Chapter 13

That day at school, Wyatt had received so many apologies and sad looks from everyone there. He was the most popular guy that everybody loved and because of that everyone knew of his mother's death, which actually annoyed him a little. Was nothing private anymore? The students at San Fran High also commented on the bandages that were wrapped around his hand.

Earlier on when he smashed the mirror Wyatt hadn't realised that he had cut his hand. It didn't need stiches which were good, but it still bled like open wound. So before going to school he stopped off at a pharmacy and brought some bandages. If only he could heal himself, he thought.

He continued on receiving even more questions asking if he was okay, which then followed the asking of the bandages. Refusing to answer anyone about it he just shoved it off and said that it was nothing, a sprained wrist is all. And throughout the morning Wyatt tried to avoid any more sympathetic people. He couldn't stand it anymore. They were like flies that would continuously stick to his skin.

Dragging himself into his biology class, Wyatt went to sit down at his desk but his teacher Mr Howard called him back.

"Wyatt, can I have a word?" He asked making Wyatt stop on his heels and groan. He watched everyone's eyes on him and the teacher. Wyatt just wanted to yell at them, spill out a smart-ass remark, anything just to shut them up. But he didn't want to get into trouble.

"What?" he asked rudely.

Mr Howard looked like he was going to chastise him about the greeting, but nudged his glasses instead with a sad expression.

"I want you to know, that if you ever need anything or any extra help. I'm just here." He announced, trying to make some sort of a way to cheer Wyatt up. Nothing would do that, his mother was dead.

Listening to his sentences Wyatt snorted loudly.

"Thanks, but no thanks." He acknowledged before returned to his desk.

Throwing his bag down with a large thump, the teenage boy rubbed his temples. His head pounded and the suffocating feeling was back, but not as bad as it was earlier. He could still feel a group of eyes staring at him and he pulled his head up to find Bonnie sitting next to him in her usual seat.

"Oh, it's you." He simply said, before continuing on. "Please don't ask me if I'm okay because I am god damn sick of hearing that."

Bonnie observed Wyatt as soon as he walked into the room. He looked like hell and that was no exaggeration. His normally straight and proud body was all loose and exhausted, his warm brown eyes had rings underneath them and his hair was all messy. She gazed at his hand and hoped to god that he hadn't done that to himself. Because as much as he'd been through he couldn't quit now.

Bonnie simply sighed when Wyatt had spoken to her and then looked away.

"I won't because I know you're not."

"Oh, smart girl and when did you figure that out?" He coldly said extending the 'oh'

Bonnie's mouth opened in shock and she quickly closed it up again. She had never seen him like this even though she hadn't seen him much. There was something wrong with him, something other than the pain and grief he was receiving from the event. She gazed away and whispered to him.

"Just because you're mother died, doesn't give you the excuse to be a jackass." She told him still looking away. "I was only trying to be nice."

"Well next time don't, because I don't care." The teenager threatened subtly whilst pulling his books out of his bag. He was then reminded of the time that she killed that demon.

"Oh and don't think that I forgot about that little trick you did two weeks ago. We still have to talk."

"I know! Why do think I've been sending you all those messages? Huh?" she whispered, trying to show anger but not trying to attract attention.

"Well, sorry. Don't guess I have the time to check my voicemail when I'm burying my mother's body!" he half yelled half whispered gathering the attention of some of the students around him.

"What? Take a picture it'll last longer." Wyatt mocked at a frail looking boy, who upon hearing Wyatt's voice turned away instantly.

"What is wrong with you?" Bonnie asked disgust clear in her voice.

"Maybe I'm just sick of this bullshit." He admitted throwing his books into his bag and then storming out of the classroom. Everyone's eyes then focused on Wyatt and once he had left the room, they turned into slight whispers which were directed at Bonnie, based only on negative things.