My Gift is My Curse

Oli's P.O.V

Awokened by the persistent beeps of my alarm clock, I rubbed my eyes and turned my head against the sound. With bright red numbers, the old clock showed me, that it was now 6:45. With a sleepy sigh I got up, and still being a bit dizzy, I went to my dresser for some fresh clothes. I opened the first drawer, still not entirely awake, and picked up some black skinny jeans, which were basically the only kind of pants I owned. Still looking for a clean pair of bokser and a shirt, I dived deeper into the dresser. Satisfied with what I found I grabbed a towel and brought it all with me to the bathroom down the hall. I passed my dads room on the way, and quickly took a look inside. He was still sleeping, passed out on the floor with a sixpack of (empty)beers by his side. 'I am safe' I thought to myself, as I looked on the sleeping man.
'For now'.

While I undressed and showered, I thought about today. I was worried. Not nervous. Worried.
It was my first day at my new high school, located in the other end of the british town Sheffield, where I lived. I was worried that they would notice it. The bruises. The scars. I was worried that they would hate me as much as my they did on my old school. And to be honest, I was scarred to. I've never been fond of socializing. Never liked it, never needed it. It only causes troubles. Some would might say that I've got a shred of social anxiety. Even though that might be true, I preferred to consider myself as 'shy'. It didn't sound so... weak? No, not weak but like I was a mental case. A person that should've been taken care of. I've never liked mental conditions. Depressed, suicidal, etc... It made me feel like a misfist. I'd rather just be a freak.

When I stepped out of the shower, I stood a while infront of the mirror, waiting for the condensation to go away. Finally I could see myself. Fat. It was always the first thought that occured to me when I looked at myself. I grapped my hip and squeezed the handful of disgusting fat beneath my hand. Then my eyes trawelled further up. To my stomach, my chest. covered in tattoos and scars. Some cuts were red, fresh and delightful, and others were merely faded scars. The oldest dated back years ago were messy and irregular. My first clumsy attempts on driving the mental pain away. When I decided that I've had enough of starring at my body, I got dressed, and did a halfhearted attempt of fixing my brown and messy hair. No use, it couldn't be tamed, so I gave up and hurried downstairs where I found my brother already in the process of tieing his shoes. "'Morning Tom" I said with a yawn, and went to grab my bag and my jacket before slipping into my black converse.
"Hey." he replied "Ready to start at the new school today?"
I grunted as an answer, which apparently was enough to satisfy my younger brother.
"Dont worry, it'll get better." He reassured me, as we both went out the door.

Tom knew about the old school. How they beat me. How they bullied me. But honestly, it didn't bother me, because atleast they stayed of Toms back, and that was all that mattered to me.

"Yeah, maybe." I said, but I didn't believe it myself.

As we walked down our road to the busstop, Tom happily blabbered on about some new band he liked. I only listened with half an ear, still thinking about how the bullies had me and my brother kicked out of the other high school, blaming us for a crime we didn't do. But that didn't matter to the principal. He needed someone to blame, and since he had always hold a grudge against me for 'starting trouble' (Psh, yeah right), this had only been the excuse to get rid of Tom and me, that he had been waiting for.

"Oli, are you even listening?"
I was pulled out of my thoughts, when I realized that Tom was talking to me.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"I said, we've gotta hurry. Or else we'll miss the bus!" he repeated.
"Oh, okay, then we better start runing huh?" I said as I began to run.
As I turned my head to see if Tom had caught up with me, I bumped into something. Or rather someone.

"Woah, there, slow down mate" 'Someone' said, laughing. I blushed and turned around to see that the guy whom I had ehm.. attacked.. was a rather attractive male, probably around my age. And when I say 'rather attractive' I mean 'Sweet mother of god, he's hot'. I blushed again, and mumbled a quiet "Sorry", as I felt Toms hand on my arm. Thank god he showed up. I was already starting to panick by the thought of the embarrsing situation that I had gotten myself into, but somehow, Toms presence was enough for me to calm down.
"Uhm.. I'm Oli" I said and held my hand out so he could shake it.
"And I'm Josh" 'Someone' answered with a smile and shook my hand.