To The Stage (An Of Mice & Men Story)

Chapter One

Lena's POV

My name is Lena Faraday and I've been a loner all throughout high school. I was the quiet, emo kid who listened to the weird music. They called me fat, as well as useless and a freak. Hence the reason I liked to keep to myself. I felt that my best friend was only myself. However, it was almost as bad at home.

I was an only child so I was on my own. My mother had died in a car accident two years ago. My mother was my whole world. She was the kindest, sweetest person and the only reason she stayed was because my father was simply a threat all on his own. He had never really liked me and after my mother's death, the abuse had started. It was mainly brought on by his drinking habits. He would come home late somedays and if I was lucky, he would pass out and I wouldn't have to deal with him. But on those unlucky days, such as today, he would beat me until I was curled up on the ground, then he would stumble away mumbling in a drunken stupor.

And that is where we lay our scene. I was indeed curled up on the floor of my bedroom, crying as quietly as I could. I had taken a few kicks to the stomach and a punch in the jaw. Really, it wasn't anything too bad. He tried not to hurt me so much that I would have to go to the hospital. He knew what he was doing was wrong and he was smart about it. But it still hurt.

I had no one, I had nothing. At school and at home. Well, I did have two friends. Music and a small metal blade. Two completely different things but somedays, one was more comforting than the other. And the proof was on my skin. But tonight I was gonna try to be strong. I crawled over to my bag, pulled out my iPod and climbed in bed. I put my earbuds in and fell asleep to Slipknot.

I woke up at about five in the morning to get ready for school. If I wake up early enough, I can get out of the door before he wakes up. I was out the door by 6:30, dressed and ready for school. I had covered up the bruise that had begun to form on my right cheek.

It was my final year of high school. I had been looking forward to my senior year. That meant I would be turning eighteen and graduating, the former I had already done and the latter I was on my way to completing. As soon as high school was over, I could leave this hell hole. Thank god the year was almost over. Just a few more months to go.

I arrived at seven, an hour and a half before school would start. I walked in the building with some Slipknot blaring through my headphones. I went through my daily routine that I had used ever since my first day of freshman year. I went to my locker, exchanging the things I had taken home last night with the things I would need for the day. I dropped all my things off in homeroom, which I would be going back to when the late bell rang. Then I decided to walk around the halls of the school.

As more and more people began to show up, there were more people to stare at me in the halls. At this point, I was used to it all. I had learned to ignore the stares.

I found myself sitting beneath one of the two main staircases in a corner of sorts of the building. Nobody ever really ventured this far back into the school so I didn't have to worry about anyone coming up to bother me. My playlist had now shifted to Suicide Silence. I left one earbud out so I could hear the warning bell that came before the late bell. There was still an hour left until that bell. I pulled my hood over my head and pulling my knees up to my chest, I rested my head on my knees.

It seemed like an eternity later, but what had been in actuality minutes, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was slow to lift my head because it could only be someone coming over here to bitch about how much of a fuck up I was and how ugly I was. But to my utter surprise, it couldn't have been farther from it.

A boy sat beside me and he had a nice look on his face. I had grown so accustomed to the dirty looks everyone carried on their faces all the time around me, I assumed that that was just how people naturally looked. But he wasn't glaring at me or anything of the sort. He was smiling. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen a smile directed at me.