The Beginning of the End

After they all left, that was when I felt it was safe to move. I sat up, too early, and felt intense pain on my sides. My face stopped hurting but definitely not my ribs. I touched them gently and soon regretted it. "Oh my god," I groaned, crawling to get my book bag.

It took me nearly half an hour to get home. The pain was just that overwhelming. When I finally walked in through the door, I listened for any noises. "Hello?" I tested. "Good she's not home," I sighed.

Mustering up all the strength I could, I ran to my room, despite the feeling of my body screaming back at me. Hot tears ran down my face as I collapsed onto the bed.

What the hell did I do to deserve this? Am I a bad person or something? I got beat up, and no one tried to help me out. What is wrong with people here? Why couldn't I just go back to West Plainfield?

I whimpered, taking out Erik's guitar pick that was sitting on the bedside table next to my bed. A faint hint of a smile formed on my face.

It was two weeks before Valentine's Day. Erik just asked this girl named Tina to be his valentine and she said yes. Overly happy, he asked his dad to help him find her a present.

He came over to my house the day before February 14 and showed me a blue heart shaped guitar pick. By that time, Erik was already learning how to play guitar.

The next day at school, Erik skipped to Tina and smiled at her. She looked at him strangely and then told him that she found another person to be her valentine. He was really sad but lucky fifth grade me was there to cheer him up.

He felt better about the girl ditching him but he was going to keep the pick. I know, crazy right? Then again, Erik is many things physics could never explain. He decided to keep it for whichever reason, he never told me. Then he gave me the guitar pick and I felt like he was giving his world to me. He loves this thing. Absolutely loves it.

I miss him. I want to go back home. This isn't home. This is Hell. I'm just a visitor that no one wants. Home is where people are nice to me and where people know me. This isn't home.

I woke up the next morning too early for my liking. The sun wasn't up in the sky when I woke up. I sat up, trying to stretch. That was a very horrible idea! My stomach started hurting so bad.

I hoped a nice hot shower would numb the pain. I went to experiment with my idea. I walked out of the shower, feeling slightly better despite feeling intense pain on my sides. I looked into the mirror and nearly screamed.

There were bruises on my face. There were black and blue spots that I sure as hell did not see yesterday. I ran into my room, looking through the make-up bag mom bought me last Christmas. Inside, I found the concealer.

Furiously and as best as I could, I applied the nude color to my face. The bruises slowly faded away after I used a little less than half of the bottle.

Sighing, I blow dried my hair and changed into an over-sized 'Walk For Breast Cancer' shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. I walked down to the kitchen hoping mom wasn't there. Who was I kidding? She always wakes up at around 6:30 am.

She heard my footsteps and smiled at me. "Hey honey. Do you want any breakfast?"

I tried my best to hide my face. "No mom. I'm going to school. Love you!" I ran out of the house as fast as I could and ran some more just to make sure she wasn't following me. Okay, I am getting too paranoid here.

I looked around me, trying to find something to do before I had to head off to school. Surprisingly, I found a park straight ahead. I sat down on an empty slide, enjoying how nice the quiet was.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw mystery g-I mean Gerard heading towards my direction with a guy way taller than him. I tensed up. I do not want to see this kid right now! Luckily, for me, they made a left and walked away, not noticing me.

I sat there not thinking about anything. I just sat there. That was when I realized how extremely late I was for school! Crap!

I started running, seeing no one else in the hallways. I am so going to get detention. This is not good! I ran again, passing classrooms and bathrooms. The guidance counselor's office caught my eye. Stopping, I read the plaque on the wall. ‘Mrs. Saunders Office.’

Deciding to take a chance, I knocked on the door. Her mellow voice told me to come in. I did so and closed the door behind me. "Dear, is something wrong? You should be in class right now you know," she asked, looking at me. How would she know something's wrong with me?

I sat down and looked at her. She looked really young, I would assume in her early 20's. I liked how her black hair was slightly wavy but not curly.

"You know," she began, "If you're afraid to confide in me, please don't. There are no cameras here. I promise I only want to help. I won't tell another living soul what you've told me today, if you decide to. If you're nervous, begin with the basic info."

This isn't awkward. "Okay...Well I'm Lillian Summers. I'm half Vietnamese from my mom and half Scottish from my father. He left before I even knew him. I truly hope I never have to see him or I'll hurt him for hurting my mom. He chose a stupid gold digger over an overly caring woman. Whatever. This place isn't like West Plainfield. I'm never going to make friends." Why should I tell her I got beat up from a person in this school anyways? It isn't worth it.

She sighed and re-arranged her papers. "It sounds to me that you have some pent up anger that you're never going to be able to release unless you meet your father. If you could only learn to let go and forgive him for what he's done. No one is perfect after all. I can tell you West Plainfield is much different from Belleville. Just go home today. I can write you an excuse note. Just talk to your mom okay? I promise you'll feel tons better."

I nodded and grabbed my book bag. Before walking out the door, I smiled a thank you to her. I continued walking in the hallway until I was out on the school's property. There was a huge tree on the side of the grass. I walked over to it and rested my head on my knees that squeezed themselves against my chest. That was when I started to cry.

I hate crying. It makes me weak and vulnerable. It makes people think they can hurt me just like that. The hell?! I hate it here. I hate myself right now. I sound like an annoying little crybaby. Still, why didn't these tears just stop?

I heard the rustling of jeans rubbing against each other. At this point, I don't care anymore. If it was that athlete, he could finish the job right now. Maybe I'll get hurt so bad I lose my memory.

He moved my hair away from my ear. I could tell it was a guy. His touch was too rough to be a female's touch. "Are you going to be okay?" he whispered.

I turned my head to the side. Oh, it's Gerard. "Leave me alone," I whispered my voice breaking. I failed at pleads.

He continued on like I wasn't crying. "Where were you? You missed four periods."

You would think that I would've stopped crying by now right? No, I couldn't. The fact that someone else was here watching me cry made me want to cry even more. "I know. I had stuff to do," I managed to say clearly.

He sat down next to me, not saying anything. I shook my head, hoping he would go away. Probably because of sympathy, his arm wound its way around my shoulders and he pulled gently so that my head was cradling against his chest.

I should have told him to get off me and to leave me alone. But I didn't. It felt so nice to be comforted that I just let myself drift away from my troubles, even if it was for a little bit of time.

"Sorry Gerard, I have to go. See you around." I pushed him off me and grabbed my bag.

He looked helplessly confused. "What? Oh, okay Lilly bean. Bye I guess."

I waved and walked in the direction of what is now my home. Was I hallucinating or did Gerard call me "Lilly bean"? No one and I mean no one calls me that but Erik.

That tall and gentle jerk. I miss that kid. When would I be able to go back and visit him? Mom seems content with being in this stupid and dangerous town. I swear, as soon as I turn 18 and I have a car, I'm going back to Erik. Being away from my best friend for three years isn't fair at all.

I finally kicked open the front door to get into the house (more like open it with my key). I slipped out of my sneakers and jumped onto the couch. Right now, I really needed to talk to mom. She's at work though and I have a couple of hours to kill. Sleep it is!