Silent Secrets

Pain

The last thing I saw was the fire covering my house. The last thing I heard was the sirens of police cars and fire trucks. I ran. I ran wherever my legs ran to. I didn't look back. It was dark. The moon shone bright, but the flames were brighter.

Two years later...

"Kyle, get ready!" I woke up to the sound of my..."stepdad",er "guardian", calling me to get ready for school. 8th grade was starting today. We didn't have a dress code or anything, so I just put on a green hoodie and sweatpants. I redid my bandages and "fixed" my hair. All I do is run my fingers through it a bit.

I walked to school since it wasn't very far from where I live. There was a flood of students walking inside. There were banners hanging around saying, "WELCOME BACK!" Or "FIRST DAY BACK!" Some stupid shit like that.

I looked around for my class and was pushed around from kids rushing to their friends. "Excuse me?" Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. I turned around to see a girl who looked anxious. "Yes?" I answered. "Do you-" She was interrupted by someone running into her. "Fucking bitch." She mumbled under her breath. I laughed a bit. "Anyway, do you know where Mr. Jackson's Class is?" She asked getting her balance back. "No, I'm actually looking for it." I said standing on the tips of my toes to get a better view. We both started making our way forward, looking at all of the names on the doors that we passed. 

"Ugh, finally." I sighed as I spotted the classroom. We walked in and there were already a couple of students in there. Most of them were talking to their friends, or on their phones. I sat down in the very back, put my hood on, and started drawing.

The class stated to get more and more full. About 35 minutes pass, and Mr. Jackson walks in. "Hello class. Today, we will just be doing introductions." He announced. Some people groaned, including me. I didn't really like telling information about myself. It brings back to many memories.

"Let's start." He called names on the roll. And luck me, my last name started with 'A'. I was the third person to be called.

My heart started to race, as all eyes were on me. My palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy, vomit on his sweater already, mom's Spaghetti. (Sorry, I had to). My breathing increased. "So, Mr. Andrew, when were you born?" Mr. Jackson asked.

"J-June 9th." I stuttered a bit. "Tell is a bit about yourself." He added. I hesitated. What is there to tell? That my house burned down, taking my mom with it? That I ran away? "What happened to your hand?" I looked up and saw the girl pointing to it. I covered it up with my sleeve and looked down at my feet.

"I uh." I swallowed hard. Think of something, dammit! "Shit." I mumbled.  Luckily Mr. Jackson didn't hear me. "I uh, cut it..." I lied. "How?" Another kid asked. Ah shit. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Suicide. Shit! I mean-". I regretted saying that because now there would be more questions. Fuck my life. I covered my face. "Kyle, are you suicidal?" Mr. Jackson asked. "No, I mean yes, but that's not..I didn't cut it because I'm- I just- it was an excuse." Some of the kids started whispering, some of them laughed a bit at the teacher's expression. "Restart." Mr. Jackson said. "Well, I don't really like to talk about that...it happened a long time ago, well not too long, but still." I looked back down at my feet and started replaying the night my house caught fire. My right hand had some scars on it, but not as bad as my left. I sighed.

"Is there something else interesting you would want to tell us?" He asked. I shrugged. "My mo-" I stopped myself. "Never mind. There's nothing interesting." I shook my head walked back to my seat. A lot of kids were staring at me. I put my hood on and covered my face. What a fucking way to start this shitty year.