A fist collided with my side. Hard. I felt like crying out in pain, but a hand was held above my mouth, to keep that from happening. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. It hurt too much. Only one thought was on my mind; not again. Please, just not again.
Another fist collided with the side of my face. Then a harder punch landed at my other side, undoubtedly fracturing at least one rib.
As if that wasn't enough, somebody started kicking me wherever they could reach.
Why me? What have I done wrong? I wondered mentally, unable to stop the tears from falling. The pain was just too great.
"Geek."
I was shoved into a concrete wall, hard. My shoulder, ribs and hip taking the force of the blow.
"Nerd."
A hand grabbed onto the back of my head, shoving my face right into the wall, pain shooting all through my body. A sticky, warm substance dripping from my nose. Blood.
"Freak."
A kick landing on my chest, pushing my ribcage back painfully, successfully knocking the wind out of me, but not far enough to break anything. I doubled over, desperate for air.
"You don't deserve to live. You should just get out of our way. Just go hang yourself or something, nobody wants you."
Another kick, to the back of my knees, sending me straight too the ground – face first. Blood seeping out in a tiny pool around my nose.
The voices surrounding me, pushing me up in a corner of the ally, where filled with hate. Speaking only one truth; nobody wanted me. Nobody ever had, nor ever would. Not even my own father wanted me, he never had. My mom didn't really care about me. She was never home. Never around. Never asking about my injuries. I had no friends either.
They where right, they where all right. There was no point in me being alive; I should just go hang myself, or something.
There was no end to the name calling, reminding me, as if that was really necessary, of how worthless I was. How worthless I am.
Kicks and punches where thrown. This is it, I thought calmly, coldly, I'm going to die tonight. These people are going to kill me. Nobody will care.
It's for the best.
Finally, the beating stopped. My eyelids barley open. My body bruised and broken. Scarred and bleeding. My heart – my soul – in a far worse condition.
My tormentors were disappearing from the ally. Leaving me alone, deeming me dead, or broken enough. I didn't know. I couldn't bring myself to think. I was acting on instinct, sort of, my body telling me the torture was over. Finally.
For now at least.
Barley breathing, my body aching like never before, I slowly – with heavy help of the wall behind me – got up on my feet. Putting one foot in front of the other, as if learning to walk all over again – pain shooting through my body at each movement – I slowly, but surley gathered my books together that where scattered about on the ground. A result of me being attacked.
Pages of my notebook where scattered out, having fell out in the rush, now drifting off with the wind. The scene around me was a mess. The usual garbage, mixed in with my wrinkled, wet and damaged notes and schoolbooks. Blood was on the ground, some of it staining my notes too, along with dirt and water from the rainstorm that had passed.
I cringed at the sight.
My mom would kill me for damaging school property. My teachers would be pissed.
Sighing heavily, knowing I would face punishment once they found out – dreading that knowledge – I slung my bag over my shoulder, flinching in pain at the extra weight, and stumbled towards the abandoned house.
My secret hiding spot. Not really by choice – I simply had no one to tell.
Stumbling over my own feet, barley able to walk and hurting like hell, the pain finally hitting me with full force. I fell down – collapsed – to the ground, curling up in a corner. My iPod in hand and ear buds plugged in, blasting music. Three Days Grace.
My only savior, my only help, my only friend – my only passion in life was music. Without it I wouldn't be alive.
A lingering voice in the back of my mind – one that was constantly growing stronger day by day – telling me I had no reason to live. Nobody cared anyways. I would just rid the world of trouble – of unnecessary used space.
Finally letting all my pain out, tears began to fall. My lip trembling with pain, hurt. Feeling lost and alone. My hands curling up into fists, my knuckles going white with the force. My head fell back against the wall. A ball of emotions churned in the pit of my stomach, causing even more pain.
Through heavy tears I let my eyes scan the room I knew all too well. I had come here once too often. Every time I would be beaten down, bleeding, hurt, scarred. Every time I would die a little more inside.
With a weak, obviously pained voice, I softly sang along to the song.
"Every street in this city,
Is the same to me
Everyone's got a place to be,
But there's no room for me
Am I to blame?
When the guilt and the shame, hang over me
Like a dark cloud,
That chases you down in the pouring rain"
The song always hit a nerve. It was right though; there was no room for me.
"It's so hard to find someone
Who cares about you,
But it's easy enough to find someone,
Who looks down on you
Why is it so hard to find someone,
Who cares about you?
When it's easy enough to find someone,
Who looks down on you"
My voice grew slightly stronger at the chorus, no longer shaking, but the pain still all too evident.
"It's not what it seems,
When you're not on the scene,
There's a chill in the air
But there's people like me,
That nobody sees, so nobody cares
Why is it so hard to find someone,
Who cares about you?
When it's easy enough to find someone,
Who looks down on you.
Why is it so hard to find someone,
Who can keep it together
When you've come undone?
Why is it so hard to find someone,
Who cares about you?"
It was like a sudden urge of confidence and anger flooded over me, allowing me to raise my voice. Urging me to do so. Singing the next verse with a new feeling – hatred – still mixed in with pain.
"I swear this time it won't turn out
The same 'cause now I've got myself to blame
And you'll know where we'll end up
On the streets that it's easy enough
To find someone who looks down on you
Why is it so hard to find someone
Who cares about you?
When it's easy enough to find someone
Who looks down on you
Why is it so hard to find someone
Who can keep it together
When you've come undone?
Why is it so hard to find someone
Who cares about you?"
My breathing was slightly quicker. Almost less restricted – although still painful with a few broken ribs. "You know, there are people who care," a voice said, making me jump. My heartbeat quickened. I automatically searched for the source of the voice, my eyes landing on a tall, blonde haired form. The blonde came closer to me, gasping as he got close enough to really see me.
He must think you're ugly as hell, a voice shouted in my mind. But looking up at his eyes, those wonderful green orbs, I saw pain and empathy.
"Ohh," he said softly, "what happened to you?" Genuine curiosity and empathy was evident in his voice as he bent down, stroking my cheek softly with a thumb. As he pulled his hand away, I saw it was coated with blood. My blood.
The man – boy, he looked to be about my age – got up on his feet again, only to leave me alone. "Wait!" I called after him, hating how desperate I sounded, "Where are you going?"
A smile appeared on his face, a comforting one, not the mocking or hurtful kind I was used to seeing. "I'm just going to get some stuff to fix you up with. Take away the blood and stuff," he said with his melodic voice. "I won't be long. I'll be back," he said, still with a smile, "I promise," he added softly.
I began to hyperventilate, going into a full panic attack. The one person I felt – hoped – wouldn't leave me, was doing that exact thing right then. Despite the blonde promising not to leave, he would. I just knew it. Nobody ever stayed around me by free will. Not me. I was just some worthless nerd. A freak. I have no reason to live.
"Hey, hey," a soothing voice called. The blonde ran over to me with something in his hands, got down on both knees in front of me, placing a calming hand on my cheek, rubbing it gently. "Breathe," he ordered softly, "just take deep breaths, calm down. No one's gonna hurt you now."
The blonde kept rubbing my cheek gently, until I calmed down and my breathing got back to normal. Then he lowered his hand and picked up a washcloth, starting to clean off the blood of my face. "What happened to you?" he repeated. The look in his eyes told me he genuinely cared, that he really wanted to know. Flinching in pain as he reached my nose, he whispered a 'sorry' so filled with truth and emotion, I almost felt a little better. Almost.
"Dude, your nose is broken," he stated matter-of-factly, but with an undertone of worry. "J-just… uh, grab the bridge a-and force it back in place, a-and it'll heal. Eventually," I told him. He gave me a quizzical look. "Y-you sure?"
"Yeah," I breathed, barley audible, "I want to be a doctor when I get older. I kinda studied ahead… that's what any doctor would do."
"Ohh," he said, "that's cool. I think you'd make an awesome doctor. I'd totally be your patient," he said with a smile. Taking a deep breath he said, "well then, if you're sure, I'll do it. Doctors orders and all, huh?" he attempted a joking tone, but I could tell he was nervous, as if he was afraid he'd hurt me more. One more deep breath, and the blonde boy went for it, pulling my nose back in place – making me cry out in pain. Goddamn! That was way more painful than I had imagined it to be!
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" the blonde half-shouted, worried he'd only made things worse. "i-it's okay. It's really not that bad. Doesn't hurt anymore – promise."
"Seriously?" The blonde obviously didn't believe me. "y-yeah. I – I'm kinda used to being in pain."
"What? Why?"
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I began to tell him the entire story, how I would get pushed around and called names every day. How I was a complete loner – isolated from any sociality at school. How I would get beat up and attacked – to the point where I could barley breathe or walk. Like today.
A mask of pure horror and disgust was on his face. Though, it seemed to be for the fact that somebody would treat me that way, not whatever other reason he should have. A hand went up to cover his mouth as he let out a gasp when I told him what had happened to me today. "That-that's horrible! I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through that. Nobody ever should. I mean, okay you wanna be a doctor when you grow up, you study a lot. That's cool – you just want to achieve your dreams. There's nothing wrong with that." The blonde smiled at me, a bright, charming smile. I found myself drawn to it, and automatically scolded myself for even going there. If I started pining for boys too, my life would be beyond the hell it already was. There would be even more torture, and less of a reason to live. I couldn't go there.
"Look, there's nothing wrong with going after one's dreams – if anything it makes you really awesome. Even more awesome than you already are. I mean, not that I know you that well, or at all really, but from my impression of you, you're a really awesome kid, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. You have a really great voice too, by the way."
I blushed all the while a smile – something so unusual for me to feel it was almost alienated – slowly grew brighter on my face. "You're much more awesome than I am," said softly. "I seriously doubt that," the blonde said. "You are," I insisted, "you came over to me and took care of my injuries, even tough you don't know me, and actually make me feel like somebody actually cares about me, and that I have a reason to keep living."
The blonde's face paled. "Y-you really saw no reason to keep living?"
"No," I told him truthfully, "people are always bashing me. My dad left me and my mom a long time ago, said we weren't worth his time, and my mom's never around. She doesn't ask if I'm injured, I barley ever talk to her, and when I do she's always pushing me to make more of an effort at school, or scolding me for something I did wrong. I have no friends… My life is a living hell. I-I just don't see a reason to live."
"R-really?"
"Yeah. But then you showed up, and you kinda made me think that I might be worth a little after all."
"You are! You so are."
"Thanks," I said softly, looking down at my shoes. "I don't wanna sound pathetic or whatever, but, if you hadn't been here, I might have killed myself tonight."
The blonde paled even more. Eventually, he recovered from the initial shock and said, "good thing I came out here then. That way you're still alive, and hopefully you'll stay alive so I can see you again."
"Really?" I asked, perking up, "you want to see me again?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I? You're easy to talk to, I like that. I feel like we could be good friends," he said, making me… happy. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy. "What's your name by the way?" the blonde added. "Oh, I totally forgot I didn't tell you, I'm Logan. Logan Mitchel."
"Oh, I like that name," he said cheerfully, "Logan is actually one of my favorite names. And now I'm getting off track. I'm Kendall Knight."
That caused me to laugh.
"What?" Kendall asked uncertainly. "S-sorry," I stuttered between laughs, "it's just so ridiculously appropriate."
"Oh? How so?"
"you know, you sort of saving me and all. Sort of like a knight in a shining armor, and then your last name is Knight."
Kendall joined in laughing too. "You're right, that is kinda funny."
"So, Logan… Do you go here often?" Kendall asked, after the laughter died down, both of us still smiling, though. "Yeah, kinda. I go here every time I'm upset or something. How 'bout you?"
"I go here kinda often too, whenever I need to clear my mind or just need some alone time."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"How come I haven't seen you here before?" I wondered.
"I don't know. It is kinda weird we haven't run into each other before if we both go here often. I seriously thought no one else dared to go in here."
"Me too! That's why I always thought of it as the perfect place to be alone. I don't like to let people see me cry," I told him. "Me neither," Kendall said with a knowing smile. A comfortable silence unfolded in the room. "It's getting dark outside," Kendall noted, "I should probably head home." Kendall seemed almost reluctant, as if he didn't really want to go. I knew it was stupid, but it made me feel special. It made me feel wanted.
"Yeah, I should probably go too," I said and stood up. Kendall and I walked towards the door. I was a little sad to discover he had to go the opposite direction from me, but faced the fact that we had to say goodbye already.
I sighed. It was better to get it out of the way. I was only fooling myself by thinking he would actually care – that I hade actually made a friend. A real friend.
Yet, there was a small – microscopic, in fact – piece of me, telling me that I had in fact made a friend. That I did now have a reason to live.
"So, uh. I'll see you around?" Kendall asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked. Did he really say that? Did he really want to see me again?
"Yeah, hopefully," I said and smiled, before saying goodbye and heading off the way I knew my house was.
That part of me – that positive part – grew a little bigger. Maybe I really had made a friend?
As I walked home that night, for the first time since I can remember, a small smile played on the corners of my lips. With Kendall in my life, I just might learn to fully be happy.
Gosh, this is angsty. Yes, I know I have a bunch of ther stories to update, and I'm working on that. Honestly. But this idea just popped into my mind, and I just had to write it out, so here I am again, with another new story.
I'm only creating more and more work for me. I have a bunch of other stories sitting on my computer too, and now I'm rambling. Sorry.
Uh, hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. Whether it's good or bad :)