A couple of weeks went by and Mike and I became really good friends again. I mean, I had my time alone and so did he. We weren't connected at the hip or anything, we just got along really well. It was nice; I didn't see him much in school, but he was always around. And of course he had his friends he hung out with, but I didn't mind, of course. I wasn't about to steal him from his own individual social life just because I needed him a little more than he needed me.

Things got better. I still was hated at school for some unknown reason; I still was depressed; I still cut myself, but that was more out of habit than anything.

Mike was there for me, though. I'd get beat up in school, but he'd shut the fight down before it got out of hand. I was just glad to have my brother and only friend back. I wondered how long this was going to last.

Having Mike around really gave me a piece of mind. Most importantly, though, it gave me a person to fight for. He looked up to me for some reason, saying I was "strong", so I tried to get healthier for him. He didn't like seeing me in pain, and I didn't like setting that kind of example. No matter how weak I was, I still was the older brother.

So things were better for a while. What was that saying? It gets worse before it gets better? Well, that was definitely true. But I also learned that sometimes it got better before it got worse. This was my calm before the storm.

‘That’s not a good outlook on things, Vic,’ she said softly. I shook my head and frowned, my previous happy mood dissolving just as some clouds blocked the sun.

‘It’s more accurate than the other way around.’

“Mike, have you seen my headphones?” I called into my brother’s room. We were going to be late to school, but my headphones weren’t in their normal place. I wasn’t sure if I could get through the day without listening to music.

“Did you check your backpack?” he grunted as he hopped around on one foot, jamming his feet into his shoes.

“Yes,” I sighed. “Like fifty times,” I mumbled, rummaging through my backpack again. I raised my hands in defeat. “I can’t find them,” I said.

“You’ll be okay for the day without them,” Mike reassured. I wasn’t so sure about that, though. I could already hear my peers talking about me, I could already feel my hands shake in anxiety. “I’d lend you mind, but they are broken,” he added.

“It’s alright, thanks anyway,” I said glumly.

“Come on, we are going to be late,” he added. “Vic! Get dressed!” Mike laughed when he realized that I wasn’t even dressed yet. I was still in a plain t-shirt and boxers.

“Oops,” I said, racing unto my room and quickly throwing on clothes. I stuffed my hair into a snap back—I was going to have to go with wavy hair, today—and put on black skinny jeans, my black and white vans, a Nirvana t-shirt, and a flannel.

“Record time,” Mike acknowledged, and I muttered inaudible things under my breath as I started my car.

I knew this was going to be a bad day. Any day without a method of listening to music was bound to be a rough one. But it would hopefully just be one day, right? I tried to think of the brighter side of the situation, but sometimes that was just impossible for me.

“See ya later,” Mike said when we got to school, and he wandered off with some of his buddies. I sat in my car for a few extra minutes. At this time, I would normally be walking to class with music blasting through my head, but since I couldn’t do that, I decided to linger for a bit in here, listening to my car stereo.

After a few minutes, I got out of my car and walked with my head down to class. Hopefully nobody noticed me.

I was probably being too sensitive about not having my headphones. Except, it just didn’t feel right. Everything was just off balance and I had trouble focusing. I needed the music to calm me down; it was easy to ignore the snickers of assholes who bother me when I was plugged in, but, today, I could hear everything.

“Nice hair, today, fag! Did your hot iron break?”

“Fuentes! I’m doing a school project on self-harm! Can I borrow you as a bad example?”

“Hey, short shit!”

I heard a recognizable voice: Shane. “The walking dead! Everybody run, Satan’s here!” That one stung; ever since that day I broke Shane’s jaw, he has been relentlessly torturing me, always wishing death upon me.

I shook my head, not turning to any of the voices. The worst part about not being able to listen to my music was that I could hear the voices especially well. The ones in my head, I mean. Nobody likes you. You have no friends. Everybody wants you dead.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, though. Mike was my friend, at least. He didn’t want me dead. He just feels sorry for you. The only thing he feels for you is pity.

I sighed, slumping into my desk as the history teacher droned on and on about the past. That’s where you belong. History. The past. Kill yourself.

“Fuck,” I muttered. The voices were horrible, today; I couldn’t get them out. Maybe I should start taking my pills again, I thought.

Just then, I noticed a girl next to me. She looked shy—I’ve never heard her talk before. She was ferociously taking notes, so I figured she didn’t need the earphones on her desk. There were thirty minutes left in class, so maybe she would let me borrow them…

“Excuse me?” I tapped her on the shoulder tentatively, biting my lip nervously. I didn’t normally talk to people on my own, let alone girls. And this girl was pretty, too, with natural blond hair, soft brown eyes, and a lightly tanned skin.

“Yes?” she responded. She didn’t look disgusted at me, which was a start.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could please borrow your earphones for the rest of class?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Ha. I was pathetic. Here, I barely had the nerve to ask to borrow earphones. A normal guy would skip the music issue and just ask the girl out.

Her face softened into a smile as she reached for her earphones. “Oh, my God, no! Don’t do it, Kerri!” a voice hissed from behind me. I turned around and saw one of Shane’s friends snickering.

“And why not?” she snapped back.

“That’s Vic Fuentes, Ker! He’s dangerous,” he whisper-yelled loud enough so I could hear.

“I am not,” I defended myself, furrowing my eyebrows.

“He’s fine, Kurt. Leave him alone,” she glared at the kid—Kurt—and turned to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I smiled back as she handed me her earphones.

“Suit yourself, Kerri. If you want to get blood on your earphones, be my guest,” Kurt scoffed, and I clenched my fists. Kerri looked at me funny, and I sighed, all of a sudden not wanting to listen to music and just wanting to get the hell out of here.

“Good move, Fuentes,” Kurt said as I tossed the earphones back on to her desk.

“Ow!” I hissed in pain when Kurt’s grimy hands gripped my left arm roughly, intercepting it before I could bring it back to my own personal space.

“What do we have, here?” he smirked, yanking my flannel sleeve up. My face heated into a fiery red when he flipped my arm around, my scars and cuts visible for anybody within a three feet radius.

“Ew,” he said with a laugh, and suddenly a few other kids laughed as well.

“What a pussy,” a few scoffed. Tears burned in my eyes, but I wasn’t about to let them fall. I ripped my arm out of Kurt’s grasp, making the cuts sting even more. Kerri gave me a sympathetic look, but I looked away.

“What’s going on back there?” the teacher finally noticed the ruckus, eying us suspiciously.

I wanted nothing more than to leave this room, this school, this world, as twenty pairs of eyes stared back at me.

“Nothing,” Kurt spoke up with a smirk in his voice.

“Mr. Snidman?” Kerri began. I stared at her incredulously as she spoke.

“Can I take Vic to the nurse? He’s not feeling well,” she said. I looked at her appreciatively as our teacher nodded affirmatively.

I scooped up my belongings quickly and rushed out of the room with her. I barely made it out of the door before the tears flowed freely down my face.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head, sinking down against some lockers and burying my face in my arms.

“Thanks for that,” I managed to say, not looking her in the eyes because the last thing I wanted was for anyone to see me cry.

“Of course,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head again. “No, thanks,” I said. I probably should have just accepted her offer, though.

“Vic, don’t listen to them. They are all assholes,” she said, her voice genuine. I looked up and smiled appreciatively at her, sniffing back the last of my tears.

She smiled softly at me for a moment. I noticed that she had a nose ring—a hoop, just like mine—and it flickered nicely off of her face.

“I think you’re cute,” she blurted. Her eyes widened and she shut her mouth quickly, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink in embarrassment, as if she couldn’t believe she said those words. I blushed as well—I couldn’t believe she said that either.

I chuckled nervously. “Thanks,” I said. “So are you,” I added shyly.

She grinned at me for a moment, and then her face grew more serious.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but can I just ask one thing?”

I nodded. “Why?” she asked.

I bit my lip, subconsciously tracing my arm with my right hand. I shook my head. I couldn’t open up about it. Nobody understood.

“It’s okay. We all have problems. We all just cope with them differently, I guess,” she said, patting my shoulder reassuringly.

“Yeah,” I said lamely. “I guess I’m just the weaker of the bunch,” I muttered. Her eyes widened in alarm.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, her eyebrows furrowing in concern and shame.

“I know,” I said, feeling bad for making her feel bad.

“Kerri! What the hell are you doing?” a voice asked.

“Uh, nothing, babe,” she scurried up, facing the source of the voice.

“Good. For a second there I thought you were being nice to the zombie. You might get STD’s from his blood if you get too close,” he said.

“Oh! Never!” she scoffed, joining the kid. Tears immediately reformed in my eyes; I felt like I was going to be sick.

She turned back at me, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ before turning back around. The damage had been done, though. A real, genuine person would have stuck up for me in this situation. I couldn’t believe she just walked away like that. I couldn’t believe she just turned away from me in order to save her own reputation.

Actually, I could believe it. I was just worthless, scum. Even if somebody showed an interest in being nice, it didn’t last long.

I got up and ditched the school building, not caring about class anymore.

“Vic? Where are you going?” I sighed, hearing Mike’s voice. Of course.

“Of course you show up now!” I snapped. Good timing, Mike.

“Vic! I was just standing here already. What’s the matter with you?” he asked back, his tone gentle.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, my voice coated in sadness. I just couldn’t handle any of this anymore.

“Vic, what happened?”

“Everything,” I answered, not wanting to face him. “Please go away,” I mumbled. The last thing I needed was Mike in the way of what I wanted to do. Everything would be easier if he just didn’t care like everyone else.

“Not until you tell me what happened,” Mike said, his voice a little sharper than before.

“Like you actually care!” I yelled at him, turning around to face him. He jumped back in alarm.

“I do care,” he said softly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No you don’t, Mike. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself,” I said, shaking my head, caving in to the voices. A big wave of darkness crashed over me, suffocating me. I could barely breathe.

This was it; this was my breaking point. I knew this day was going to come eventually. It was only a matter of time before everything built up until I literally couldn’t handle it anymore.

“You’re acting ridiculous, Vic,” Mike said angrily. I didn’t listen to him. I blocked everything out; Mike suddenly wasn’t there anymore. Nobody was there. Nobody was ever there. I ran away, sprinting away from the school. I must have been loud in my outburst, because I heard other people snickering behind me.

“Finally, Fuentes gets the hint. Nobody wants you here!”

“I’m sorry you have to have such a wimpy brother, Mike. It must suck having to take care of him all of the time!”

I couldn’t tell what was real anymore—if I was actually hearing these things, or if they were all made up in my head. It didn’t matter though. They were all true.

‘I think it’s time for a break,’ she said, giving my hand a squeeze. Tears streamed down my face and my entire body was shaking as I recalled that day. That day.

‘I… I-I want to finish it,’ I blubbered.

‘It’s getting late, Vic. You can finish telling me tomorrow, okay?’ she suggested kindly, helping me stand up. I clutched onto her, afraid that if I let go she would fall away. I wasn’t confident that she actually truly cared about me. This was just her job.

‘I do care, Vic, come on,’ she said softly, wrapping her arms around me in a comforting hug. I almost melted at her touch.

‘You won’t care about me when you find out what I did,’ I mumbled.

‘That’s not true,’ she said gently, walking me back inside.

‘Really?’ I asked incredulously. ‘What if I told you... what if I told you that I was a murderer?’

Notes

Chapter 3.

Sorry It's kind of sad
Poor Vic :(

Just a little spoiler: something big happens next chapter! oooooOoo any predictions?

I stumbled upon something terrible on the internet today. I was looking something up and I saw this really nasty conversation thread. This asshole asked a question for "funny insults" about people who self harm and it was literally the most disturbing thread of answers i've ever seen. Like they were making jokes and puns about it and I got so angry. Sometimes i can't fathom how mean people can be. I just needed to vent about that for a second, and especially because I kind of depicted people in this story reflecting how ruthless kids can be towards people who are different and how it affects those kids. it's so sad how accurate this is, like, some people can actually be so mean like this, and it really baffles me.
Excuse my rant. I just felt the need to say something.