Will You be the One to Save Me?

I groaned as the satanic sound of my alarm clock jarred me out of my, for once, dreamless slumber. “I’m going to smash you,” I moaned as the click signaled the end of the alarm. Monday. The first day of school. The first day of my junior year of high school. Not like it would be any better than last year. Hell, it would probably be worse. I drug myself to the comfort of a warm shower, praying my father made it home safe last night. Wandering the streets of New Jersey, drunk, is never a safe thing to do.

When I stepped out of the shower, I heard a crash in the kitchen. “Dad?!” I flew down the steps to the small kitchen at the back of the house. I saw my father flying on the floor, face-down. He let out a groan. “Come on, Dad. I’ll help you to bed.” I staggered up the stairs with my father leaning on me. “Get some sleep. I have to go to school.” My dad was already asleep. I let a sigh escape my lips as I stepped into my usual attire of black skinny jeans and band-t. Looking in the mirror, I was disgusted by what I saw. A bland, pale face with dull grey-green eyes. Thin lips under a small nose made up her features. Quickly grabbing my eyeliner and shadow, I covered the circles caused by lack of sleep. Sighing again, I grabbed my bag and a cup of coffee before commencing the ten minute trek to school. It was a typical Jersey day: grey. It seemed to fit my mood though, like the world was feeling how I felt.

As that jail of a school approached, I saw a mob out front. ‘Great. That’s all I need. A fight before school fucking starts.’ I groaned and headed to the mob, the light breeze blowing my read-streaked black hair off my shoulders. “Fight! Fight!” the crowd droned on. ‘Shut up.’ As I weaved my way to the center of the crowd, I could tell that one of the jocks was beating up on someone. I just couldn’t make out who that person was. ‘Fuck this.’ I stepped into the circle and tapped the jock on the shoulder as the crowd grew as silent as the dead.

“What the fuck Anderson? On the first God damn day of school?” The jock I confronted was none other than Jackson Anderson, the captain of the football team and first class ass hole.

“You got a problem Collins?” ‘What did I get myself into?’

“Save this shit for later,” I grunted in as dark a tone as I could manage. Truth is, I was terrified. Anderson just smirked before slapping me.

“Bitch.” My head snapped around as I brought my knee up to connect with his groin. Anderson doubled over before reaching up and grabbing my hair, pulling me up to his eye level.

“Ah!” I clawed at his meaty hand. “Let fucking go of me!” The hulking football player simply cackled.

“As if, Collins. I’ll break your fucking arm.” With that he slapped me twice more. I felt my lip split under his class ring. My check burned. Yet, it wasn’t over. He wrapped his hand around my left wrist and twisted it behind my back, applying steady pressure as he pulled it farther and farther until I heard a sickening pop and pain shot through my body, blurring my vision. It was then I tasted blood, realizing I had bit my tongue. The crowd was cheering as Anderson threw me to the ground. Tears stained my pale cheeks as I cradled my arm, attempting to crawl away from the raging beast in front of me. Then I felt someone behind me. They put their hands on my shoulders as the savior bell rang. “I’ll deal with you two later,” Anderson sneered. I looked around for the other one Anderson was beating up. There was a pale, black-haired boy laying on the ground. A slender boy with thick rimmed glasses and sandy looking hair stood over him, helping him up.

“Hey,” a darker boy with extremely curly hair hovered in front of me. “We’re going to help you, just hang on.” Then he hoisted me into his arms as the boy with glasses aided the pale and dark. “Mikey? Your place?” The boy, who I assumed was Mikey, nodded and the boy carrying me lumbered away from the school. I let out a pathetic whimper as my arm was jostled. “I’m sorry. I’m walking as smoothly as possible. We’re almost there.” He headed up a driveway and entered a quaint looking house. My vision was still blurred from the intense pain as I was carried up some stairs to a dimly lit room before being set gently on the bed. The pain I was in was excruciating and I felt I was going to pass out.

“Think Frank skipped?” The pale boy asked, entering the room. “Hey, Ray. Go find him will ya?” The curly haired boy, Ray, nodded then quickly left. “Mikey, go get the first aid stuff. We need to clean up.” This entire conversation was muted, as if spoken under water. “Shut your teeth.” Confused, I did as I was told before letting out a small scream as my shoulder was forced back into place.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck….” I muttered to myself, the pain was like being stabbed with a white hot knife and I was getting tunnel vision. I was crying again. ‘What a shitty day.’

“Here’s the kit. Gerard, what the hell did you do to her?!” Mikey yelled.

“I put her arm back in its socket! Now give me the cloth and some antiseptic.” Mikey handed Gerard the cloth. “This will hurt.” He pressed the cloth to my lip and I hissed at the burn. As Gerard cleaned my cuts, I studied his face. He was unusually pale and it was only made paler by the jet black hair he bore. He was incredibly handsome, almost angelic, but his eyes scared me. They were hazel, but they were dark. So dark they almost looked black and I was terrified. ‘Who are these guys?’

“Oh Gerard!” Came a voice, followed by a slamming door and stomping up the stairs. “Gerard-Fucking-Way!” the voice sang. Gerard rolled his eyes.

“Yep. Frank skipped,” Gerard muttered to himself as he wiped the blood off his cheek. Said boy then burst into the room, arms spread. He had short black hair and a pierced lip. Not to mention a little guy liner. He was a very cute boy. He was a bit scrawny looking but looks, I knew, could be deceiving.

“Well, who’s this?” Frank asked, his eyes not looking at my face. I crossed my arms, slightly self-conscious, and Frank chuckled.

“No clue,” Mikey said. He was looking in the mirror, straightening his hair and glasses.

“I believe introductions are in order.” Gerard said, standing up and rubbing his hands together. “I’m Gerard and that’s my little bro, Mikey,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to the sandy-haired boy. He blushed.

“Hi,” he muttered, looking at his shoes.

“That one’s Ray.” The boy with the huge fro who had carried me in smiled wildly and waved. I couldn’t help but smile back, which was a bad idea. I sucked at my lip as it reopened. “And that one’s Frank.” Frank bowed dramatically, also grinning.

“Frank Iero at your service,” I blinked. ‘What a weird bunch.’

“Now who are you?” Ray asked.

“Um…I’m Samantha Joe Collins… You guys are new to my school aren’t you?” I managed to choke out.

“Just transferred,” Mikey said quietly. “We’ve always lived in Jersey though.” Gerard smirked.

“Alright Collins, welcome to the group.” I blinked, confused by his words. Gerard’s eyes were still dark, guarded almost. No one seemed to object to his claim. I cradled my arm close to my chest. “I say we don’t go back today.” Affirmative responses from everyone sealed that deal. The boys looked at me, almost expectantly.

“…I…I don’t….what?” All of the boys laughed at my obviously stupefied expression.

“So what happened? Huh? Huh?” Frank was bouncing on the bed like and excited two year old on Christmas.

“Gerard got in a fight with one of the jocks and was getting the crap kicked out of him. Then Samantha stepped in and kneed him in the groin. He kicked the shit out of her too.” Mikey said. Frank cast a bewildered look in my direction.

“You tried to fight a jock?” I nodded hesitantly. “Oh I like her. Which one? Which one?” I was having trouble with my voice and my throat was dry. I cleared my throat and cast my eyes to the ground, heat rising in my cheeks as they all stared at me. I remembered that they were new to the school so they didn’t know.

“J-Jackson Anderson…”

“Holy crap!” Frank yelled, startling me. “Anderson? That’s the fucking football team captain! Girl, you got balls to do that.” My face grew redder still. I detested all of the attention I was getting from boy who I had known for less than two hours. I hated receiving attention in general. I preferred to blend into the background, unnoticed. Then Frank, the moron, slapped my shoulder.

“Damn it! Don’t fucking touch me!” Tears again. ‘Damn these tears.’

“What did I do?” Franks looked around confused as Mikey snickered and Gerard let out an exasperated sigh. I sucked in sharp breaths, trying to ease the pain

“That ass Anderson dislocated her arm.” Gerard explained, his eyes flashing dangerously and caused me to shrink away, terrified.

“I…I want to go home.” I whispered. Ray glanced at me.

“Hey, I’ll take Samantha home. Meet you guys at the grave yard later.” As I stood up to leave, Frank grabbed onto my leg.

“No!” he wailed. “Don’t leave!” ‘Seriously?’ I tried dragging my leg but the boy wouldn’t let
go. “Stay! Please?” Frank stared up at me with puppy dog eyes. A chill ran down my spine, raising goose bumps on my arms. I could tell he was staring at me but I didn’t turn to acknowledge him. I didn’t want to see those dark orbs.

“M-maybe I’ll be back later..” Frank’s pierced bottom lip jutted out. ‘He’s such a child. It’s kinda adorable.’ Finally, he let go, nearly causing me to fall. As I turned to leave, I felt a hand on my good shoulder.

“Collins, meet us in the trees by the school tomorrow before you go inside.” His words were full of caution and his hand felt tense. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and his hand fell from my shoulder. I fled the house, praying I would forget his eyes. The felt like they were imprinted in my mind’s eye.

“Ray?” I called for him when I got outside. He smiled and waved at me from across the street. “Thanks for walking me home, Ray. I mean, I don’t even know you guys.”

“Well then.” He stopped walking and held out his hand. “I’m Ray Toro. I’m a junior this year.” I smiled and took his hand.

“I’m Samantha Joe Collins. I’m also a junior this year.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” I laughed, bowing. Both of us burst into laughter. As we approached my house, I got a sinking feeling. I quickly thanked Ray before running up to the door of that building I called a home. The heavy wooden door loomed in front of me, mocking me, beckoning me to enter. I braced myself for whatever I would find laying on the ground of my house. As I pressed open the wooden barrier, the smell of liquor assailed my nostrils and I covered my mouth, gaging. “Dad?” Then I saw a still body lying on the ground of the living room. “Dad!” I rushed to his side, checking his pulse. ‘He’s still alive.’ He was too heavy for me to pick up, so I simply took the wine glass from his hand and covered him up with a quilt. As I padded up to my room, I tried to forget today’s happenings. I was ditching today and I felt terrible for it. And now his eyes haunted me, burning their image into my mind. I dropped my bag on the floor and shuffled to my desk.

‘Click’ Three Days Grace filled my room.
‘Pain, without love.
Pain, can’t get enough.
Pain, or lack thereof.
‘Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.’

I turned the music up as loud as it would go and pulled out my poetry/sketch book, not sure what to write. The tattered cover stared up at me forlornly. I opened it to a blank page and my hand began to flow across the page, seemingly of its own accord.

Eyes of black
Flecked with green,
Portraying nothing
But hate and fear.
Two burning coals
Etched in memory.
Haunting. Torturing.
Those eyes of black
Glow with darkness,
Shred my soul.
Eternal torture.

These eleven, seemingly simple lines held so much meaning to me. And yet, I couldn’t figure out why. My pencil began some preliminary strokes. ‘Of what?’ Who was I kidding? I knew it was his eyes. The one’s of the poem and the ones of the pale boy. He haunted me. He was like a demon, yet so much like an angel.