Part 1

"I can't believe he gave us a term exam!" Mattie sighed, and went through the pile of paper on the desk, looking for her notes.

"I know," Ric replied, "If I had known this was going to happen I wouldn't have slept through all those biology classes!"

Mattie smiled at her boyfriend, but her face expression quickly went back to serious and concentrating.

"I'm never gonna get this done!" she said, getting really frustrated because she couldn't find her notes.

"Don't worry," Ric said and put his arm around her, "In two weeks it'll all be over."

Mattie sighed.

"Always light at the end of the tunnel, right?" she said, sounding like she didn't mean it.

"Yes," Ric replied, "light at the end of the tunnel."

"Just not always," Mattie said, raising her eyebrows at Ric.

"You don't believe that?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Mattie said, "What about you? Do you believe that there's always light at the end of the tunnel?"

Ric raised his shoulders.

"I guess so," he said. Mattie put her book down.

"Really?" she asked, "You think that even in the darkest situations, when nothing seems to go your way, everything will turn out right eventually? Always?"

- - -

Two years earlier.

As soon as he opened the door he knew he was drunk again. It wasn't because of the smell or anything, he just sensed it.

Something told him his father would be drunk, and close to losing his temper like so many times before.

He was right.

In the kitchen his father sat, surrounded by bottles, and obviously very drunk.

"Hi Dad, I'm home," he said, even though he wished he could just have sneaked past him. That way he would avoid a conversation, but it would be literally dangerous if his father found out he was home without telling him.

He was lucky today, he was too drunk to focus on his son, and just grunted back when Ric talked to him.

He knew he should look after him, but he just couldn't.

Everything was so much easier in school. The students were scared of him because he was a bully. Deep inside Ric felt bad for being so mean to everyone. This was not who he wanted to be! But the option was showing how weak he was. That he was a looser wo lost control of his life when his mother died. A looser who got beaten up by his drunk father. If they saw how weak he was they would just force him to talk.

And when he wouldn't talk they would find a shrink, but no one would be able to figure him out because he was such a lost looser, so they would just lock im up in some institution.

Either that or they would see what a horrible person he was. They would see that his father was right, that everything was his fault because he was such a sucker. He couldn't get anything sorted out in is life, and that ruined the lives for those around him. His father told him that every day, and Ric was sure everyone would agree with him. Even he believed it now. He had been told so many times he was worthless, and a mistake he couldn't help thinking it was true.

That was why he bullied everyone.

He knew it was stupid. Who would ever go out with a bully like him? Who would even care if he died?

But then again, on the other hand no one would go out with him if they knew what a loser he was either. Getting their respect by being a bully was the only option, because even though he was a loser, it was better to be a tough loser than a weak loser.

No way he was getting help with this and show everyone the real Ric. He would rather die.

His lip was swollen and bloody from being hit by is father's fist.

"You can't sit here!" he repeated, trying to get control of his father who refused to move, "You are too drunk to sit up straight, you need to lay down!"

"Whadd'ya care for?" Owen grunted back, he smelled like a liquor store after an explosion, "You never cared about ya' mum!"

"No, no, I didn't," Ric said, he knew arguing would just make it worse, but it hurt actually admitting he had screwed his mother over.

"If t'wasn for you she'd still BE HERE, you hea'me?" he shouted and smashed his fist in Ric's face as he tried to drag him off the chair.

The words hurt more than the fist.

After finally getting his father in to the livingroom and down on the couch where he fell asleep, Ric went down the hall to the bathroom to see how bad his face looked after being smashed.

One look in the mirror was enough. He had a blck eye, a swollen lip and a bleeding wound on the cheek.

He didn't even feel like crying. He wouldn't go that far. For a moment he thought "the bastard isn't worth it!" but then he had to remind himself this was all his fault. If he had been a better son to his mum this would never have happened.

Plus, he didn't have time for crying. Now he had to figure out a story to tell tomorrow when people started asking questions about his face.

- - -

"Ric? Ric? Ric!!" Mattie grabbed his shoulder ans shook him.

"What?" He said, and turned around.

"You were totally lost from this world for a moment, are you okay?"

Ric shook his head quickly to get rid of the image of his drunk father.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"Are you sure?" Mattie looked worried, "Do you need your insulin or anything?"

"No, no, it's not that," he replied quickly, "I was just thinking..."

Mattie put her arm around him and leant forward so she could see his face. He was pale, but other than that he seemed fine.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked.

"Just... my dad..." he replied.

"Flynn?" she asked.

"Um... no, Owen. My other dad."

"Oh," Mattie blushed, "I'm sorry, was it because I started talking about difficult situations?"

No, not at all," he lied to her, "It's just... he was really good at this biology stuff..."

Mattie looked really suspicious, but decided to believe him.

"I have to go home," Ric said, "it's dinner time, and I'm not supposed to drop meals."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mattie asked.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Ric assured her before he grabbed his books and left.