Broken to pieces. Shattered to bits. Though it was always covered with a smile. They acted like there was nothing wrong. They acted like everything was perfectly okay. They laughed, they grinned. They pretended as if their lives weren't crumbling to dust. They wore masks, facades, that only came off when they were alone, when no one could see them. Until, one day, they saw right through each other.
…
His eyes were bleary when he opened them and had to blink a few times so he could see straight. His head was throbbing, his vision swimming, as he pushed himself off the floor into a sitting position. Where was he? He recognized his bed, the blue bedspread mused as always, unfinished homework scattered on the floor and and desk, his untouched textbooks spilling out of his beat-up backpack. He was home, but why was he on the floor? As he started to wake up, his senses sharpened and he looked around. Blood. He could feel it trickling down his forehead, weaving it's way through his black hair. He had hit him with a bottle the pervious night. He was drunk again, no surprise there, when the young man got home from work. For some reason, he was pissed off and decided that it would be okay to colober his step-son upside the head with his half full beer bottle. Not only was there blood on his carpet and dried in his hair, he also reeked of the foul stench of beer.
He dragged himself off the floor, immediately clutching onto the wall for support as his vision went around and around in circles. After a few minutes, it cleared and he snuck off towards the bathroom, praying that he was still knocked out. He made it without being caught by him or his mom and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked empty. Broken. A shell of who he used to be. His black hair was crusted with blood, his sea-green eyes looked hollow. Dark bags hung underneath them, making him looking twenty years older than his eighteen years of age. He looked pale and exhausted. He looked like a mess. He was a mess.
…
"Who are you trying to impress, sweetheart? With a body like that, you'll never catch anyone's attention!" The blonde bit her lip and kept her head down, ignoring the taunts that pierced her like needles. The sad thing was, she was used to this by now. She got it at school and home. It seemed like she couldn't catch a break.
"Hey! Don't walk away from me!" The girl, Violet, exclaimed and stamped her foot.
When the blonde didn't acknowledge her, she marched right up to her, her black heels stamping on the ground and caught her by her blonde curls.
She cried out, dropping all the books in her arms and letting them fall to the floor. Violet shoved her into the wall, watching in satisfaction as she hit the lockers with a yelp and fell to the ground.
"That'll teach you, Annie." Violet growled before turning on her heel and walking away, her friends, who were laughing throughout the whole exchange, following her down the hall. The small, incredibly thin, blonde girl slumped against the lockers and curled into a ball on the ground. Tears stung her eyes as she finally moved to pick up all her books. She wouldn't cry. She refused to cry. That would only give them satisfaction. Still, a traitor tear slipped from her silver-gray eyes and she let it roll down her cheek. She felt someone's gaze on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. She had seen him before, but had never personally talked to him. His green eyes are sad and compassionate and she immediately looks away. She doesn't want his pity. She doesn't need his pity. She was fine.
She gathered the rest of her books and shakily stood up, ignoring the headache that was starting to form, and walked down the hall. She could feel the boy's gaze on her back the entire time.
….
He pressed his back against the wall, tears escaping his brown eyes. This couldn't be happening. No, it couldn't.
"Oh, look! The wimp is crying!" One boy taunted as he passed and the girl beside him giggled.
The boy with dark hair swiped angrily at the tears, but they wouldn't stop.
"What's wrong with him?" One girl whispered.
"He's just a baby."
"Why is he crying?"
"That's just stupid. He doesn't show emotion."
"It's probably just for attention?"
"What, do you need your mommy?"
The last one made him snap. He stood quickly, his face a mask of rage. Everyone took a few steps back, their eyes wide as the boy in the leather jacket stomped past them.
Drake Evans had a smug smirk on his face as the dark haired boy ran away.
"That's right! Run! Go find your mom, you wimp!" He called after him, a couple of his boy laughing.
He sprinted out of the school, despite the fact that it was the middle of the day. He hopped onto his motorcycle and pulled out of the school parking lot, heading to the only place he could think of to go. He pulled up there a few minutes a few minutes later and approached the building. Nobody stopped him as he entered, everyone know who he was. He opened the door and sat in the chair that had recently become his bed. He reached for her hand and clasped it tightly. Tears stung his eyes and his lower lip wobbled.
"Hi, Mom." His voice broke as he collapsed into a round of sobs.
…
"God, you're such a slut, Grace!" The girl scoffed, an annoying giggle bubbling from her perfectly glossed lips.
The girl gritted her teeth. "Give me back my clothes and look in a mirror!" She growled.
She waved around her clothes tauntingly. "Maybe this will teach you a lesson about leaving your clothes around while showering. I mean, I've always known that you were sluty, but now you're showing your true colors!" She wrinkled her bunny-like nose. "Very white and pale, if I say so myself."
"Good thing I wasn't asking you!" She spat. "Now give me back my clothes before I break your face!"
The girl rolled her eyes before turning on her heel. "Next time." She growled. "Think twice before you insult me!"
She walked out of the locker room without another glanced, leaving the pale girl shivering in nothing but her small towel. Every fiber in her body screamed. She hated that girl. She hated her so much. She wasn't a slut or a whore or a hoe. She was normal… right? Right…
She didn't know what to do next. She had extra clothes, but they were in her locker on the other side of the school. She could always put her gym clothes back on, but that… thing took her bra and then she really would look like a slut. She slid down the tiled wall, wrapping the towel around her shivering body. She dropped her forehead to her knees, feeling miserable.
….
Broken, bruised, and battered.
One event brings the four strangers together.
Four Strangers. Four problems. All shattered.
...
A/N: Hello, world! Tessa K, here! So, you just read my latest story, but whether I continue it or not is completely up to you! Honestly, it started out as a one-shot in my head, but I decided that it would make a pretty interesting story! I hope you guys liked it, please make sure to leave a review and tell me if I should continue or not. I might, I might not, it all depends on how busy I am!
xoxo,
Tessa K