s not an answer! Explain where they are. And look at me!”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. He just reminded me too much of Kevin, my Mother’s previous boyfriend a few before Darren. He had definitely left his mark on me, and Mr. Rosenberg was too close to triggering certain memories the tinkered on the edge of staying hidden and being flashed before my eyes.
I was about to stand, about to leave the class room, but last nights reminder still hurt more than I would let on. I couldn’t afford the school to contact him again. My hands began to shake, and I tried to fight the hyperventilation that I could feel arising in my chest.
I heard a chair scrape against the linoleum floor boards, and I realized it was mine.
“Sit down, boy!” Mr Rosenberg shouted. “DO you want me to call your parents?”
I didn’t respond, my hands clenching in anger. He was actually blackmailing me! Little shit!
“Hmm, I thought so. Sit down.”
“Maybe the faggot can’t sit, his ass is too sore!” Someone called out from the back. The class erupted in cruel, malicious laughter. Fury welled up in me, and all my muscles tensed up. Instead of responding, I slowly sat down.
“Where is your book? Care to provide me with an explanation?” The teacher pressed, completely ignoring the previous comment.
I opened my mouth, but words lodged in my throat. I couldn’t speak. It didn’t help that the extra stress triggered a chemical reaction in my body which resulted in my left eye clouding over. This was supposedly an after affect of the ‘accident’.
Guilt coursed through me, and I closed my eyes. Something like that wasn’t something that I would ever get over.
“That’s it. I’m calling the principal.”
“Wait!” A voice called out. everyone seemed to stop talking in that instance. All heads, including my won turned towards the source. Willow.
“His book,...I lost it! Alexander let me borrow it when I couldn’t find mine, but then I lost his...but I found mine this morning, and he didn’t want to inconvenience me, so he told me I could get him another after school...he didn’t want to get me into trouble, that’s all! That’s why he wasn’t answering!”
Mr Rosenberg raised his eyebrows. “Willow, I’m surprised at this, I didn’t think you would have lost our book in the first place, your usually so organised.” The teacher paused, as if contemplating whether or not this could possibly be true. That a good student like Willow would associate with someone like me, a suicidal emo fag.
The teacher turned to me. “Is this true, Alexander?”
I nodded, shocked that she would stand up for me like this, again.
“In that case, you should tell me before it gets that far. Am I understood?”
I nodded again, sitting back down in my seat. Despite the ‘fight’ being supposedly over, the vision in my left eye was still unclear, and I couldn’t make out the outline of anything precisely. It was as if the world was a water colour painting, and all the lines had been brushed into shades of colours- with no start or end.
I focused on my breathing, knowing that my breathing would have to slow down before my heart rate would decrease. And once this happens, my vision would usually clear up. Well, experience had proved this before. So, for now, I would simply pretend I could see the wooden tables, lines up in crooked rows and the white board, placed in the centre of the from wall. I would pretend I could make out the graffiti carved into the desks, and could see the sloped hand writing that would surely be written on the board.
For now, I would pretend.
Something I have had to do most of my life.
Pretend.