The school day eventually came to a close. Adam, though, had spent the rest of the day in the 'handicapped' bathroom, trying his hardest not to cry. And, it wasn't that he didn't want to, because, trust me, he did; but more so as to, he didn't want people to know that he actually cared. Most to the fact that pity is terrible, in his eyes, at least. Just the fact that all you hear is "I'm sorry" or "Is there any way I can help" isn't helpful. Because, in all honesty, no, no one can help, because, you either feel that you are asking too much of the person, or too little, to make them feel unwelcomed.

As Adam slowly and quietly opened the storm door of his basement. Slowly, he tipped inside, being quiet because he didn't want his mother to see him. Trying not to make notice that he was home. As he walked through the basement, he heard his mother stomp into the doors. Nervously, he fell back, falling into the table. His side shot up with pain as the wood slammed against his bruised flesh and skin. He loudly yelped in pain, but quickly regretting it as he heard his mom yell his name.

"Adam! Adam, is that you? Did you get hurt?" Mr. Torres yelled as she came down the steps.

Adam tightly clasped his hands around his sides and breathed through his clenched teeth. Every breath hurt like Hell, as if needles were stabbing a bruise. His lips quivered, and his hands shook ferociously. Adam's grip let go of his side after the friction between the warmth of his hands, and his throbbing pain became too much for him to hold. As he let go, his hands shook rapidly, and he almost wanted to fall over and faint.

Immediately, Mrs. Torres' face shot up with a sickened pale. "A-….Adam? Did they?" she paused, "Did th-," and again, "well," And once more, "Did they hurt you?"

Adam stared in shock, but not in a shock in which she found out; but in a shock that she literally just asked that question. This must've been the fifth time this had happened to him this year. That he had come home with intense cuts and bruises; which was what amazed him so much. That she literally questioned if it was true.

"Seriously, Mom?" Adam furiously squeezed the large cut down his arm.

She didn't speak, as if she was disappointed in herself.

"Mom," he stopped, "Mom, please, I think you know."

She hesitated to speak, "W-we can transfer an-"

"And leave Drew miserable? And leave my friends? Mom, leaving will obviously just cause more problems."

"But, obviously this is a pro-"

"Problem, I know. Mom, you were the one person who always encouraged me not to run away from problems. But look at yourself; we've transferred twice because of 'problems'."

"It's cause I'm worried about you!" she yelled.

Taken back, Adam sighed and ran into the bathroom. He locked the door, leaving the pressure of his fingers to fire through the door. He sighed and felt his breathing to become much choppier and much more hesitant.

With his lips quivering, his grip became loose (due to the fierce shaking that his hands were performing as if they were dancing around, just to break free.) Lifting his hand in mid-air, he stared at it, as he watched the control of his body completely break. It was almost heart breaking, realizing that his whole so-far-life, he had allowed himself to run away from this problem without much hesitance. It was ridiculous that his mom ignored her own teachings.

He took off the large, plaid, baggy shirt, and placing it next to him, hanging off the sink's edge. Adam crossed his arms over his stomach, and grabbed the ending tips of his Navy-blue under-shirt. Pulling it up and off of his body, he threw it to the ground. Placing his trembling hands onto the ledges of the sink, he grabbed under it, and stared at himself in the mirror.

"…Tell me you're there. Wait, no, don't tell me, and don't whisper fake words into my ear. I believe that you are there somewhere. Just, why doesn't everyone else? I try to show you every day, every second, every way of life, but it's like, you're scared. Sometimes, I sit and think you aren't. That, you aren't there. You know… give up hope. Please, show me that you're there. Prove them wrong."

He paused and took a long deep breath.

"Please."

And, with a tear leaving his cheek, he walked away.

The End.