Trying To Heal

Chapter Ten

SONG: Eminem - Without Me

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Derek Matthews

My Maths teacher, Mr Evans, is a cover for today's Psychology lesson. In his sixties, a large belly, and a receding hairline.

He closes my classic, reading the title. The Picture of Dorian Grey, Oscar Wilde. "Good lad."

Tanner has been moved to my left, his laptop opened onto a Words document. "His fourth time reading it."

Mr Evans observes Theo doing Maths revision, to which he begun the second Mr Evans started to sternly inspect the class. Theo has a free period, and he asked to be here. Mr Evans is a chill teacher — and kindly let him as long as Theo won't "muck about".

"Have you read The Odyssey?" asks Mr Evans.

Tanner replies, "That book is awesome."

Mr Evans beams, delighted. He spends ten minutes chatting to us about his favourite authors and writers, to which Tanner and I encountered. He leaves to the front desk, crossing his arms, extremely bored as the classroom chatter increases.

Theo is to my right, and that seat is hers.

I miss her.

I miss how we used to play Call of Duty: Mobile each late night, how she would wait for me in the foyer. 

I miss how I helped her with Maths, how she would help me by offering an endearing giggle. 

I miss watching her doodle, how she watched me attempting to sketch and purses her lips to suppress a snort. 

I miss how her eyes brighten whenever the dogs are around, how the dogs are ten times happier and love her more than anyone, including me. 

I miss how we used to sit in the back of classrooms and judge these cunts.

I miss her so fucking much.

We all do.

These weeks are so traitorously and agonizingly unbearable—so damn slow. It feels like I am hurling and hurling in a whirlwind of torment. I wake up each day, for the day to be a desolated repetition. The gym, that vigor, is keeping me strong. In fact, whenever I feel depressed simply thinking about her, or throwing up at a brutal assumption, I would practice those finger-tip handstands, close to success.

My pets are keeping me strong. Duke is usually the child who doesn't give a fuck about anything. He keeps to himself, grouching and grunting and grumpy — sort of like me. He must know what is occurring, because even he is snuggling into me more often.

The orphans are keeping me strong —

The orphans.

The sex ring.

Children are abandoned, end up in orphanages—they get abducted.

What if —

No. Don't think like that.

If anyone lays a hand on those children ...

Last night, Luke decided that Tanner and I were old enough to organise our own personal workforces. Meaning, we established our Security. So far, Fitzroy Hamilton, Larry Cox and Tineri Hamilton — (Hamilton's wife) — work for me. Hamilton is the leader. Sanem Ersoy and a few others I recognise work for Tanner. Ersoy is the leader of his Security.

The members are still recruited. I have to inspect their CVs, their footprints, etc before a conclusion is made. So far, I have a thousand members in my force.