HeRo (Sⓗort Stⓞrⓘⓔs)

The Bad Side

The Bad Side

- from a novel I may or may not publish -

"Identity cannot be fabricated."

                             — Doug Cooper

•  •  •

   It was clear I was not welcomed anywhere. With beat up, generic brand of sneakers, a ratty hoodie, and old jeans, it was no wonder.

Not more than a couple hours ago I had arrived at Gerring Academy. It was an elite Catholic school, and it was obvious I didn't belong here. I was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I don't remember much of what it was like, since I was really little. My mother had taken care of me until custody was transferred to my grandmother. From there, I somehow landed myself in the streets.

That was when he came into my life.

Isaac was what he went by. No one knew his real name. He took me in, gave me shelter, and in turn I helped him with business. My life from then on became a drug and sex game. I had to sell myself for less than thirty bucks apiece. And then Isaac started snorting crank.

I called it the monster.

Isaac went crazy on it. He started needing more money. Suddenly, my extra cash wasn't enough. He started selling me to random strangers at a dirty motel. I tried not to let it get to me. And then...he tried to rape me.

I had trusted him.

He was all I had.

So I left.

I gathered extra cash, favors, and clothing and escaped Isaac. He would surely be looking for me. So I entered high school under a different image and persona. Drugs, sex, and the streets was all I had ever known. Now I was in Gerring — no friends, no family, a new start. As I wandered the cafeteria, I ignored all the full tables and aimed for a lowkey round table in a corner. I would be alone and the sounds would be drowned out by my music.

My beat up sneaks headed towards the table, my lunch tray feeling extremely heavy in my hands. I avoided all eyes and sat down, glad to be somewhere safe.

Or, at least safer.

"Hey Elliot. What are you doing sitting alone?"

My gaze rose to meet the friendly smile of Gabrial Bishop. He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and placed his tray next to mine.

I cocked a brow.

"Don't you have friends?" I questioned.

Gabe shrugged, opening up his plastic container filled with some sort of macaroni salad. I wrinkled my nose at the aroma of eggs and mayo.

"What?" Gabe asked. "You don't like egg salad?"

I shook my head, covering my nose with my hoodie sleeve. "Eggs make me nauseous. They're horrible."

Gabe laughed. "They're not that bad."

I rolled my eyes and slowly began to breathe out of my mouth to avoid the scent. It was worse than the stench of sex and alcohol. With a snort, I continued to eat in silence, Gabe surprisingly able to keep his mouth shut. I assumed he was one of those chatter boxes who had no filter.

"...so what made you wanna go to Gerring?"

My eyes snapped up, nearly dropping my soda. I glanced down and sighed in relief. None was on my lap.