They Saved Me (boyxboyxboy)

Life As I know It

Noah- 15, light blond hair, blue-green eyes 5'8
Killan - 19, dark brown hair, grass green eyes 6'2
Kieran - 17, jet black hair, hazel eyes 5'11

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*Noah

My worn shoes ground against the pavement, the soles of my feet scraping as they dragged. My oversized hoodie was pulled down by the weight of my hands in the pockets. My jeans dragged against the ground, the various stains and tears visible as day, even in the dull, cloudy afternoon.

Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain was about to come down. I walked faster, hoping to preserve the clothes I would be sleeping in and going to school in the next day.

A faint rumbling noise sounded from behind me. As it got louder, I turned to my back just to be met with dirty, splashing water that had pooled in the mini craters on the asphalt.

About half a dozen teens sped by, "Wooo... Soak in that, motherfucker!" The guy in the drivers seat was of course the school jock, riding away with his trusty companions. The music loud and the base thumping in my ears as they drove away.

I guess that's a no on the staying dry wish. Oh well. It's not like there was anything I could do about it. After all, they were seniors and I was only in the ninth grade. I was nothing compared to their 6 foot something frames. My 5'8, while taller that most girls, would do me no good when getting beaten up against the locker or getting thrown into the janitors closet for hours. Sometimes, I would even stay there overnight with no food because people would forget that I was there.

That wasn't much of a change because I never have food anyways. I relied on cafeteria food to get me through my day. That's about the only thing that keeps me in school. Having to encounter those people every day is worth it if I can get a little food and sometimes snatch some clothes from the lost and found if no one has claimed them for long enough.

I arrived at the rundown looking apartment building. Two floors of mold, dust, and cement that looked like it could collapse if a large truck drove by it.

I entered the building and walked up the stairs to room 7. I stood and looked at the door for a few seconds. It's red paint, now a dirty brownish color, was peeled, leaving strips of rolled up paint all over. The door was now just a rusted metallic attachment. I
At times, it would refuse to open and I'd have to spend my afternoon dislodging it.

I put my hand out and pushed down the handle. It clicked and squeaked open. I guess I'll be sleeping inside today. There was no difference anyways though. I'd sleep on the floor either way. Inside the apartment, I had my respectively clean corner where I slept on the hardwood floor. There were few things in the one room appartement other than a small bathroom, mold and a dirty old shirt I used to clean my corner with. The other thing was the trash bag I kept my barely there clothes and magazines in. The magazines were of cars and tips on mechanics. It was my only hobby and it was my only distraction from my pitiful life.

I walked over to my corner and pulled my bag down. I took off my clothes and laid them out on the floor next to me. Stupid jocks.

I lay with nothing but my boxers on the floor, watching out for my back. The cold, hard floor has led me to develop back aches on my lower back. It's not like I could treat it so I was careful not to put too much pressure on it.

Once settled, I pulled one of my magazines that I read; Popular Mechanics Magazine. I'd stolen it from a stand when the owner wasn't looking once and kept it safe.

This was my life. It got boring but I couldn't complain. It could get worse. I didn't think anything could get worse back when my parents were abusing me. But I guess I thought wrong.

I remember the days when I would come home to a house that smelled of smoke and the putrid stench of alcohol. Both my parents had gotten into their addictions when I was only five. As a child, I didn't know what was going on but I had to learn fast. It wasn't long before they started physically abusing me at the age of  nine. The beatings got worse and more frequent as I got older. Sometimes, I would get hurt so bad that I would break my bones, unable to walk. They wouldn't feed me, sometimes for days and I'd have to scavenge the garbage scraps by the building or wait until school when lunch would be served. School was my safe haven back then. But one day, they just up and left. When i got back from school, they weren't there. All the old furniture that use to occupy the small space was gone. I waited. For a long time. They never showed and I just accepted it.

That was my last year of middle school. I was 14, innocent, and defenseless. The jocks started to take notice. Even the older ones. It seemed I became a convenient building block for their already massive egos. School wasn't safe anymore. Nowhere was. I'm always on guard. My parents could come back any day, although that is a very highly unlikely thing to happen.

I went back to my magazine. It talked about what went on under the hood of a car. I knew all the parts and terms. This was what I wanted to do with my future. I know I have a lot to learn and I'm hoping I can find someone willing.

With good thoughts on my mind for once, I slid down the wall and dozed off, my weak body tired from the battering I'd received earlier.

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I woke with a start, my breath coming hard. It was pitch dark in the room as always. There being no windows in the main room, a silver of light only came in through the opening in the bathroom wall.

My heaving chest tried to contain my beating heart as the horrific images came to my mind. I forcefully pushed them away and tried to calm my racing mind.

Despite the cold emptiness, I felt like I was burning up. I got up and walked to the bathroom. I leaned on the counter and stared at myself through the cracked mirror. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I saw the wet streaks running down my cheeks.

I furiously looked down. Crying wasn't going to solve anything. I shook my head at myself. As I turned my head, I noticed a glint in a corner. I reached out and picked up the small sharp metal.

I looked at it for a few seconds, tempted. Thoughts from my past flooded my mind and that's all it took for me to make the decision. I brought it over my wrist and cut a long gash across it. The blood spilled out almost immediately, dripping and bubbling into the sink.

If only I had the courage. It only took a bit of strength to push a deeper and I wouldn't have to deal with all my problems anymore. I always imagine it. I talk myself up to it but I never really get to it. Maybe it's just false hope but those magazines and the glint in those beautiful cars reflected back a glimmer of hope. Maybe it won't always be like this.

I could tell I was stalling. I was hoping something would come along so I wouldn't go through with this. It seemed so far away but it's there. The something that was keeping me alive, but torturing me for living, and I didn't even know what it was.