Care For Me Not, I'll Hurt You Too Much

You woke up the next morning and glance out your window to find the moving van gone from its spot in the driveway. The family car was in it’s place instead. Curious, you look up at the window across from yours to find it’s closed. The door was closed and the light was off, but in the early morning rays you were able to see that a dresser and a desk had been placed in the room sometime during the night. Boxes were scattered everywhere and everything was a mess. You wondered whether it was the boy’s room that you had seen earlier. From the looks of things, you definitely knew it was a teenager’s room. It was about as messy as yours, even with things still in boxes.

You close your window again and get ready for your usual morning rituals while preparing for school. Shower, brush your teeth, wash your face, check your bandages, re-apply where necessary, and finally dress in your usual long sleeves and dark colors to hide the discoloration in your cheeks and neck. If everyone was distracted by all the black, then they might not be able to really see the purple bruises around your neck, or the one hiding in your hair line. A cut had opened up near your neck, so you just slapped a band-aid on it and called it fixed. You never deserved any better treatment. You only got that in the hospital.

Your walk to school seemed longer that day, the simple thirteen blocks stretched on for forever as soon as you realized that for your first punishment of the day, you would have to face Gerard and Michaels.

Now, Michaels you could handle. You’ve had a chance to deal with her overreactions before, but Gerard was a whole new story. You’d have no idea how he’d treat you now. You had no idea whether he would even spare a glance at you. If he did, and he ended up staying at your tables and walking to your classes with you—you’d have no idea why anyone would ever do that—you still didn’t know whether or not he would ask you any questions on your health and wellness.

Your hands grew shaky from something other than the cold and your breath became ragged. When you reached Wilson St., where all the large buildings began to start, more and more people crowded around you. Although several of them were close enough to touch, no one bothered. Your personal bubble was still intact with everyone else. It just didn’t seem to work on the clueless…it just didn’t seem to work on him.

You reached school earlier than anyone else. The doors were barely opening and you could still see the janitor in the hallways, mopping up the night before’s mess. Instead of going in, you took a play from the ‘Bold Book’ and turned and walked into the park nearby instead. You sat on the same swings that you had the night before and pushed off. There were people walking by, but no one noticed the high school kid on the swings. You found the cold air flowing lightly around you comforting and slightly freeing. You dropped your mask and let a small smile play on your lips. You felt like a kid again.

Someone walked by and looked your way. You drag your feet in the ground and slide the damp earth beneath your feet around. Your smile drops, your heart races. They saw you.

The thought alone was so terrifying you didn’t dare stay around and find out how many more people caught you being completely foolish. You picked up your bag off the ground and nearly ran back to the school. You just walked extremely fast, because running would draw more attention to yourself. You’d rather be invisible inside than have everyone see you outside.

You ignored the janitor’s protests of you walking in with dirt on your shoes and went straight to your homeroom. Thankfully, no one was in there, although Michaels’ desk had a cup of steaming coffee on it, so you knew she was around. She may not have been in the room, but she was definitely around.

You walk straight to your table in the back, feeling a little freer now that there was no one there. You knew that wouldn’t last long though, knowing that as soon as someone walks through the door you’re going to freeze up and hide away in your protective shell some call a sketchbook. It was much too early for the morning announcements so you decided to look back through your old sketches, skipping over the few that had caused you misery yesterday.

You stared too long at some of the pictures you knew didn’t need any correcting and held your pencil in your hand too long. Your mind went blank and you suddenly found yourself on autopilot, simply sitting and waiting for others to show up. Your eyes grew heavy again and you found yourself falling into a very light sleep.

Even though you had laid down around midnight, you weren’t able to get any real sleep. It was just one of your usual nights, plagued by haunting dreams and nightmares. You saw accidents, you saw fists, you heard shouts and accusations, you saw faces, you felt tears in your eyes as you woke up the next morning…but like you said before, just another one of your usual nights.

You woke as soon as the bell rang throughout the school and came to find that there had been several more students that had come in since then. A blush colors your cheeks as you pull your head up from where it had been resting in the palm of your hand. You just hoped that you weren’t too noticeable whilst sleeping. You stared at the table as the principal droned on through the pledge of allegiance with more than enough lack of enthusiasm. Every now and then you actually saw a head turn in your direction, and without even admitting that they were looking at you, heat rises up your neck and onto your face.

Stop! They weren’t even looking at you! You can’t just assume that they were otherwise you’ll never be able to go anywhere!

You slap yourself inside your head for your assumptions. If you got any worse at that then you’re going to be one of those people with Agoraphobia. You’re going to be so scared to even walk out of your house or out of your room because you feel a million eyes on you all at the same time.

The next time you saw a head turn in your direction, you looked up to either challenge them, or to prove to yourself that you are no topic of interest to them. When you did though, your worst fears were realized. They were indeed looking in your direction, and they were, without a doubt looking at you. When you met their gaze though, both your heads turned away as quickly as the other one’s had. The heat doesn’t leave you cheeks and your head starts spinning.

Why were they looking?

You attempted to find a reasonable explanation for this bizarre occurrence, but came up empty. Instead, your overactive mind took off again.

They were probably checking to see if you were still alive. They were probably looking at you scars. Your hand shoots up to your neck, where there was a long thin scar barely turning pink, surrounded by yellow-green bruises. You close your eyes and attempt to inhale. Did they see the scars?

The heat from your face and neck radiates to your normally cold fingers and you can feel the sweat forming just on the nape of your neck. You suck nervously on your lip ring and chew your cheek for a while as you try to get your head to stop spinning from the sudden fear and embarrassment.

The intercom cuts out without you hearing the lunch menu. You’re not even sure whether or not they even said it. The room is quiet and your ears feel like their plugged because you can hear your own breathing clearly around you and hear the blood as it pulses swiftly though you ears.

“Where did he go?” You hear the people at the next table whispering to one another.

You supposed the person they were addressing made some type of non-verbal response, because the person spoke again, this time with a little more malice in her voice. “I bet Venton did something to him. Poor guy, he was made to put up with ‘em all day yesterday, and now look, he’s gone.”

The mention of your name repeatedly causes your ears to perk up and the blood to pulse faster through your head.

They were talking about you. They think you did something to that new boy Gerard.

Even though this hurt, you weren’t surprised. You always suspected people to think you were dangerous because of the way they always avoided you and made sure to never say anything to you, in fear of getting you upset. They must not have wanted to get killed by the evil person of Newark.

It wasn’t until you actually diagnosed their conversation that you realized that Gerard wasn’t there. Your eyes open slowly, and thankfully find that no one is looking at you. Several people are engrossed in their quiet whispers at their own tables, other are doing as you had done before…sleeping. Michaels was sitting at her desk, her flyaway hair attempted at being held back by a colorful bandana, and grading papers and large portfolios. You glance around, expecting to prove yourself wrong by spotting Gerard at another table, talking to new people that won’t seemingly ignore him.

You were wrong though. He wasn’t here at all. Where did he go?

Curiosity gets the better of you and you find yourself wondering. Was it me? Did I really do something to make him leave?

You dismiss that thought as foolish. Why would someone leave the school after just spending only one day with you? You’d understand if they’d moved to another table, or switched their classes, like others had done before…but the school? Where could he be?

After a while of pointless pondering you decide something.

It must have been your fault.