blood (scomiche)

Chapter Eight

M.G.

Scott was sweet. It was that simple. The poor kid had been living on his couch for over two weeks now, letting me live in his room. The days he didn't have school, he'd always asked me if there was anything I wanted to do, and when he got home from school, he would always make some food for us to share while he did his homework.

He put his trust in me sometimes, which made sense since I didn't really have anyone to tell, and I wished that I could open up the same way and tell him what had happened to me, to tell him all about my story.

"Bon appétit," Scott says with a smile, placing a plate of crackers and cheese in front of me, sitting down next to me while he unzipped his backpack. I smiled. After he pulled his things out of his backpack, he set it to the side before looking at me. "Can we talk for a moment?" I nodded slowly. He took a deep breathe. "You know that your situation is, like, a big deal, right?" He asks. I shrugged. "What happened to you was really wrong, and when something like that happens, people want to know." He sighed. "So, I guess what I'm saying is that people know who you are, and that your story is on the news and all," he said sadly.

"My story?" I question. "You mean, everyone knows what happened to me?" I ask. He shakes his head quickly.

"They don't know the details, just that you were held hostage and that you were released. They don't know where you're staying, that you're related to him. All they know is that you exist," he explains. "No pictures included, nothing, just the story. It's a sick world out there, Mitchy, and people want to know about this stuff. Plus, now you are a real person. You exist. You aren't a secret anymore, isn't that good?" I shrug.

"I didn't know I was a secret in the first place," I tell him.

"I wasn't allowed to say anything to anyone until the story was released. But, now you can go out in public, and meet new people, and get a job if you wanted. Hell, you could go to school if you felt like it," he says. "This is kind of a good thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I feel like the entire world is going to treat me like I'm a piece of glass that is already broken off of something, and that one small hit will make me shatter," I say. He shakes his head.

"No," he says. "If anything, people will know how strong you are. And no one will know that you are that boy on the news unless you tell them. Only I will," he says. "To everyone else, you're Mitch Grassi, that one average teenage boy with a normal life that they don't really know anything about." I smiled. "You aren't upset, are you?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "But I'm glad that I know, thank you." He nods once with a smile. Scott opened his arms.

"Hug it out?" He asks. I chuckle and lean into his chest, wrapping my arms around his back. After a moment, we pulled back and Scott smiled to me. "And if anything happens to you, I'll be right by your side to back you up, alright?" He says. I shyly smiled at him. "How's your stomach?" He asks.

"Scarred," I say with a chuckle. "Its a lot better, though. The pain went down so much. It's just a lousy cut now, doesn't really hurt at all," he smiles.

"And you don't even need the wrap anymore?" He asks. I nod. "Good, good." He says. After a moment, he spoke again. "You wanna hit the town?" He asks goofily. I smile. "I'm feeling an intense mall shopping spree. Let me contact my fashion consultant and we'll be good to go," he says, jokingly, getting his phone. "Now, I may be upset with her, but she is never against a shopping spree."

Scott sent me into his room to go change into a decent outfit that his mom had bought while he called his friend. I had mixed feelings about what Scott had told me, but it felt nice to be known as an actual person now. I wasn't hidden from the world anymore. People know who I am now, which is the complete opposite than it was a month ago.