Chapter Two

NOTE!

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This was not even close to being as grand of a day as it should have been, it was a paradise; the sun was out, high and mighty radiating heat of about thirty degrees Celsius. Not a could in the bright blue sky that proudly hung far over the ground like a first place ribbon, the birds chirped, dogs barked, it was beautiful out.

But me? I felt like I had run a race, endured the most, and still come in last place. I was about to die of some overheating crisis. Here I was, waiting for my bus in long blue jeans that didn't give you an inch of skin to gawk at, and a simple, yet heavy and just as covering black hoodie, with nice black sunglasses to match. Spending two hours at the mirror to cover up my black eye and cheek and also have it passing as 'natural' was something that proved a challenge. But I managed. It was only slightly noticeable. Of course that is with about fourty thousand layers, and eighty two pounds of make up, and for what? I felt it slowly melting off my face in the heat. Dreadful, murderous sun. Why did we have the god forsaken sun?

Dimmorta today, and most days, was not meant for clothing such as mine, but damn, I just look to cute in the get up, how could I resist? Or more accurately, no one else seems to be getting into big boxing matches without gloves, and being the practice punching bag for their fathers. Well, mom always said I was different and special… Not what she was most likely going for, but its what the facts are rolling in. I am an outcast, and don't I know it?

I looked like I had been the victim of some irate painter that was a little to exited over the colours blue, green, purple and scab red, what a wonderful work of art I looked like! Of course, I was not letting anyone oogle this work of art. And to top things off I was also positive that I had more than one broken bone, and of course found myself wincing much more than once, as I shifted trying to make the devastating throbbing from stopping in my feet and legs. Make that five. Lucky for me, my ribs had taken most of the heat last night, and that also allowed for my need appendages to have a little less trouble today. A little. But that wall did seem to take a nice beating from my body, I sure showed it who was the boss round these parts. Its got a Angelique shaped indent, very hip and new, everyone should have one. And on top of that even, the scrapes from my fall. For all I knew I was going crazy and that I had imagined the guy as a comfort to my clumsy self. Being me, it seemed a reasonable explanation.

Accept on how real his hand felt when he helped me up… Who ever this 'he' person was. I never got a name. I was never asked for mine, and never had he offered up his own name. Finally, that big ugly yellow bus pulled around the corner like a lazy fat smoker, with just as much smoke putting behind it, and at last came to a wheezing stop before me, the bus driver looking on at me, who was obviously getting heat stroke already, with amusement. Yes, people tend to take pleasure from my pain, serves me right for being a 'bother' to my father. I can see now why I love people so much.

My hands were already clammy; I was sweating due to the heat, and the agony I was feeling, even after a shot of morphine, via my dad's home nurse… Who for the record thought I fell down the stairs again, again as in the… One hundred and second… No! First time, and made me sit threw one of her painfully long lectures of how I am a damn attraction for trouble and chaos, and not to go running near no damn stairs to make her life harder, oh, and how I shouldn't put more stress on my father because of it, he is such a great, hard working man. Makes you just want to scream what really happened. But never was I to do that, even if it stopped the pain, I would be thrust on the streets, or into a house were I new no one. I rather be beat than in a strange place.

Must make me weird.

Oh well. As I said, dumped on the head to much as a child.

I climbed the bus steps with great caution. Eyes closed and teeth clenched. I then stood a moment, the door closed, and the bus driver, Freddie, chuckled before he started to drive. I nearly fell flat on my ass right then and there. But I managed to stay upright and walk down eight rows of seats to sit in the sanctuary of my seat at the back of the bus.

It wasn't so bad, besides the pain at every single bump in the road. But half an hour after getting on, and ten people later, we were at Dimmorta High School. Hell away from hell.

Later that day, at lunch

God, math and science first in the day was absolutely and undeniably a living hell that no one disserved. Obviously, I seemed to 'disserve' this, as it happened EVERY single day for a whole blasted semester. I hate, hate, hate, no, I loath with the fieriest passion, every fucking number in the world, and every chemical, and… God. I just despise the subjects. I despise school. I despise my home. I despise my dad (though at least he gets some love from me, his little darling child whom he loves back so very, very much)

But it was lunch. Time to eat, though as my jaw was soaring as a bitch I knew ahead of time it wasn't going to be an easy task. Walking towards my table, as in MY table, alone, no one ever sitting there, it was always left for me. And it was… Full… There were five strange kids…

Then I recognized one of them from the boy last night, my eyes felt like they were going to pop. He had a bloody twin also. As I looked at the five at my table, I felt anger flooding over me, most likely because of the surge of pain my body just got also, as some dumb fuck bounces off me, nearly taking me down. Storming over with a wild look of anger on my face, I stopped, with my back pack nearly weighing me down, and obviously nearly empty, and hands on hips, sun glasses still on causing a near run in with the table and about five people. I mean… It looked so much farther off than I thought…

"Excuse me, this is my table", I stormed, like I was queen of the mother fucking world, because I AM queen of at least THIS mother fucking world. They looked up, and continued to eat without talking, not a single word to me, just SITTING there, unmoved by me, who having had multiple bones fractured, was absolutely pissed. What arrogant little pricks! So much for the hot godly guy being a nice person.

"I SAID, this is MY mother fucking table. MINE. As not yours you dumb fucks, get bent and find your own goddamn table!"

Not really a smart thing to say, because right then the biggest of them, a boy about six foot, and totally ripped, got up with a start, staring down at me, for a fleeting moment I let panic reach me. I nearly flinched at him. Boy did that send images of my father to me. I clenched my aching fists together, biting the inside of my mouth for control. I don't know why my father flashed threw my mind, he was tall, true, but my dad was a pot bellied pig, and this guy was ripped out of his mind.

"Sorry miss, but this here table is currently being used"

The guy was so intimidating, and his voice was threatening, with such a false kindness oozing with insincerity. God that pissed me off how easily he was scaring me. Last night my date was tall, like my dad. But this guy, his eyes, or something was truly making me feel like I was taking on my dad. But I refused to let people see the fear I had of this new guy.

I stuck out my finger, and poked him in the chest region.

"Mine, ask anyone here. I am the freak who sits at this table, every mother fucking day, alone, Boo, run along, piss off," I pause and then say in a false sugary sweet voice, "Please and thank you"

That's when that ape, as if trying to show how retarded I seemed, poked me. For the record… I knew I was acting like a stupid little kid. Not hard, but it hit me in one of my ribs, one of which I am MORE than sure is broken now, fucking fireball of pain shooting every which direction. And I just doubled over in pain. I felt hot embarrassment flow to my cheeks. The guy was very surprised and shocked, and even looked guilty.

Hot tears were in my eyes, I had to get out of there as soon as possible. I got up fast, thus hurting myself further, the boy that I assumed was the one that helped me last night had a look as if he felt sorry for me.

"Your lucky I am still recovering from the underground fight I had the other night, cause I would squash you like a fucking bug"

That's when I turned about in a huff, after I had a pain filled, but convincingly pissed off voice, as I exited the eating hall, put my head up and stormed out trying to cling to what pride I had left, with the most obvious limp. Of course I stormed right out the school and into the path of the little forest out back. That's when I let the tears fall. The moist salty liquid did a dance down my cheeks, ruining the cover up I had left and had not been melted and destroyed by the goddamn heat and humidity.

I never let anyone see me fall apart, not even my dad. He saw me scream angrily, fight. But never break, never fall apart. But here I was, hiding in the trees and doing just that, out of the sight of anyone's scrutinizing eyes. How agonizing it was to have those eyes on you for all the wrong reasons, every sob and heave had a new burning sensation of pure, unadulterated agony. Yes, Unadulterated agony. Does that make sence? Fuck if I know, it just hurts a bitch!

And that tall boy, who ever he was that guy seemed to have my mind sending me warnings. My subconscious was telling me to keep away. He would be just like my father. But in my mind I knew something was stranger than that, that there was more than the fear he struck deep into my heart. But here I was thinking as I fell apart, now how many people could multitask like me? I deserve a gold medal. Now, that's when I felt a hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump in shock, causing pain, thus causing more tears, and the most disgusting, ragged gasp scream noise ever to 'grace' my innocent ears.

How embarrassing.

I lived to be strong, to hide what happened behind closed doors. And now I was starting to sweat and over heat. Trying to reign in my rollercoaster of emotions as the person again had a gentle hand on me, pulling me in and holding me, no questions asked, didn't know the real me, most likely one of the students that knew I was an outcast, thought I was some druggy… Or some rapist hiding in the bushes and feeling bad for me. Soft comforting sounds whispered in a beautiful voice to my ear along with the thunder of my erratic heart.

"Shhh. Its okay", the voice said gently, "just let it out"

For some strange reason I felt safe in the arms of this stranger, as I could not see who it was threw the thick fall of salty tears. My body was convulsing in pain and also because of the deepening sobbing. The embarrassment was leaving me, it felt… Freeing, to let out all of the bottled emotions, it felt liberating to have someone who acted they cared. I was letting out all seventeen years of hardships out.

Even if it couldn't be true, it was a good feeling. But then I realized what I was doing, I let my walls come tumbling down in front of someone. I pulled back and flinched. Then that beautiful deep, yet somehow light voice spoke to me calmly.

"Did he poke you hard?"

I sniffed and felt confusion sinking in. What… Did who poke me hard…?

"Oh… No, he didn't, just in a soar spot, as I said, late night underground boxing match"

One of the guy's hands rubbed my back lightly, despite the bruises and bones that were more than likely broken, it didn't hurt. The light touch felt healing… No… It felt… Numbing. I had finally taken notice to the fact that we were both on the ground, and my face was buried in a firm chest with a cinnamon scent. I love cinnamon… I had gone to move off of the stranger to dry my eyes, but his one arm had become firm, his voice was low and soothing. I looked up at the stranger in question and instantly shock took over my entire body. It was the blonde boy, the one I saw last night, one of the new kids at the table. Our eyes connected, and as if locked, they would not move from his own.

He had a frown furrowing his handsome face. He was beautiful, my lord I think I fell in love with him, his brown eyes with such light, concern in them. He was looking right at me, directly, he wasn't looking threw. It looked like he actually cared.

But he didn't know me, I was a snob to his friends or family, what ever they were, and him, I did give them one hell of a welcome though, one they wont soon forget… So they all would most likely hate me, even if for some reason, he didn't. Why would someone care after all that was thrown in their faces. He stopped rubbing my back now, but I felt nothing, but my eyelids were so heavy. I felt them being pulled down by invisible weights. I clung to him, even if I was kneeling on the ground, again our eyes connected.

And everything goes black…