Silence

Prologue

AN: sorry this prologue is kind of short, this is an original story I've been toying around with for awhile so hopefully people like it. At the best I'll update a chapter a week, possibly every two weeks considering my work schedule. I don't normally post authors notes, just wanted to give you guys a head up. Enjoy!

My footsteps echoed down the hall, followed closely by another five pairs that I knew all too well. Just the mental image of them chasing me struck fear so deep inside my heart that I ran seemingly impossibly faster, much to the protest of my screaming lungs. I'd never been much of an athlete; or one at all actually; instead I preferred to keep to myself in the comfort of an empty classroom, which I'd been peacefully doing until Eric Morgan had spotted me through the windows on his way back from soccer practice.

The school was dimly lit as it was steadily approaching five o'clock but the shadows offered me no escape. Soon enough a hand snagged the back of my hoodie and threw me to the floor, sending my notebook sliding across the linoleum. My eyes followed it for a second until my attention was brought back to the five sweaty, grinning, and cackling men looming over me.

Men may seem a strong word to describe who were really just high school seniors, but these teens had fought puberty and won while I was still praying for my long-awaited growth spurt. Eric; the ringleader of this ongoing circus of pain; had the face of the devil with a soul to match. Sharp, chiseled features with piercing eyes so dark they were almost as black as his hair, he was sin incarnate under the guise of an angel.

His friends were nothing special, or maybe I'd just never cared to notice them. It wasn't that their punches hurt any less when they came in turn, but more so that I kept my eyes closed. With Eric I'd never found myself able to tear my gaze away, even when the sight betrayed him as the merciless man he was.

The malicious grin that haunted my dreams spread across his face as he picked my notebook up from where it had stopped. He opened it, face instantly contorting to a grimace. "The faggot's been drawing again." He spat as he threw it at one of his lackeys, who instantly began tearing apart my sketches of various different dress designs. It wasn't the first time they'd done it and it wouldn't be the last so long as I was stuck in this town.

"Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" Another one of them laughed humorlessly. They all kept their distance while Eric took slow strides towards me, like a predator going in for the kill of a wounded animal. He picked up one of the larger pieces of paper to study it for a moment before smirking. "Maybe if your little friend Katie wore something like this more often, she'd be a little more appealing don't you think? Even with that god awful short hair of hers." He knew exactly how to push my buttons.

"His name's Kyle!" I snapped angrily even though I knew I was only egging him on. He always did this: taunted me until I said something, then attacked, so at least if he got caught our principal could sleep at night after passing it off as me being the instigator.

"I'd bet she'd be hot if she tried." He continued, ignoring me. "Put on a little makeup, grow her hair out, wear a tight little dress...I'm sure she's hiding something nice under those baggy clothes." His friends snickered quietly while my face was surely turning red. "Maybe I'd even let her get me off." He hummed as if he didn't have a care in the world but the thought of my friend naked, when he knew all too well that he'd said enough to get me going.

I shot to my feet but he had me pinned in seconds. "Oh are you jealous? I bet you'd rather be my little bitch instead, wouldn't you faggot?" He growled viciously, one hand tight around my throat. "I bet this is just turning you on, you disgusting freak." He spat before delivering a punch to my face that had me screaming in pain. I hadn't fully recovered from the last time yet, so my lip split open once again while my almost-healed bruises darkened in colour.

No matter how many times it happened, the feeling of being unable to breathe still made me panic. The worst part was he knew it and was using it against me. Last year I'd almost drowned during gym because a girl pushed me into the pool as a joke, not knowing I couldn't swim. It sent me into a panic; still did every time I couldn't breathe; and I hated that he could so easily manipulate my fears. Luckily we only had half-lockers so he couldn't abuse my claustrophobia as well.

The beating ended with them each taking a turn to spit on me as I lay crying on the floor, leaving as if nothing had happened to presumably eat a nice dinner with their families who thought the world of their sons. As always I waited for the pain to subside ever so slightly before limping home, knowing all traces would be washed clean by the janitors tonight.

Unfortunately home wasn't a place I wanted to be either, and although I was never dealt physical pain by my parents, the emotional pain was much worse than any beating I could ever receive. Like every day I came home late, and like every day my mother would be in the kitchen cooking. My father looked up at me with only disappointment when he saw my bloody and bruised face. He'd always give a variation of the same phrase that he figured was a piece of advice. Today it was: "maybe if you stopped acting like such a girl they wouldn't have a reason to pick on you."

Because it was my fault. It was always my fault, and they were only "teaching me a lesson I better learn now." And, like so many nights before, I grabbed a plate of food from my mother who pretended everything was okay before heading up to my room to eat alone. Again.

My life wasn't all awful though, there were some good points. One of those good points was currently halfway through my open bedroom window, cursing as he hit his breast against the windowsill. "I can't wait for these infernal things to be gone." He spat angrily, finally wiggling through with a thud as he hit the ground.

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped me even though it turned his glare away from the window and towards me instead. "Oh shut it, you're lucky you don't have to deal with this shit." He grumbled, which shut me up. Kyle had been my best friend since middle school but sometimes I wasn't sure how to respond to the things he said.

However, that time span brought familiarity as well, so when I didn't ask why he was here instead of at home, he didn't ask what happened to my face. We already knew the answers to both questions. He climbed onto my bed beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we shared my dinner.

Being the only two openly gay people in town you'd think circumstance would have forced us together as more than friends, and maybe in a place that didn't hate us so much it would've at one point, but as we were right now we needed all the support we could get.

We didn't speak much tonight, both too tired from the day to pretend to be happy, and turned in early for bed. My parents never checked on me so they never knew. Some may say that was a sign of trust, but it only showed me how little they cared.

Just as my eyes closed, his soft voice reached my ears. "We'll get away one day, you'll see Noah. The year's almost over, and then we can leave. Together." His voice faded but the hope he instilled in me lingered as I drifted off to sleep, dreading the next day but awaiting the future.