Bleachless

My pen traced what we call words onto the thick, sharp paper. Mr. Barren continued to talk about our world history, but I wasn't paying much attention. My fingers traced the papers outline, savoring the touch of the paper's edge, not quite cutting into my thumbs flesh.

"And that's why Abraham Lincoln was assasinated. Booth felt as if Lincoln was the root or the main cause of the destruction of the South and it's people. Lincoln was killed out of anger and resentment, the only reason to say so. It's a shame he died as young as he was," Mr. Barren said, taking me out of my own worse thoughts. I wish I was dead.

The bell rung, and for once, I felt kind of excited to get out. But soon, I realized that this was only the beginning class and I still had four more left. Which means I was stuck here in this hell hole for another good six hours. I just wanted to go home and be welcomed warmly from my friends who always helped through my anger and anguish. Those are the only emotions I know anymore, literally. I'm never happy on the inside, but I tend to hide it behind my plastered fake grin on my face for the most part of the day. I'm just glad when I arrive back at my place I can take it off and not wear it again.

Lunch hour came at a slow pace, and that bothered me much, much more than it should have. My mind liked to play games, so I was never sure if I was stable to trust myself or not. I'd say for the most part, my mind is just insanity and a complete clutter. The line was short, because I shoved myself up front. I'm a nobody here anyways, so why would it matter?

I was Vic Fuentes, the loner and disturbance of this school. Nobody gave a shit of what I thought on a topic in class, or what my opinions were on people within this school. The only time I was noticed was when I was being bullied, which has turned into an irregular event, mostly because I've found their weak spot. They don't want to put effort into finding the loner of the school. Unless they see me out in the open and they're blantantly aware it's me, I'm fine. I just tend to sneak around their tricks and plans, deceiving them almost everytime. I may not have the greatest grades in this school, but I do know my stuff.

Grabbing my tray, I hurried off out of the lunch room. No body guards the doors because it's common for students with a license to leave for lunch. It's weird though, because it's also an alternative and easy way to ditch. I would know, because I ditch frequentely. Walking down the hall, I made sure to dodge the iota of crowds out and about, just because I didn't need them mocking me.

'Look at that loser, eating his lunch alone.'

Common, it doesn't even faze me anymore. Down the hall and to the right a couple times led to some steep stairs. I went down them, watching my step so I wouldn't fall and face plant flat into my food. I guess either way it wouldn't matter, I'm not even hungry, and rarely am I. Down the stairs, the basement was dark as usual. I come down here frequentely, most of the time for lunch, but I wasn't here for lunch today. I was here like I was 50% of the other times.

Setting my tray down on the long, white table, I made my way through the narrow, dark hall into the old restroom. I have no idea what this school building used to be, but it had to have been creepy because this basement was extremely weird and chilling. Anyone could get freaked out down here, even me. And I'm weird and chilling.

My bag dropped onto the old side table as I walked over to the mirror. I can't help but wonder why they left everything down here, it's not like anyone comes down here anyways. Hell, I don't think the janitor cleans down here, considering the floors are dirty and it's common that I see rats. Probably not following the schools regulations, but it's not like I cared. This was the only place in the entire school that I could be by myself.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a wooden box, on which I brought to school everyday. I unclipped the side pegs, freeing the top to reveal my old friends. Sometimes my friends were mean and hounded me, other times they were sweet and just wanted to be a neccessity. But by now, they're much more then that. I pulled out my favorite, his edge sleek since I washed him off four days ago. Him and I go a long way back, clear to the beggining of high school. It's three and a half years later and he's still here, supporting me. But he's also the devil, pulling me back to him when I'm almost away. He will not allow me to escape, not without one more skin cell being sliced into. He calls the shots, not me. I'm just the follower.

Hovering over the sink, I checked to see if the water still worked down here, which indeed it does. There were paper towels down here as well.

My mom and dad have been fighting for the past week, they never seem happy together anymore. I caught Mike drinking again, of course with his drug influenced girlfriend. My dad yelled at me and threatened me two days ago because I'm failing two classes and said I was a discrace to his family's good reputation.

Slash, slash, slash.

I got slammed into the lockers yesterday when I forgot that Oli and Matt would be ditching class.

Slash.

My grandpa died last week, he was the only one left who cared about me. That one hurt the most.

Slash, slash, slash.

Tears dripped from my eyes into the sink, as did the blood from my wounds. Every time the good voice inside my head said stop, another reason to continue crept in and killed off the good. Seven new memories to be foreverly marked on my wrist. My whole arm burned, but in a good way. I was so used to the pain anymore that I rarely even classify it as pain. I classify it as a bittersweet relationship on which I love and hate. I hate my closest enemies, but I love my farthest friends.

There was a group of thuds from the stairs, sending me into a state of worry. Someone was coming down here and they'd see what I've done.

Hastily, I put my sharpest friend back into the container, throwing him into my bag before wiping my arm off and pulling my sleeve down. Seconds later, a boy walked in. I didn't recognize him.

He didn't seem to be aware of my presence at first because without looking at my figure standing near, he walked over to another sink and put down his bag. It was when he was reaching inside that he noticed me. At first, he seemed startled, but then continued what he was doing.

"Who are you?" I questioned.

"You did that to yourself?" The boy replied, pointing to the sink stained in the color of my blood. Shit, I forgot to rinse it out.

"U-uh..."

"It's okay I've done it too," He said as I couldn't come up with anything to say. Turning towards me, he held out his hand. "Kellin, I transferred here today actually." No wonder I didn't know him.

"Uh, Vic, and nice to meet you..." I muttered, still kind of shocked someone took interest in me.

"So, why this time?" He asked, leaning against the wall.

"I prefer not to talk about my personal business," I replied, grabbing my bag. I didn't want to talk to him. He was already nosy, even if he was in the state of mind as I was.

"You know," He said, causing me to stop before the door. "If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. Also, lock the door." His words sent a chill down my spine, but I ignored it, walking out of the bathroom and up the stairs. Class started in three minutes.

I walked into the class as usual, taking a seat in the back by myself. Moments later, I watched all the jocks file in, taking a seat up front. They didn't hesistate to look back, then continue on, laughing at me. Ha ha, so funny.

The next thing I saw startled me. Kellin walked into the classroom, his hood up and sunglasses on. In a way, I admired him, not caring what people thought. And the next thing that happened took me off guard.

"Hey," He said, sitting down right next to me.

"Why are you sitting here? You're gonna get so much shit," I muttered softly, eyeing Mrs. Victoria.

"Who cares? Their just hypocritics high on narcotics." And then I did the least expected. I smiled.

Maybe Kellin wasn't so bad afterall.