Deep, vicious purple rimmed Andy's eye as he limped and laboured into our first class of the day. He looked like hell. Maybe even worse. Obviously, he was too beat up to even attempt to do his makeup or hair. A deep cut marred the bridge of his nose, as if someone had tried to break it. The entire expanse of his body must be blotchy and beaten.
"Andy! " I valiantly called to him from our usual seats; it had been a week since Andy and I met. Not a word has left his lips - barely even a sound. This morning however, Andy didn't even acknowledge my existence. He looked... broken. As if he had finally given up on life.
A shell.
Hastily, my arm shot out to halt his progression. Holding fast in a last ditch effort. What I had not anticipated was the sheer, unadulterated terror upon his face as he ripped his arm from my grip. The momentum was enough to make him loose his footing and fall hard like a baby deer, just taking it's first steps.
With a whimper, Andy curled up into a tight terrified ball. An actual whimper.
Before any one else in the class could react I slid out of my desk and knelt next to my friend. Being careful to seem as unthreatening and harmless as possible I attempted comfort. Whispering nonsense like 'It's going to be OK,' and 'you'll be fine,'. I've never been good at that kind of shit.
Finally, Andy started to calm as I whispered to him. Rapid breath evening; racing eyes slowing. "Can you sit up? " I tentatively queried. A shallow nod and I was standing, offering a hand up. It was ignored in favour of pulling himself up. So much for the hope that he would initiate contact. "What happened to you, Andy?"
He just shook his head.
