Title: Hidden Messages

Author: Crystal Charmer

Genre: Drama/Angst

Rating: R

Warnings: Some violence, frequent strong language, some drug issues, some sexual issues, issues of abuse and self-harm

Summary: There is a strange, desolated boy in the school; outcast and unwanted by everyone. You won't understand him when you look at him, but his eyes hold hidden messages that once you discover: will haunt you forever.

Disclaimer: All characters recognized in the Faculty movie are under copyright of Robert Rodriguez and Dimension Films. The female character belongs to Shooting Starlight but at the moment, however, is unnamed.

-oOo-

Chapter 1 – Unnoticed

Chatters and uproarious laughter echoed from the mint painted hallways and dispersed, often before they had a chance to be heard. Bitter curses and shouts ricocheted beyond the ceiling and directed themselves towards the teachers, who watched the speakers with their grey, robotic gaze.

"Watch your mouth, young man," was a phrase they often tossed around.

Of course it made no difference. But did anyone expect it to?

Wine-stained tissue rubbed angrily at the piercing cut on his cheek, biting his lip a little from the way it stung when he touched it: almost like nettles scraping against his flesh. He pulled it away and stared at it with a frustrated sigh.

Fucking school.

He tossed it away into the corner of the cubicle, noticing it flop to the floor in a rosy pulp, and it vanished from sight. Shakily, he stood up, his feet barely holding him, and he somehow managed to make it to the bathroom mirror, surrounded by the architecture that was graffiti.

Slender fingers clenched the edge of the sink, almost for support to stop him falling down to the ground again. He stared into the centre of it, feeling dizzy.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Anxiety forced him to stare upwards at himself, his oceanic eyes staring back at him through the glass, almost scorning him as it offered him a good look. A good look at what he was.

A good look at Casey Connor.

He saw the bruising cut that lay like a scarlet trench across his cheekbone; alive and open and deep. His pale face that always carried a frown, the look of resentment – on a good day. Until then, it bore the fear that always crossed his mind whenever someone two feet taller than him came around the corner.

It was always the same routine for him every day. There wasn't any need for a schedule, or planners, to remind him of what was going to happen today. It was always the same.

He gazed directly into his own eyes, boring back at him through the sheet of glass. Cerulean waves of anguish and pain sprung back and drove themselves into him, penetrating every pore of his body. The words of others...the harm of their blows...it felt nothing compared to this.

Be suddenly felt dizzy again. However, he couldn't pull his gaze away from the hidden voice that seemed to be whirling in his head whenever he saw those eyes.

You're pathetic. You're nobody.

Look at yourself! You're a dismal wreck! You can't do anything right!

You should have died at birth. No one wants you. No one loves you. They all wish you were dead!

Everyone hates you! They know everything about you as soon as they look at you!

"No, they don't," Casey growled.

The loser, the class wuss, always wishing he was someone else! What else is there to know!

Casey stared into the sink again, feeling tears of anger building up behind his pulsing lids.

Just go ahead and kill yourself now. No one's gonna give a shit about you. They probably won't start looking for you straightaway – a couple of weeks and no one will even care!

He felt cold all over.

You don't have the guts to kill yourself, you little fuck! You're a coward! Go ahead then – stay here and suffer! Why stay here any longer? There's nothing here for you – just fucking kill yourself and be happy for once!

He felt the ground spinning beneath him. He clutched the sink tighter and held on for dear life. He felt his stomach moving and he shot his head up to stare into the mirror again, his face as drawn as a white sheet. Small beads of iced perspiration clung to his forehead.

Save yourself!

He gasped for air.

Escape from this hell!

"Ugh..."

Run away!

"Ug...Jesus – !" he choked, feeling his stomach rise to his throat and strangling him. He quickly cupped his hand over his mouth and raced back into the cubicle, retching into it. The wave of nausea took a while to pass before he had finally emptied everything inside, and he sighed slowly.

"Shit," he muttered bitterly, reaching up and grasping hold of the handle with a trembling hand and tugging it. The sound of the flush echoed in his ears and pounded the drums mercilessly like a violent waterfall. He slumped back onto the damp floor and leaned his head back against the cubicle wall, effortless tears shimmering on his cheeks.

Fucking pathetic.

-oOo-

By the time he had wiped his mouth clean and he had managed to stop his hands from shaking, he left the bathroom cubicle and headed out, shutting the door behind him. He exhaled a deep breath as he glanced at his watch on his wrist; a couple of minutes left until his next class.

He closed his eyes. He had only been here for a few hours and already things were taking a turn for the worst.

Let's hope it doesn't get any worse, he thought to himself as he shrugged his back over his shoulder and continued his journey down the empty corridors and turned the corner, wanting to arrive early and save himself from the bombardment that would most likely happen at the slightest tingle of the bell.

"Ugh – " he gasped out as he felt someone's shoulder collide with his cheek.

I guess these corridors weren't as empty as I thought they were.

"Hey!" a girl's voice responded callously, before Casey had a chance to apologise. "Watch where you're going, huh? Anyone would think you were blind!"

He stared at her, his face throbbing as he looked her up and down. She wasn't a very tall girl, although she was a few inches taller than him. She had short, russet coloured locks that hung down around her ears and the base of her neck, tickling the collar of her dark red shirt. Her bag was tossed over one shoulder and it hung at her hip, resting comfortably against the hip of her black, velvet trousers. Her chocolate irises blinked at him, and an eyebrow quirked.

"What, are you deaf as well?" she smirked.

Bitterly, Casey rubbed the sting from his cheek and glared at her, continuing on his way. "Sorry," he muttered.

He remembered her now. He had seen her a few times wandering the schools, although he had no idea who she was. Besides, this was the first time he had seen her alone. She always used to be mingling with a small group of friends, chatting away silently about things that no other human beings were supposed to hear.

Casey didn't care what they were talking about. He just walked on by as quickly as he could to avoid contact with them – or their remarks.

"Wait a minute!" he heard her call out to him seconds later, her tone sounding slightly suspicious. "Wait – I've seen you before!"

Big fucking whoop.

He ignored her, sighing deeply and tossing his strap higher onto his shoulder to prevent it from slipping. "I said I was sorry," he replied, his words small and sour.

Just ignore her. Ignore her, and she'll eventually go away. Keep walking.

His trainers squeaked against the waxed floor as he neared the corner, picking up his pace to provide as much distance from that girl as possible. His gaze travelled to the doors of the classrooms, full of students who looked eager to leave as they sat there with their chins cupped in their palms. One boy had fallen asleep on his desk in the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

As he stared into the glass panes on the front of the doors, he almost stopped dead, as his eyes met with their reflection again: a mirror of ocean's glass that shattered and pierced his heart and his muscles, causing him to loose control of himself, and all he could see and hear was the torment and anguish of the thoughts hidden in those eyes:

Pathetic little geek – can't do anything right!

Everyone makes fun of you! They laugh at you behind your back – they want you to suffer!

They don't care about you! They wish you were dead!

"Whoa – !" he cried out as he felt his feet slip out from beneath him, finding himself falling backwards. He grasped for the corner of the wall to steady his legs, but he found them sprayed out on the ground before he could even think about it.

It was then that he heard her voice again. Apparently she had been trying to get his attention for a while now. "Hey, I tried to tell you, dumbass!" she shouted out to him, jogging over to his side with a roll of her eyes. "The floors just been waxed over here, the janitor left a warning, see? Can't you read?"

Casey snapped his eyes to the right. Sure enough, there was a stand there, just next to the slippery surfacing. It read: Caution: Slippery floor.

Figures, Casey thought with irony.

"Oh. Right," he mumbled awkwardly, feeling more stupid by the second. He pressed his hands against the floor to hoist himself up, when he suddenly felt a sharp, electrifying ache shoot up and down his left wrist with astonishing speed. He halted his movements and grimaced.

"Ow!" he hissed, rolling it around in his other hand like an incised block of wood. "Dammit."

The girl noticed that he was in pain and she cocked her head to one side, clenching her teeth together uncomfortably. "Are you okay?" she asked him, her tone softer. She knelt down on one knee and stared into his blushing face.

Casey looked away. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Ooh," she proclaimed with anxiety, biting her lip with a look of agonised pity. "God, that looks painful."

His sight focused on his skinny wrist, where it seemed to be swelling by the second, turning scarlet as the bumped skin grew its blemish. He sighed and squeezed his eyes together as it pounded with a fresh wave of pain.

"What happened?" she asked him helpfully, reaching out gently to inspect it.

"I fell down," he replied, his eyelids still tightly shut.

He heard a scoff of amusement escape from her lips, followed by a small chuckle. "Well, duh," she answered, carefully taking hold of his pale skin in her soft fingers and supporting it lightly with a puzzled face. "Hmm."

Casey suddenly realised that she was so close her coffee coloured hair was tickling the crease of his elbow. She was so close he could smell her shampoo – it smelt oddly of strawberries. He gulped and made an attempt to shift away, his cheeks burning and his eyes suddenly becoming interested in his shoelaces.

He didn't usually like being this close to someone he'd never met before. Especially if that 'someone' was a girl. He felt ridiculous for some reason.

"It looks like it's sprained," she finally told him, her tone carrying a hint of concern. She took hold of his good arm and tried to drag him to his feet. "Come on," she said kindly. "I'll take you to the nurse – "

"N-no, it's okay," stammered the humiliated boy, struggling to stand up carefully, as sometimes the soles of his trainers danced on the wax again. He clung onto the mint-coloured wall for support, turning his face into it so she couldn't see the crimson blots on his cheekbones. "It will...be fine – it doesn't even hurt."

She sighed in exasperation. "Oh, don't be stupid! You've sprained your wrist – it's swollen up like an airbag, for fuck's sake! If it gets any bigger your arm will explode! You've gotta get some ice on it – !"

"I don't need any ice," choked Casey, dropping to his knees and unzipping his bag, yanking out his jacket which played a fun game with its owner as it tangled its arms in the strap for a while.

She folded her arms. "God, you're one stubborn bastard," she muttered venomously, taking hold of his arm once again. "But I'm not gonna jet off to class unless I know it's been looked at."

"Get off me," Casey droned quietly, flinging his jacket over his shoulders and slipping his arms into it, successfully hiding the swollen bump that was now his new left wrist.

"Jesus Christ – " she started, grabbing a handful of the navy blue material; but what happened next shocked her.

Casey tugged himself away from her snatching fingers and backed away, his eyes flaring up with a strange, poisonous look, one that couldn't be described merely by gazing at it. It was a mixture of pain and horror and misery, along with some of the darkest thoughts imaginable tossed in as well.

The girl blinked in surprise, her hand ready to reach out, but it seemed to be paralyzed – held up in the air by the amount of amazement that had just kicked her in the stomach. "Err..." she began stupidly.

"I said, leave me alone," he whispered bitterly, small droplets of warm tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

A strong sense of pity immediately warmed inside of her at the sound of the clogged, despaired tone in his voice. "Hey, look – " she started to say, but was cut off when the bell suddenly sounded menacingly around the school buildings, and the scraping of chairs filled their ears, like the sound of a million droning hummingbirds.

He jumped slightly at the sound of it. "I've gotta get to class...now," Casey warbled out, breaking his eye contact with her and pushing through the small space between them for a chance of escape. He didn't want to be stampeded by a mountain of chattering, violent students.

But she still couldn't loose the image of the anguish in those eyes as he had glared at her, even if he had just disappeared down the halls, and there wasn't really a chance that she would see him again. She knew that she would be haunted by that look forever.

So much pain, she thought to herself. Who could have caused that?

As she remembered the look, she almost thought that it had been hiding hidden messages; messages that now appeared in her head when she pictured the clear blue of that boy's eyes:

Don't look at me!

Turn your head away, don't look at me. I'm pathetic...I'm nobody...

Leave me alone...don't touch me...

Don't look at me...