**UPDATE: If you're just starting to read this now, I'd much prefer if you read the version over on Archiveofourown . org because there's a ton of things I've fixed over on that site. :) Add this to the end of org for quick access. /works/463527/chapters/799707

Adam:

I stalked my way through the main hallway, sticking close to the lockers, and never looking up. I was like this dark aura in a crowd of joyous souls. Students passed me, laughing and chatting away about their petty lives. I felt completely out of place. Being around this many people always made me uncomfortable. Too bad I had to do this almost every day. No one even threw me a glance. But it always felt like everyone was staring. They had no idea what anyone right next to them might be going through, nor would they actually give a shit. I could have had a heart attack right then and no one would even notice.

They were all the same; selfish, greedy teenagers with a passion for excitement and ignorance. To them, I was the freak. No one ever tried to make conversation with someone like me. If anyone did speak to me, it was always to harass. I was intimidating to them, just because I was different. I was rather tall, standing at a height of six foot one, which made me tower over most of them and repel them off even more. But what really made them uncomfortable around me was the slight black liner smeared around my eyes. It's not even like I wore a lot of eyeliner, it was because in this society, men wearing makeup was considered ridiculous. My dishevelled ebony hair did a fine job of covering my eyes when I stared at the ground. I didn't have much of a wardrobe; I usually only wore jeans, a t-shirt, a pair of black boots, and a long, black trench coat to top it all off.

I was perfectly fine with having no friends or anyone to talk to; no one would understand. It sounds cliché, but it's the utmost truth when it comes to me. Their fake smiles and friendships sickened me. I saw the lies behind their expressions. I saw how behind their mask of comradeship, was a plot to take down their own friends just to gain a higher social status. Why would I waste my time with people like that? It was disgusting. I had lost faith in humanity a long time ago.

In a way, I guess I was almost jealous of their easy lives. They all had it going for them. Even though they all struggled with things, I doubted any of them had it worse than me. I was trapped in a nightmare. The shooting aches in my sides only proved that. Every step I took left me winded. Sharp, stabbing pains all over my body made it a difficult voyage to even walk. But I couldn't tell any of them about my predicament, because it would only make it that much worse for me. I was trapped in silent agony, with no way out.

At least school was a lot safer than that Hell I was forced to call home where I was beaten to a pulp on a near daily basis. My father just so happened to be a professional wrestler a long time ago. Now he's just a drunk with a lot of muscle to abuse. He had no compassion, let's just say that. Sure, I could move out. I was eighteen after all. But where the hell would I go? My closest relatives lived in Los Angeles, and there was no way I could ever make it there, though it was the one place I once wanted to reach to pursue my forgotten dream of becoming a singer. That would never happen with the circumstances I had to live with. So relatives were scratched off the list. I could move into a friend's house… if I had any. Unless I wanted to die in those merciless streets, I was stuck with an equally horrible fate.

I was already panting by the time I got to class; the pain from my beatings was too much sometimes. It was hard to try to hide it from the world, because my body would be begging for help, but my mind was refusing. I bit my lip to keep from wincing from a sudden knot in my thigh as I stepped through the doorway of my last period class. The second I limped in, my English teacher, Mr. Davidson, and the rest of the class turned to gawk at me. I was late. Shit. |It felt like they were all staring at me with amused expressions on their faces, but that was probably my paranoia at work. I wanted to turn on my heel and walk straight out of the classroom. I hated the attention. I just couldn't stand people.

"Mr. Lambert, you're late again. That's the twentieth time this month," Mr. Davidson growled, clearly furious. My head turned slightly to look up at him with a blank expression on my face. Like I gave a fuck what he thought, not like he knew I couldn't walk any faster without crying out in pain. He glared at my face, "Detention after school. Don't be late for that. Now sit down."

I said nothing, and did as he asked, trying my best to ignore the multiple heads turned in my direction. Detention wasn't the worse thing in the world. Detention just meant that I had a real excuse to go home later than normal, and I would take that any day. I brushed past Mr. Davidson and headed to the back of the class, looking up once for my usual seat. That's when I noticed someone sitting there. In my seat. What the fuck? Who the hell was that kid? I'd never seen him before. I was halfway to the desk before he looked up at me with a casual glance and I stopped dead in my tracks, glaring at him like he just murdered a baby. Who-ever-the-fuck-he-was, shrunk back a little, surprised by my appearance and probably the death glare I was shooting at him.

"Mr. Lambert? Today?" I heard Mr. Davidson say impatiently from the front of the class. Well, I guess I couldn't do anything about it with that ass-wipe teacher in the room.

I scoffed quietly in annoyance and plopped down onto the only empty seat which happened to be next to the new kid. Great. I sighed with relief, my muscles feeling instant release from the stress I'd been inflicting on their damaged tissues. My body throbbed with aches.

Class droned on and on. I didn't even pay any attention. I just opened my notebook and started writing down lyrics to one of the songs I was writing. My marks weren't something to be proud of. It's not that I was stupid, far from it actually. I just had no motivation to do any of the work, and sometimes, I just physically couldn't. My mind was always too cluttered with my own disturbing thoughts to focus on schoolwork. What was the point anyway, for me at least? These people all needed a proper education; they were all going somewhere with their lives. But I'd probably be dead in a few years or less anyway. It's not like my body could handle the abuse forever. My mind couldn't take much more of it either, and I might even crack one day from having all the pain buried deep inside, thus killing myself to be freed.

I glanced over at that new kid in my seat, disliking him immediately. Yes, that seat actually did have my name on it, courtesy of the pocket knife I carried. That kid had blond hair with various faint highlights and lowlights styled up, with the sides of his hair shorter than the rest of it. His face, from the angle I could see, was very attractive.

Oh, that was another thing. The main reason I was tortured at home was because I'm gay. Yeah, that's right. Only my father knew which that was a mistake all in itself, and no one else needed to know. I didn't think I could handle being beaten to a pulp everywhere I went for being a faggot. Another reason why I hate living in San Diego was because most people were so intolerant of something I couldn't even control. Most people here thought that being gay was a choice. Ha, yeah right, like I chose to be beaten up on a daily basis, like I chose to be hated by society. Trust me, if I could change it, I would. But there is no point in denying your orientation.

I then noticed his clothes. The blond was wearing a pair of brand name jeans, a button up, maroon, cotton shirt, and expensive looking sneakers. Of course he was probably rich. His parents probably had great jobs with great income. A torturous day for this kid would be if his parents denied him the Porsche he really wanted. I felt my dislike for him growing even more potent. He would without a doubt end up with the hotshot people of this school; sucked into their greedy little fantasy that completely blocked out the bigger picture.