Of All The Broken People

I Never Asked To Be Saved

IT WASN'T THAT I wasn't already acutely accustomed to clashes with Bert and his posse. Because believe me, I was. I was more resilient when it came to Bert's torture than anyone in all of Belleville High. But this time I hadn't been expecting an attack, and maybe that was the problem. I'd been thrown off guard, and that alarmed me. I couldn't be slipping, not now, not when things were so terribly bad.

In the midst of my panicked thoughts, I'd forgotten to pay attention to Bert, and was rudely awakened by the startling impact of a football cleat colliding with my face. The pain was dazzling - it set my vison ablaze with twirling sparks and sent my thoughts dashing into hiding. I was so dazed that I didn't see the second blow coming either. A second kick, to the side of the head this time, snapped me sideways and I let my head loll onto the burning asphault. I couldn't bear to hold it up. The pain was splitting - I wanted to throw

I blinked rapidly, vision still spotting. I needed to get off the ground. I was useless down here. Of course, my self defense was still pretty limited even if I did manage to stand up, but at least then I'd have a chance. A small one, but a chance.

A blow to the ribcage made me shudder, but I would not allow myself to gasp in pain. To see me writhing on the ground, opening my mouth like a pathetic fish-out-of-water was exactly what they wanted. I would not deliver that to them.

I took whatever they could give to me, allowing my body to be battered around like a deflated soccer ball. I was barely even aware of where all the pain was stemming from at this point. It had all just melded into one throbbing, sparking mass that occupied my entire being. Every nerve ending had betrayed me. Each intercepting brain cell was one of their accomplices. My body was failing me. I knew I wouldn't be consious much longer if they kept this up.

I hardly noticed when the kicking and hitting stopped. My body couldn't tell the difference, it burned and ached whether they continued torturing me or not. I felt like one colossal bruise. I did hear the new voice though, one I felt sure I'd never heard before, and mind you, I was rarely wrong. I drew my shaking arms away from my face and blinked my eyes open with great effort. Blood had run down my forehead and gotten caught in my eyelashes, sticking them somewhat together.

I rubbed at my right eye, the one that was stuck the most, and immediately regretted it. Warm, pulsing pain shot all across my face, and for a moment I felt sure I was going to be sick. Luckily I didn't vomit, cause if I had it would have splashed all across the black sneakers belonging to the stranger crouched in front of me, and that would have been a bad first impression. (As if being beaten to a squishy gothic pulp in front of them wasn't embarassing enough.)

"Are you alright?" the stranger asked. Their voice was thin but low - noticeably male. I was unable to get a good look at their face but I tried not to automatically assume it matched the person's voice. I tried not to assume things like that.

"I'm ... fine." My voice was shockingly ragged. I didn't sound fine at all, and I guaranteed I didn't look it either.

"Do you need anything? A ride home, maybe? Escort to class? How about-"

"Some help standing will be enough, thanks," I croaked, propping myself up as best I could, which wasn't much. I felt so unbelievably weak and useless in that moment that it made me wish I were dead. My own body had frozen up on me, betrayed my trust and allowed me to be pulverized. I was more torn over McCracken and his posse than I had ever been before. I wanted something to be done in my defense so badly. Just this once, I wanted Bert to suffer terribly for what he had done.

"Dude?"

I snapped back to alertness, grabbing the strangers outstretched hand and pulling myself to my feet. My legs shook something fierce and my heart was jackhammering away at my ribcage, but I stayed upright.

"Uh, I'm Frank, by the way," the stranger chirped. "I'm new to Belleville."

"So I've noticed," I muttered glumly. I was busy scanning the ground for my mp3 player. It was my most prized possession - one of the only nice things I owned. Hell, I took care of it better than I took care of my own self.

"Uh, what's ... What's your name?"

"None of your business," I huffed, hardly glancing up from my desperate search.

"Oh." His gaze fell to the pavement and his eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, look!" He exclaimed, bending down and scooping up a tiny black square. Sunlight glinted off the glass screen and my heart skipped a beat. "My mp3!" I practically lunged at Frank, snatching the precious square from his hands. Oddly enough he didn't seem phased by my rude behaviours, but I didn't care about that at the moment. I was more focused on my music player. Or, what was left of it.

Half the screen had been crushed, and the other half was flat out missing. The tiny circular control pad was crushed so badly it was uplifted out of its tight little socket. Someone had to have stepped on it, and hard. This was purposeful.

I was mortified. I was furious. I was ... sad. Tremendously sad. So sad that, wordlessly, I stormed away from Frank, not even bothering to collect my earbuds from the pavement. What good were they now, anyways?

"Hey!" Frank hollered after me "Hey, wait!"

"Leave me the hell alone!" I snapped. I needed to be alone so I could mourn the loss of my baby. My music player, my only comfort ...

"But ..." I heard Frank stop in his hot pursuit of me. "But I just saved you," he shouted. He sounded astounded, perhaps by the fact that I was so ungrateful of his heroic step-in that had saved me from getting creamed. It wasn't that I was ungrateful; really, it wasn't. I just couldn't bear to speak. I was hurting all over, my thoughts were a mess, and my mp3 was not able to comfort me with its extensive collection of soothing music. Human company was not the same, and could not console me.

I stopped, still facing away from Frank.

"Well, I didn't ask to be saved." I didn't wait for his dumbfounded response.

As best as my battered body could, I ran.