Missing Your Chances (phan)

Chapter 12 {EDITED}

I was back in high school, pretending that the way the other kids would call me names and such wasn't bothering me. Who was I kidding? All I wanted was for them to leave me alone, but no, I still was their number one target-the only thing that I would ever be first in, as they often reminded me. I was hoping to find safety in the library, but to no avail. Cassie was there, gossiping with Claire and Anna. I knew that at heart Cassie really wasn't a bad person-no one really is-but she loved to try and prove me wrong.

"Hey look! It's Phil. Have you gotten over your crush on Dylan, or are you still obsessed with him?" Claire called, making sure that I could hear. I grabbed a random book, moving straight into the back of the library. I sat there, buried in the torn pages, but it wasn't good in the slightest. The name was fuzzy, I knew it was horrible. I sighed, eventually finding the courage to put the book back on its spot on the shelf and walk out the door. I ignored the names that were being called, silently hoping that the librarian would take notice. When I was almost out the door, I nearly fell back because Dylan had yanked back on my collar. I stumbled, but found a way to regain my footing before I made an even bigger fool of myself. I had never actually been beaten up by them, but words really could hurt, especially with my frail mind-set. This time, though, I could tell that it would be different. This time he would take it a step further, and I wasn't going to like it.

The scene changed and I was sitting on my bed, my brother was leaning on the door frame, a scowl written across his face. I knew that his girlfriend would be here any minute, and I would have to stay in my room while she met our parents. My mum and dad didn't really care if I met her-it made no difference to them-but my brother wanted to make sure I understood why I couldn't be down there. He didn't want his girlfriend to meet his 'little emo brother, who moans about the smallest little thing.'

"When Kayla comes, I want you to be up here, okay?"

"Why?" This was the one question that caused all of this. I wish I had never asked.

"Because I don't want you to scare her off with your emo-wanna-be getup. And I most certainly don't want to her to hear about how much of a loser my little brother is. Then she would definitely leave me, and I would choose her over you any day." His cold stare landed on me, and I silently nodded, not showing him how much it hurt. He hadn't cared about my black eye or anything like that, he just want to make sure I knew not to mess with his relationship.

Once Kayla was here, I hid in my room, looking at a blade that I had taken off of an old pencil sharpener. I held it up to my wrist, not having a goal to hurt myself, but to kill myself. I knew that I deserved it all-after all, who could love this fat, ugly, emo little boy? No one could possibly find anything special I me, and I don't really think that there is anything there worth noticing-there is nothing worth noticing. I was plain, and I deserved to die. Those were my last thoughts before I finally let the blade cut into my skin.

- - - - -

I woke up in a cold sweat, shivering. I remembered that night perfectly well, and occasionally it would pop up in my dreams, but it hadn't been this vivid in a while. It was probably caused my Martin and Kayla coming to visit, which I realized that it was probably the same Kayla from seven years ago. I guess he hadn't really changed, since that was my first time meeting her.

Finding that I was still on the floor in the middle of the flat, I got up and went into my room-not Dan's room. The bed was still made and everything in there because I had barely been in here since Dan's death. I shed down into my pyjamas and climbed into the cold bed, just sitting there to think about what I was going to do. What could I do? I had pretty much no one on my side, no one to lean on. No one to help, and no one to help me. I couldn't remember being so alone, but I guess I had to have been at one point. Maybe because I was comparing it to when I was at the top of the world. When I was invincible. Or possibly because I had already lost something and these were just problems piling on top of each other. Either way, I know that I was at rock bottom, and the only way to fix that is to get back up. Or, you could say that I had to put more time into the revolution, because that is pretty much the only thing I live for now.

In the morning, of course.