[calum]
"Calum, Luke, take a seat." Mrs. Longbottom stared at us through her tiny, thick-rimmed glasses. I sighed, following the tall blonde boy to the back of the classroom. I plopped down on the seat next to Luke's, resting my chin on the back of my hand and staring at the clock, 3 pm.
"Detention begins now. I shall hear no talking whatsoever or-"
she was interrupted by the opening of the classroom door and the panting of a girl with blue hair. "Arabella." Mrs. Longbottom glared at her.
"Sorry," she mumbled as she slid into the seat in front of me, putting down her bag and smoothing down her bright blue hair.
Two hours later, Mrs. Longbottom breathed out in relief and opened the door, leaving before any of us. "Well that was horrible." Luke grumbled, cracking his neck and making me wince at the sound. We walked out the front door of the school and I breathed out a huge breath, glancing up at the darkening sky. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lucifer." I called as the lanky noodle walked away from me.
"Fuck off." I chuckled as I started in the direction of my house. When I opened the door and dropped my bag on the floor, my father started yelling.
"You fucking worthless piece of shit, where have you been?" the sight of him was disgusting. He was disheveled and unshaved, stinking from the lack of a shower, one hand holding an empty beer bottle and the other holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "Dad," I started, walking slowly towards my overtly drunk father, attempting to take the alcohol away from him. "Get away from me, you killed my wife."
I flinched, "Dad, stop it, you're drunk. Give me the bottles." I murmured, eyeing the other empty beer bottles lying haphazardly on the living room floor. "No! Away from me! Don't fucking touch me, it's your fault she's dead!" he screamed, spit flying from his mouth as he slammed the beer bottle on my face, creating a huge cut that soon welled up with blood.
I fell, trying to get to the door, trying to get out of there. He kicked my stomach, held me down on the floor and screamed vulgarities at me, blaming me for the death of my mother. With each word he threw a punch and a kick until I was whimpering in the corner as he knelt there on the floor, panting.
I scrambled to the door, and stumbled out, tripping outside on the pavement, coughing up blood, when I saw a familiar shade of blue in my peripheral view.
"Calum!"
"Jesus Christ, Calum, what happened to you?" it was Arabella. She knelt down beside me on the pavement and started tapping frantically on her phone. I drew up a bloody finger shakily and pointed at the first floor window of my house, my father standing inside, watching.
"This is the first time we've talked." I murmured, choking on my blood.
"Shut up and hold on, Calum, an ambulance is coming. Just hold on. Hold on."
"Calum!" was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.
***
The next time I opened my eyes the sun was glaring brightly down at me, and I was lying in a hospital bed. "Calum," Arabella breathed out.
"Hey." I croaked.
"Here," she handed me a plastic cup of water and I nodded my thanks as she watched me slowly swallow the contents. "It's not the first time is it?" Arabella asked tentatively. I gave her a weird look and her blue eyes flashed with remorse. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"
"It's okay." I gave her a small smile, "You're right. It's not."
"I saw the scars." She said, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry." She rolled up her sleeves and showed me neat lines on her wrist. "I'm sorry too." I said immediately. "my dad cheated on my mom when I was 12. A week later, my entire school knew about it. They would push me up against the lockers and tell me how worthless I was for having a father that didn't love me. Telling me how no one will ever love me because my father never loved me or my mother, that he found someone better." I listened silently, glancing down at the scars.
Arabella grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze as I smiled down at our intertwined hands, one full of bruises and cuts from my father, and one full of scars from herself. "We're so messed up," I mumbled.
"messed up is for people like Dylan or Jordan," she answered softly, referring to the druggies of our school, "Calum Thomas Hood, we're not messed up, we're broken. Completely, irrefutably broken."
And as my brown eyes met her blue ones, I realized Arabella was right, but at that moment, I wouldn't ask for anything more.
---
i felt like this was bad but im still proud of it?
lmao idk
enjoy ^
-amanda
