Unlikely

Chapter Seven

*Felix's POV*

I was running. Hell, what was I running from?
I heard the taunting voice from above me, panting "so tight" satisfyingly. I recollected myself enough to try to push him off of me.
Maybe I exaggerated a bit. I wish I was running. I wish I could run, but I was paralyzed with terror. I was hurt beyond words. My core was crying for him to stop, so why wouldn't he?
"Please, please, please...stop! I can't do this anymore!" I begged and pleaded on my hands and knees (obviously not by choice. I was just thrust down here and forced to shed my clothing) for him to stop going in that goddamed pattern I was growing oh so used to.
"Oh, no, my sweet Felix." He said. I started to sob. "I'm never going to stop~"
In between my cries of pain and his animalistic grunts, I woke up.
I was shaking, and had tears running down my face in sheer horror from my dream. I looked over at Marzia. Sweet, dear Marzia. How she amazed us with her strength last night. She fell asleep almost automatically. She was...cute, with her eyes that could make cotton candy and cut through diamond.
She opened one eye. "Felix?" She opened them both at my state. "Are you okay?"
"I'm not, but I will be."
"Hello!" Sean chirped. I quickly wiped my eyes before he entered the room. "By the way, you, Marzia, and Ethan have group. Just the three of you."
Thanking the god that doesn't exist, I got up with the other two, and the three of us made our way out.
When we got in, Sean and Mark were sitting in two chairs. "Now tell me," Mark said, "why you guys are here."
"Well," I started defiantly, "all the cool kids are suicidal. All the cool kids romanticize depression issues, and all the cool kids set beauty standards. All the cool kids think our conditions are a fucking joke. That's why we're here."
Marzia and Ethan nodded. Meanwhile, Sean and Mark looked at us with wide eyes, as if they couldn't believe that I had just laid the truth down in front of their very eyes.
"But...who's the cool kids?" Mark asked. I smirked.
"You tell me, Muscle. Who has said someone didn't matter because of a certain mindset?"
Taken aback by my question, he stuttered out: "M-my friend...he killed himself about 3 years ago. Nobody took him seriously...then he shot himself...t-that's why I have this job, I just wanted to help people to n-not..." Mark couldn't even finish his sentence. He cleared his throat, probably to try to remind us who was in authority. "Anyways, Felix, that was uncalled for. What do the others have to-"
"They have chemical imbalances, don't they? They're here for the same damn reasons I am. Nobody cared enough to save them from their hell."
"Felix, you've gotten sweets taken away..."
"See, this is the shit I'm talking about! You guys aren't even listening to me!" Anger makes people emotional, and I'm no different. "Do you know what I've had to go through to figure this out? I had to go through being raped for years and cut for many more to know that nobody understands and nobody fucking cares! Ethan, what did you go through to figure it out?"
"I had anorexia for three years. Three long, grueling years everybody turned the other check when I thought I had someone who cared about me. It was the nurse who called 911, and no one had visited me since."
Before either of the adults could say a word, I shouted, "Marzia!"
She flinched before replying, "my mom beat me for years, putting out cigarettes on my arms, and I never saw her without the new drug on the market. Weed, cocaine, Meth, crack. You name it, chances are she's done it. She would remind me of how worthless I am on the daily, and belittle me every chance she got. In fact, she's the reason I overdosed."
"NOW WILL YOU GUYS LISTEN?!" I screamed. The men looked at me with the same wide, scared-filled eyes.
"Yes," Mark said at last, "we'll listen."

That got really intense. Damn. Anyways, please drop a comment and vote. Stay safe!
1-800-273-8255 American suicide hotline