The Scars on Your Heart

I woke up with my arm over my face. It was boiling in my room; probably why I kicked my covers off in my sleep. I looked over at the air conditioning unit once I removed the appendage from my eyes, sighing when I saw that it was in its signature position. Off. I didn't even turn it off, the fucking piece of shit. Then I noticed something in my peripheral vision.

I turned my head in the direction of the object, nearly shitting myself when I noticed it was a heavily scarred arm hanging over the edge of the top bunk. That's when I remembered. "Sykes!" I shouted, smacking his arm and standing up to glare at his sleeping face. He woke with a start, hazel eyes widening when he saw me. "What is that?" I pointed to his arm.

"Er, my arm," He squeaked in reply, pulling it back towards him and under the covers.

"And what is it doing in my sight?" I asked, my voice growing gradually louder in frustration.

"Erm..." He looked puzzled. "I was sleeping, I had no control over my arm." He replied, making me want to cut his throat. "But I'm awake now, so you don't have to see it anymore." He rolled over to face the dark green wall as he said this, pulling the covers over his head. I saw him begin to shake.

"Who do you think you are, turning away from me like that?!" I shouted, surely waking the inhabitants of the neighboring room, but I didn't care.

"I think I'm Oliver Scott Sykes, who is having none of your bullshit today." He said matter-of-factly, and I was furious. I grabbed his covers and yanked them, pulling him off of the top bunk in the process. He cried out just before he hit the hardwood floor, putting his arms out to break his fall. I heard a loud crack, and leaned down to see the look on his face. It was sheer panic. It took a moment for him to realize what had just happened, and then he began howling. "Fuck you! Fuck you!" He repeated over and over again as he cradled his right arm, which was already starting to discolor and was bending at an odd angle. And, once again, he was crying.

"Only faggots cry, you little cocksucker," I laughed, kicking him in the leg as I walked into our bathroom.

I heard someone open the door and rush inside, most likely because of Oliver's noise. "Mr. Sykes!" It was George, the lead tech on this floor. "Why did you do this to yourself?" He asked, and I grinned as I smeared a blob of toothpaste onto my toothbrush. I had forgotten that he had a history of self-harm of all sorts, from cutting to burning, even to breaking bones.

"Josh did it to me! He pulled me off of my bunk!" Oliver hiccupped.

"Now, now, there's no need to lie about things," The tech said, trying to soothe Oliver, which only got him going even more. I was chuckling silently as I brushed my teeth. So the faggot breaks his arm because of me and then the staff blames it on him. I felt a pang of guilt rush through me as I thought that. Because of me... I broke a kid's fucking arm. It didn't matter if it was Oliver. It'd be the same as if I broke Max's arm, or Dan's, or any of my friends here. Whatever, I thought. he deserved it. And he did. I just... I don't even know.

"No, I'm not! He pulled me off of my bunk! Didn't you hear him shouting at me?" Oliver whined and I heard him let out a heavy sob. "Fuck, this hurts!"

"I heard him yelling but that's no reason to throw yourself off the bunk." George said, and I heard him pull Oliver onto his feet.

"But I didn't!"

"Hush, now, we're going to the infirmary. You don't want to wake the other students more than they already are."

I don't know what possessed me to tell George that it was me, but I went out to the main area of our room to do so. Fortunately they were gone, but one quarter of me was screaming at me to chase them down. I opened the door to the hallway and peeked out, noticing that almost all of the other guys were doing the same. I sighed and pulled my head back into the room, shutting the door and going to sit on my bed. I slammed my head on the wall. I was awfully upset by this, with no idea why. "Poor Oli..." I muttered, covering my mouth immediately after. Oli? What kind of name was that? And why did I suddenly rename Oliver, while feeling bad about what I did? I should have no remorse for the kid after what he did to me yesterday. I mean, seriously.

I got up and walked to the bathroom, staring myself in the mirror. I had a look of concern on my face, which I removed and replaced with a blank stare. "You hate Oliver Sykes. You have no reason to feel sorry for him, even if you did break his arm. It wasn't on purpose," I said to my reflection, trying to justify my actions. "the faggot put his own arms out. It wasn't your fault." But no matter how many times I repeated it to myself (12, to be exact) I couldn't shake the feeling. But I guess I'd feel that way if I did it to anyone. He was a person after all. Maybe a psychotic, cocksucking person, but still a person.

It was too late to do anything, anyway. The breakfast bell had rung, and Oliver was probably in the infirmary with George telling him that lying is wrong. Oh, if only he knew.

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I stuffed the remainder of my muffin into my mouth and chewed hastily, constantly looking around for signs of Oliver to avoid having to face him. I was filled to the brim with guilt, while it should've been a feeling of triumph.

"You there, Josh?" Max waved his hand in front of my face and I blinked a few times, remembering where I was.

"Oh, yeah," I muttered through a mouth full of muffin. I swallowed and shook my head. "what were you saying?"

"We were talking about Sykes." He said, Dan, Matt and Chris nodding in sync. "Apparently he broke his arm this morning. An ugly sight, it was, when he walked past me and Dan's room."

"Yeah." Dan agreed.

"Did you do it?" Chris asked, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows.

I took a piece of bacon and bit off the end. "Nope." I replied bluntly.

"Aw, shame. Would've been awesome if you did. After what he did to you yesterday, he deserved it." Max said, continuing to eat his grayish porridge. He swallowed and continued. "So he threw himself off the bunk, then?"

"Yeah." I laughed, looking to the side. "It was quite funny actually. I was talking to him and he completely freaked. Just flung himself right over the edge. And then cried." This made each of the guys laugh, and I managed to laugh with them, glancing at the entrance to the cafeteria. I looked away, then looked back, eyes widening. Oliver was standing in the doorway, and the entire room got eerily silent.

"What?" He shouted, his frown visible from the far end of the room, where we were sitting. "Never seen a broken arm before?" You could hear a pin drop.

Max looked at me and grinned as Oliver came walking down the middle of the rows of tables. "Did you get it having a good wank?" Max shouted at him, causing the entire room to start laughing. Oliver looked in our direction and glared, then continued down to the breakfast line. His cast was plain white, and probably wouldn't be getting any signatures. I remembered that was always fun whenever I broke a bone, having all your friends sign the colorful cast.

"Poor Oli," I sighed, watching him get a carton of skim milk.

"What was that?" Matt spoke up, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"What?"

"What did you just say? You said, 'Poor Oli'. What was that about?"

"You aren't turning gay already, are you, Franceschi?" Dan laughed, and I felt my blood begin to boil.

"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted, slamming my hands on the table and standing up, my seat falling backwards.

"Whoa, calm down, mate, it was a joke. But seriously, why'd you say that?" Dan asked, and I wanted to punch him in the face, but he was my friend. And if he left, all of them left. Except maybe Max, but I needed more than that.

"I didn't, you misheard me. I said 'prolly,'" I came up with the word on the spot, glancing to the side once more. "you know, like 'probably'? As in, he prolly got it having a good wank!" Everyone was looking at me now. "And you know I wouldn't go gay for that loser anyway!" I said, sending a death glare over to Oliver, who looked back at me with pure sadness in his eyes. He wasn't even angry at me. He could've been, but he probably would've shown it. I sent back an apologetic look but by the time it reached my face, he was already looking down. Damn kid was already ruining my reputation. And getting under my skin. It had only been a night and all of a sudden I felt sorry for this friendless idiot. This was not natural.

"Calm down, Josh," Max said, grabbing my arm and looking me in the eyes. "just, calm down. Pick your chair up and sit."

"You know what?" I said, letting out the heaviest sigh ever. "You guys are wankers. I'm leaving."