As soon as the loud, shrill bell rung, telling the students of Middle Park High School that it was finally time to go home, Pip collected his torn backpack and ran for the school gates. Maybe today he'd get lucky and he'd be able to get to the bus before anyone had a chance to intercept him.

Pip had never been lucky. "Well, if it isn't the freak…" The blond recognized that voice. He didn't bother turning his head to see who it was before responding.

"Oh, hello, Mason." Mason was six-foot-something, built like a train, and ginger. Not that anyone mentioned the last fact. Compared to Pip's five-foot-eight height and smaller build, Mason was a testosterone-filled bull who didn't take crap from anyone. However, he sure liked to dish it out to others, especially Pip.

"Are you taking the bus today?" That's how it always started. Mason would ask him a question that appeared as if he and Pip were good friends.

"Well, yes, I take the bus everyday. Why would today be any different?" Pip shifted his backpack's one remaining strap on his shoulder, not daring to stare his bully in the eyes. Mason scowled.

"You talk too much," he said, and there was a chuckle from the side of him, notifying Pip that Mason had brought his friends with him. That was never a good thing; it only amplified Mason's harassment. "Anyway, today is going to be different, do you know why?"

"Why?" Pip squeaked out, barely a whisper. He couldn't miss the bus, his sister would kill him if he came home late again!

"Because you're not riding the bus today," Mason said, sealing away Pip's fate. The anxious look on Pip's face was made clear to him after seeing Mason's large smile grow wider. The ginger suddenly glanced around before leaning close to Pip's ear, pushing aside a long lock of blond hair so he could whisper. "If you even think of getting on that bus, I'm getting off with you at your stop and beating the shit out of you." He pulled away, slugging the smaller boy's shoulder as if he'd told him a funny story. "Better start walking, pal!"

And so he did. Because what else was he supposed to do? If he took the bus, he'd be reduced to a bloody mess on the side of the road, and, because Mason liked to drag on the beatings, he'd still be late getting home, and his sister would be angry with him too. He wasn't looking for two beatings in one day.

As he shuffled his way down the chilly streets leading back into South Park, he prayed that maybe his sister wouldn't be home. Maybe she'd be out shopping and wouldn't notice his late arrival. He could be lucky just once, couldn't he?

The answer was no; as soon as he stepped inside the house and pulled his oversized sweater over his head, his sister was at his throat, snarling like a rabid dog.

"Just where have you been?" she barked in his ear. He looked down, folding his sweater into little squares. "I saw the other kids walking by a half hour ago and you weren't with them! Why is that, Pip? Are you staying after school to smoke with your friends? Do you want the child services to come and take you away from me and Joe? Is that it? Because one call from a nosy neighbor is all it'll take!"

"No, I don't want to be taken away, Mrs. Joe!" he cried out as she grabbed a hold of his ear and pinched it hard. "I just missed the bus, is all, I swear it won't happen again!"

"Oh, is that your excuse this time?" she screeched loudly, anger boiling up inside her. "You were late coming home last week, too! And what was your excuse then, Pip?" She grabbed a long of his hair and tugged when he didn't answer. "What was it?!"

"My teacher asked to see me after class, Mrs. Joe!" That one had been a lie. He'd been kept for half an hour at his bus stop when Mason had decided to see how many times he could push Pip into the snow before the Brit grew too tired to pull himself back up.

"You'd like to be taken away from me, wouldn't you? You think I'm a bitch!"

"No, Mrs. Joe, I don't want to be taken away!" Wham! His vision flashed white and a moment later he felt the stinging from where she'd slapped him. His eyes slowly came back into focus and her scowling face came back into view while she screamed.

"Oh, but you think I'm a bitch!"

"No…Mrs. Joe." He clutched his cheek, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as they watered.

"Get to your room! I don't want to see you the rest of the night, you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Joe." He quickly walked up the stairs to his room – lest he be yelled at for running in the house. He quietly opened and shut his door and plopped down onto his small mattress. He'd had the same bed since he was a child, his sister never bothering to buy him an adult-sized one, and his feet hung off of it as he lie there rubbing his sore cheek and wiping his eyes.

After a few minutes he sat up and took a deep breath. Joe would be home off work soon, and Pip would rather not worry the good man with his crying. Pip liked to think that Joe was the best thing his sister had ever done in her life – not that she exactly deserved the man. But Joe was extremely nice, worked tremendously hard to afford their small home, and never failed to see the bright side in all situations.

Joe was the only person who had ever been nice to Pip, even calling him his real name, Phillip, when his sister wasn't around. The older man could always manage to bring a smile to Pip's face, even on the most ruthless of days. But that didn't mean that Pip wanted the kind father-figure to constantly worry about him, so lately Pip had been pretending that things were better than they really were. That was his personality, worrying about others' feelings even when he was literally suffering.

Pip stood from his bed and glanced at himself in his old full-length mirror. Well, full-length for a child, he supposed. While he wasn't particularly tall, he still had to bend to look at his face; he winced as he noticed a nasty bruise was already beginning to form. Sighing, he grabbed some pajamas from his drawer and crossed the hall to the bathroom, being careful to make as little noise as possible. He could hear his sister slamming things around downstairs, muttering to herself.

He locked the bathroom door and stripped himself of his clothing, setting them into the hamper. He turned the shower on and looked at his face in the mirror while he waited for the water to get hot. "What a mess," he muttered to himself. Running home had made him sweat, and his hair clung to his face in several places. He pushed it back, analyzing the purple mark now adorning his face. Joe would be very saddened if he were to see it, but Pip wasn't planning on that happening.

He stepped into the shower and began washing himself in the still-cold water. The water-heater must be out again. He shampooed and conditioned his hair and then washed his face gingerly before stepping out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He silently opened the drawer that held his sister's makeup and quickly found her liquid concealer.

"Damn, she's almost out," he whispered, wondering if it would be too noticeable if he used some. In the end, he shrugged and dabbed a little onto his finger and started applying it over his sore cheek. The tone didn't exactly match his own skin, but it was close enough. Pleased with his work, he returned the makeup to its drawer and pulled on his pajamas, hanging the towel up to dry and walking back to his room.

He combed his hair before sitting at his desk to begin his homework. His outstanding grades were the only thing he had to be proud of, and to be frank, they were his only hope to get out of this town. If he had a high enough GPA, he could get accepted into college, maybe get a scholarship. Then he could get a well-paying job and leave this town, only coming back to visit Joe from time to time.

He heard the front door open downstairs, and the unmistakable sounds of Joe's boots thudding on the wood floors. Not a second later did the shrill voice of his sister start up, complaining about the housework, the bills, and Pip. A short pause after the barrage of complaints, and then Joe's sympathetic voice, effectively quieting the woman.

Pip continued to work on his homework throughout dinner, knowing that he wouldn't get any tonight anyway, even if Mrs. Joe was in a better mood now. About an hour later, he finally heard Joe's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"'Ello there, Phillip!" he greeted from the doorway, quietly enough so that his wife wouldn't hear him. "Rough day, I heard?"

Pip waved his hand to dismiss it, smiling gently. "Oh, no, it hasn't been too bad."

"Can I come in?" Joe asked, and entered when Pip nodded. "Mrs. Joe seems to be in a crazy mood, don't you think?"

The blond teen sighed. "So she told you I was late again?"

"Hey, now, don't look so glum, friend." Joe put a hand on his shoulder. "She just gets worried, y'know? She doesn't mean to…well, you know…"

"Yes. I'm quite alright, though, Joe."

"School was alright, yeah?" The older man changed the subject, understanding that Pip didn't want to talk about his sister.

"It was." Pip forced a smile, trying not to remember why he'd been late home in the first place. "I'm doing very well in all of my classes."

"Ey, now, that's my boy!" Joe exclaimed proudly, ruffling Pip's hair with a grin. "You're going to do good things, Phillip." The young blond felt a surge of pride flow through him at Joe's words. He knew that the man was being sincere, and that he truly was proud of Pip, and it made the boy feel like he really could do something good. It was moments like these that helped him hold on for just one more day; being treated like he was an actual person and not just someone's punching bag.

"Thanks, Joe," he said, wiping away tears that had started spilling. He gasped quietly as he noticed makeup on his hand. Joe let out a long breath as he noticed the now-exposed bruise on Pip's cheek. "I'm alright, Joe, really. It doesn't hurt."

"Oh, Phillip." And there it was. The heart-broken look in the older man's eyes whenever he discovered what his wife had done. There was a long awkward pause, neither really knowing what to say. Then, Joe gave a small, sad smile. "Hey, your guardian angel must've been a bit busy today, huh? Have you prayed recently. I've found that it helps me quite a lot."

"I've not really prayed in a while," Pip admitted. Not that it ever worked anyway.

"Ah, well there you go! Your guardian angel must've lost you, then! Pray tonight, Phillip, so they can find you again, hm? Will you do that for me?"

"Of course, Joe." Pip smiled, happy to do anything the man told him to do if it would make him less worried. "I'm sure that'll do the trick just fine."

"Alright, then, my dear friend!" Joe pulled him into a hug before standing. "Take care of that bruise, now, and remember to pray. I'm going downstairs to help your sister with the dishes."

"Goodnight, Joe. I…"

"Goodnight, Phillip." Joe smiled warmly as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Pip sighed quietly before getting on his knees beside his mattress. Prayers had never worked for him before – he'd long since stopped believing that any higher power cared for him. However, Joe had asked him to pray tonight, and he'd be damned if he broke a promise to the only man who'd ever treated him like an actual human being.

"Please, if there's anybody listening, I could really use some help," he began, closing his eyes. He remembered what Joe had said about his guardian angel being lost. "If someone's out there looking after me, you must be quite lost. Well, I'm just letting you know that I'm right here, where I've always been. Please, come and help me. I just want others to treat me with the same respect they give everyone else. I'm so lonely, if you could help me find just one friend, one who truly cares about me, I'd appreciate it. Joe's nice, but he's got so much to worry about. I don't want him to worry anymore."

He opened his eyes, looking out his window and staring at the moon as if it were listening. He shook his head, standing and beginning his nightly routine. He seriously doubted that anyone was truly listening, but he supposed that it did feel nice to speak what was on his mind, even if it were only to the moon.

Little did he know, however, that someone was listening, and had been for a long time. That someone knew that know was the time to finally act upon the blond's requests, as was part of the plan.