Different colored minds

Avoidance

PAMELA POV

I'm in math class again next to Joe. I don't want to talk to him. I can't believe he heard my parents and I fighting. I hate that he saw that. I hate that he knows I get treated that way. I hate it. I hate it because I know it's not right, and I can do nothing to change it. I'm trapped in a cage that's not of my own making. I'm isolated in an island made of white walls and cold ceilings and mouths shut, and eyes closed. I don't want him to think I put up with that. But I have no other way to survive.

"Hey Pamela," I close my eyes and open them slowly.
"Yeah," I turn to face him.
"I actually do need help with math. I'm sorry I shut you out the other day, you were right that wasn't fair."
"It's fine, I bet Maverick's good at math. I bet you can ask him," I feel a hand on my hand, I look down in shock. And then pull my hand away.
"I'm trying to do my math homework, maybe we can talk later," I try to give a reassuring smile. I know for a fact when that bell rings I'm racing out of the door before he can catch up. I don't want to talk about it. It's my pain, so let me carry it on my own.
"Okay," he says and returns back to his homework.
I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. The worst part was that he was kind, because if he wasn't maybe I wouldn't be so embarrassed. But I can't do that. I can tell my eyesight is fogging with tears, so I pull my hair down and use it as a curtain to isolate myself.
I just want to be alone. And that is one of those things I can't get at school and I sure as hell can't get at home.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity the bell rings. I get up, sling my backpack over my shoulder and briskly walk towards the exit.
"Pamela," I can feel that Joe is close behind me but I don't care. I'm not going to talk to him. I throw myself outside of the door and keep walking down the hall. I have to get away. Then I feel a hand on my wrist, it's gentle but strong, I can tell it's Joe. I pull away and keep walking and then I hear a clang, I turn around to see him splayed out on the ground crutches and all. His hand is clutching his stump. I stop and step next to him.
I put out a hand.
"Sorry, let me help you up," He looks up at the hand then gathers his crutches and tries to stand. I can tell he's in pain. He's leaning hard on his good leg.
"Here," I put my arm around his side and help him stand.
"Thanks," he says, casually. He looks down at his leg.
"Listen, I know you don't want help, my dad's the same way. I just wanted to tell you, you're not alone." I look at the boy in front of me, shaggy blonde hair falling over beautiful blue eyes as he continues to look at his leg.
"That was all. I know that kind of shit is embarrassing. I hate people knowing about my parents, I'd rather take it out on my hands. I saw your brother had them too," He gestures towards the scars twisting around his knuckles.
"It's like the one trap you feel like you can never get out of." He says. My heart stops and then restarts.
"It's why I wanted to give your brother the comics, they helped me a lot." He's so close to me, his cologne and woodlands deodorant mixing in the air.
"I think I'm fine now. You can let go, thanks for helping me up." He lets go of me, continuing to put more pressure on his dominant leg.
"Thanks," I feel a crack in my voice, but he can never know just how much those words touched my soul.

Fuck me.

I pushed him out because he wanted to help. Just like I was mad at him for not letting me in. It's a two way street. I need to be better if I want to end up different than my dad. If I can't get ahold of my anger I'm going to be just like him. And no one is ever going to get a word in edgewise. I'm alone.

Except...

But I don't count joe. Joe is temporary. Maybe we could just be friends? It's safer that way. It has to be better that way. It has to be better that way. I can't let him in? He'll leave. Just like everyone else. And I've felt someone leave before. I don't need that again. That's stupid.