This Year Will be Different

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~Six Years Ago~

What a weirdo

Oh no I think he wants to come sit with us, hurry let's move

Who does he think he is

He thinks he's better than us just because he's smart

Doesn't he know that no one likes him

Those freckles are so ugly

If he's so smart he should just take the hint

No one wants him here

Ew stay away from us

Freak

Psycho

Just leave

Leave

Leave

Go way

Go already

Go die

kill yourself



...



......




..............

"NO! STOP!"

A young eleven-year-old Felix sits upright with a gasp, heart thumping chest heaving and drenched in a cold sticky sweat. A shaky hand slowly rises up in front of his face and stays there. Tears stream down his face dripping slowly off his cheeks and onto the bed sheets on his lap. Seconds pass by. Minutes. Until finally his breathing starts to slow, his quivering hand halts and the tears stop.

"Calm down, Felix," a small young voice whispers, piercing the silence.

The young boy reaches over to his nightstand, grabs his glasses and quickly puts them on after wiping his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. Quietly, he slips out of bed and walks over to his dresser where a set of clothes rest previously prepared the night before. After changing, socked feet pad into the bathroom before the door closes behind him.

After a while, Felix's mother knocks softly on the door, "Morning Sweetie almost ready for your first day of school? Your breakfast will start to cool down,"

A muffled "coming!" reaches her ears before she turns and heads back towards the kitchen.

Inside Felix's glasses rest inside their case shoved to the corner of the counter. Felix stares with wide eyes close to the mirror as he finally accomplishes putting in his second contact lens. He takes a step back taking in his appearance and smirks. Freshly died light brown hair has been styled into a quiff, while his unsightly freckles are covered with foundation and new contacts complete the look.

Stood in front of the mirror is a boy completely transformed compared to the shorter, black-haired, geeky-looking kid with glasses that stood there months ago. The one that had been so broken down by words and fists that his eyes were constantly puffy from crying himself to sleep the night before. The one that had his spirit so broken that he no longer looked forward to waking up in the morning and dreaded each step that he took within his last school.

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