They were all guys on the street that liked to beat him. That girl in class that made him feel stupid. His awful aunt. His 3rd foster home parents, especially.
"You little freak! I don't care how much government money I'm getting for your delinquent butt, get out of my freakin' house!"
The streets themselves left shrapnels in his heart. All the people, the experiences, they left little holes in his well-being.
It did feel better when he hung out with friends, but he hid it from them. He covered up the holes. Of course he couldn't let them know. That would only hurt him more. Pity hurts too, you know.
And he wasn't the kind of person to go around reopening old wounds.
He wasn't sure way he ended up being the seventh wheel, but he would never ask for a pity party. He wanted someone by his side, someone to lean on, to be comforted by.
The others all had one. Why couldn't he?
But he was sure about one thing.
The one thing that hurt the most, the biggest jab of all.
His mother. Her death started the big snowball that decided to break his heart.
But he wouldn't dishonor her. He would keep on moving forward, going on with life.
He make a shield to keep away the jabs.