A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Two

"Depression is a flaw in chemistry, not character."

            "Are you going to run away now? This is usually the moment when people do."

            The day seemed to go cold. I had no idea what to say to him, all that I knew was there way no way I'd run away. There was one thought nagging me at the back of my mind. He trusted too easily. We'd known each other a total of two and a half hours. Not enough time for him to tell me about his past.

            Two months would be too soon, never mind two hours. My hand reached out for his, desperate to let him know he wasn't alone. Zoe's words meant nothing now. A broken person managed to find another broken person. For one moment, I began to believe in fate. Even if it lasted no more than a minute.

            "Who else have you told?" I asked, hand finally meeting his.

            Shrugging, Brock looked out to the traffic-filled road. His eyes were shimmering, full of unshed tears. It felt like part of me died in that moment. Watching someone I just met falling apart right in front of me.

            Sniffles filled the quiet air, my heart breaking even more. For some time, I'd started believing I was living with anxiety. And finding another person who was suffering in silence made me feel less alone. It was terrible, and I knew it was. But part of me was almost thankful for finding someone else that I could share my feelings with. Though it would take a while before I told him anything.

            We were different that way. Whereas he revealed a major secret to me after just meeting, it would take me a long time to even tell him the smallest of secrets.

            "You're the first one I told here. There were others in previous schools, but they all ran away after I showed them the scars. Only then, they weren't scars."

            Self-harm was always a thought lingering in the back of my head. It was never something I would actually do. The pain would only be worse for me. That's the way I saw it. Maybe Brock felt there was no other option. Dying seemed like a better alternative than living.

            I wanted to throw my arms around him, to let him know he wasn't alone. I didn't. Instead, we sat there, side by side on the bench, for the rest of our spare period. The bell rang, and we stood up at the same time.

            He looked down at me, no longer hiding behind the happy mask. It made the realization that this was real all the more horrible.

            The images of pink lines etched into fair skin burned in the back of my mind. I couldn't imagine how much pain a person had to be in to do such an act. To feel so empty on the inside, they felt that was the only solution. Sympathy for Brock grew by the second.

            By some miracle, we ended up being in the same biology class. There were two empty desks at the back of the room, and that was where we headed. Wringing my hands, I avoided Brock's gaze. He had pulled his sleeves back down, concealing any evidence of the silent struggle he was facing.

            Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring. Hushed conversations filled the room, everyone talking as much as they could before class began. With a loud grunt, our teacher walked into the room. He slammed a textbook down on his desk before turning to the class.

            "Open your books to chapter twelve. If you don't have one, share with the person beside you."

            Of course, Brock didn't bring the textbook with him. Turning to me, he tried to force a smile. It fell after a few seconds. Scooting his desk to my side, he looked down at the open textbook. I wanted to know more about him, but at the same time I was scared. Scared that getting involved with someone who had depression would only end in tragedy. He was unpredictable. One day he could be here, and the next gone from existence. That was an experience I never wanted to go through.