Natalie~
Thoughts of wonder raced through my mind as I pushed the boy's bathroom door open.
The smell of blood, tangy and metallic, rushed through my nose as soon as the door opened. The sight before me brought back rough memories, being abused by my dad, getting beaten up, the self harm. I immediately rushed forward, right into the scene.
A guy, at least a year older than me, most likely a sophomore, was on the ground, trembling as blood poured out of his nose, mouth, and cuts all over his body. His eye was swollen shut, his lip was busted, and his eyes were wet and puffy from crying. He had shaggy brown hair, tannish skin, and large brown eyes. Besides the wounds, he was fairly attractive.
Two guys stood over him, one with a whip in his hand. The shorter one, the guy with the whip, still towered over me. He was around 6'1, whereas I am only 4'11. He had wavy long blond hair, pale freckled skin, and dark, brooding black eyes. He gave off the impression of danger, he was the type of guy who haunted me in my nightmares.
The other guy, the taller one, looked to be a seinor. He was extremely tall, around 6'8, with a well muscled body. He was tan with flipped black shaggy hair, electric blue eyes that held you in their gaze, two lip hoops, and random varying tattoos along his arms and neck, leading to what I guessed were more on his chest. They both looked around 18.
Before I realized what I was even doing, a sound errupted from my chest, a sound of raw fear. "Stop!" I screeched, grabbing on to blondie's arm as he was throwing another punch. Of course, I couldn't physically stop him, but I had wished he would listen to me.
He looked down at me, pure anger in his eyes. He grabbed my neck in his large, thin hand. "What the hell do you want?" He growled into my ear. I didn't really know what I wanted. I wanted to stop them from beating up the other guy, but I didn't really understand how I was supposed to do that.
"Don't hurt that guy! Leave him alone!" I yelled. The guy's hand tightened around my throat, doing the exact opposite of what I thought he would do.
He laughed. A long, deep laugh.
"What are you going to do about it?" He asked. I grasped at his hand, clawing it as much as I could. My lungs were screaming, and the guy's voice was becoming muffled.
"Shall we....... do the same thing to you? Shall we teach you a lesson?" He asked, chuckling. Suddenly, an idea rushed into my head.
"Trade." I wheezed. My voice was barely coming out. He laughed. "What would we trade?" He asked, grinning hungrily. This guy was enjoying this, he wanted a sacrafice, he wanted me to sacrafice my happiness and suffer so the other guy would be free.
A sacrafice was what he wanted, so a sacrafice he will get. "L-let g-go." I barely managed to mouth. He let go completely, sending me into a coughing fit while lying on the floor.
As soon as I recovered, I stood up. "I will take his place." I said. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? You would rather get beaten up for a stranger than continue to live happily?" He asked as if I were the dumbest person in the world. Well, I guess to be doing this, I practically was the dumbest girl in the world. But, he didn't know me. I wasn't happy, so this would just add to my abuse, but I wanted to do what's right. Though my mom left me, she was extremely brilliant, so whatever she says is right, besides the suicide and junk.
I hesitated, but nodded. "I want to do this." I said. The other guy, the taller one, walked up to me, grabbing my chin and lifting it up to greet his face. "Don't do this. You don't want this. I wont let you." He growled. I looked at him confused. Wasn't he a bully? What was he talking about, not letting me do the right thing? I wanted to do this. I needed to do this. Maybe, if I do this, my mom might get a little closer to me. I would get to see a different side of her.
"I want to do this." I repeated. His eyes showed a certain emotion, one I couldn't place. There was agony to it, sorrow, anger. His grip tightened. "You want this?" He asked through clenched teeth. His hand got tighter, and tighter. "You want this!" He screamed, tossing me into the wall. "Huh! Is this what you want?" He yelled, kicking me. "How does it feel? Good? Is this what you wanted to feel?" He continued to scream in my face.
Blood was coming out of my mouth, spraying the floor. The whole back of my body screamed, showing signs of an advancing bruise. My hands were bloody.
I was coughing up a fit, smiling a little. "Go on." I whispered. Fury built up behind his features. He was about to lose it. The other guy looked terrified, shock dripping from his features. The other guy, the one on the floor, was barely squirming. He was close to death. It was as if someone had busted every vein in both of our bodies by the amount of blood in the bathroom.
The other guy, the shorter bully, watched helplessly as the taller one stormed out of the bathroom. He turned towards me. "What did you do? Trace has never hurt a soul in his life." He said. I glared at him, struggling to sit up.
As that guy left the bathroom, I managed to crawl over to the guy writhing in agony on the floor. I gently shook him.
"What's your name?" I whispered. His eyes remained closed as he mouthed out the word, "Josh." I nodded. "I am gonna get you help, don't worry. They wont ever lay a finger on you again. I promise."
He let out a small breath, then his head lolled to the side. And there I was, attempting to stand so I could go get help for an unconscious boy. A boy I just sacraficed what little freedom I had left for.
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The hospital room was small and confined, the kind saved for the worst of patients. I felt obligated to watch over the boy in the small bed, but forbidden from entering the room in which he stayed.
It felt as though if I breathed the same air as him, I might go back on what I promised, for fear of ending up like him. But I knew his life was more valuable than mine, by far.
Josh's parents were worrying over every little thing, like when his heart palpitates for half a second, they think he is dying. The doctor said that he would be fine in the long run, just a broken hand and leg. There had also been deep cuts along his vein. Apparently, he was a self harmer.
And everyone was thanking me. His parents, the doctors, the nurses. Everyone. I was told that I saved his life. It didn't feel as though I was a hero, the one who saved another's life. Really, it just felt like I had given my own life away. That's what was running through my head.
Josh's mom came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. She looked into my eyes, as I did her, and she half smiled. "Sweetie, why don't you let the doctors check you out, just to make sure you aren't hurt?" She asked. She was fairly pretty, and Josh resembled her. Her skin was a soft olive color, fairly pale. Her eyes were a baby blue with green around the edges. Her hair was straight and folded down to her shoulders. She was small, but not as small as I was.
I shook my head. "No thank you. I am fine." I said, lying. She didn't seem to believe me, but nodded, lightly squeezing my shoulder. Then, she sighed, turning to look at her son through the glass. "I wish I knew who did this to him." She mumbled. I bit m y lip, contemplating an answer. I settled for, "Me too."
She looked back at me. "Sweetie, what happened to you? You are covered in bruises and blood." She said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
"I fell down some stairs while searching for someone to help Josh. And the blood is... is Josh's." I said, lying yet again. She sighed. "Are you okay?" She asked. I slightly smiled. "Yes ma'am." More lies.
