MY SILENT KILLER

CHAPTER 3: LIGHT, HOPE, DESTINY...?

It’s been three weeks since I first cut. My arms now look like my mother’s chopping board; scrapped and scarred. I might as well have taken her box grater and run my forearm along it. I’m shredded both inside and out.

I’ve started walking to school, it probably isn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever conjured up. But at least I can escape the clutches of self-centred people on the bus and my mother.  It’s the middle of winter, the cold morning air bites at my fingertips. There are only so many scarves and long-sleeved shirts a person can wear at once without becoming immobile. I place my icy hands into my fuchsia trench coat. The pockets are deep and offer temporary warmth to the freezing onslaught I’m encountering.

I can barely remember the past three weeks of school. I haven’t done any homework or studying in the time that has eclipsed. Exams are in a matter of weeks. Not that any good marks could help me; but at least my parents will get off my back for the holiday.

I walk into the front gate and am instantly greeted by the chatter and giggles of the populars. Mackenzie is one of them now. She looks odd in leggings and a beret, linked by the arm with Maya who’s wearing a similar outfit, but the leggings are a tad lighter to accompany her blonde hair. For a split second she glances in my direction, laughter painted on her face while I partially survey Maya’s boots, our eyes meet her face drops and she looks straight ahead, ready to plaster on that fake smile again.

I walk straight into the main building. A little angered with my latest encounter with Mackenzie. If I’m honest I’d say I miss her, our friendship, but that has been long broken and can’t be put together again. Even the most optimistic soul would give us no hope. I put my bag down next to my locker and pull out a timetable. Wednesday: first period Social studies. I quickly put in the lock combination and whip out my textbook and dump the unnecessary stuff into my scarcely populated locker.

Social studies is one of my more favoured subjects. I scurry into the classroom, not wanting to be late and head for my usual table, reserved at the back in the left corner, away from unwanted glares and stares from teacher and learners alike. I take out some paper and listen to the small group of people clustered around the desk two spaces ahead of me.

“He is here today, I saw him in the office”, whispered Jennifer May excitedly.

“I can’t wait to meet him, he seems real nice”, added Brittany Finnegan.   

“Well, we’ll soon find out, here they come”, stated Brett matter-of-factly.

I had no idea what they were all so excited about. I guess it had to be a new student or teacher, but Brittany and Jennifer get hyped up for anything and everything, it could just be a new box of chalk.

Mrs Stewart’s footsteps can be heard a mile off, so everyone runs to their seats ready to greet. She seems in a typically good mood, laughing to someone. It’s not a new box of chalk I think to myself. She strolls in, and holds the door open for someone.

“No really ma’am, I’m perfectly fine.”

A blonde haired boy enters the small classroom. I was just as surprised as the girl next to me, but I had the common decency to not let my jaw hit the ground.

“Good morning everyone,” Mrs Stewart sings, “I’d like to introduce you all to James, who has joined us from Kingsley High.”

We hurriedly greet back, still looking at a pink-faced James who I presume was thinking of a million better ways this introduction could have been done.

He was, admittedly, very good-looking, with blonde windswept hair and piercing blue eyes. His jeans were dark and baggy and he sported a black hoody. But I don’t think it was his blue eyes and boyish face that caught attention, he was in a wheelchair.