Summer camp

Punk rock boy

I bit my lip as the sharp piece of metal sliced my skin. The blood gathered into beads, and when there was too much to handle, it trickled down my arm. It reminded me of myself. I keep all my emotions locked up until I break, and fall.

In middle school, I made the mistake of being openly gay. The comments and remarks directed towards me were relentless. They never stopped, I never got a break.

Later, the bullying got worse. I would get beaten by kids I didn't even know almost everyday. Kids tripped me, sabotaged homework, and made my life horrible. I became depressed and my mom took me to a therapist. He prescribed me anti-depressants.

These things weren't In the least cheap. My father would yell at my mother and I. He said I didn't need them, that we were wasting money. He eventually left my mother. It was my fault, why did I have to be such a screw up?

My mom decided I needed a new start, and that's when we moved. As I've said, I didn't get along with anyone at the new school. The teachers hated me, I hated them, there was no point.

I blinked and looked down at my wrist.

"Shit.." I muttered to myself. I had gotten blood on my sweatshirt. It was black, so I don't think you could see it unless you looked. Oh well.

I winced as I rinsed my wrist with the water from the sink. It burned, shit, it burns.

I pulled away from the water and applied pressure to the new scars that littered my wrist. I pulled down my sleeve and slipped out the bathroom door. Slyly, I tiptoed down the stairs to my make-shift bedroom. I was careful not to wake my not-so-sober mom.

I made it down the stairs and notice a piece of white paper lying on my mattress. I walked over to it, trying to make out what it could be.

I stop when I'm close enough to read the bold letters on the top of the page

"ST. PETERS SUMMER CAMP"

It read.

Damn, she wasn't kidding.

I snatched up the piece paper and positioned it into my hands, close enough to my face to read the tiny printed letters.

"Thank you for admitting your child into St. Peter's Summer Camp! We will be sure to have a blast with your child/ teen . . .

Recommended ages 6-18."

Ugh. If only I was over 18 already. I'm currently 17, and not happy with it. When will I be able to get out of this house?

I examined the paper further and discovered the address and days. It was surprisingly close, I've probably seen it before, considering the fact it's at least 3 blocks away. I could bike there.

It's my fault my moms life has ending up like this, so I can try to satisfy her this once.

Man, I'm too old for this.

* * *

It's Monday, also my first day of this Summer camp. I'm seriously reconsidering this now. What If people from my school show up? What if none of the counselors like me?

My worries took over my brain and the anxiety hit me like a bus. My hands clutched my stomach as the sinking feeling took over. My breath sped up quickly, and suddenly I had no control over myself. I was on the floor, twitching with unsteady breaths. I started crawling towards my cabinet desperately.

My fingertip grazes the handle and I make one final push. I open the cabinet quickly and take the bottle of pink pills from the bottom shelf. I uncap it quickly and slip at least three past my lips.

I waited for the pills to kick in, and after five minutes I felt the strong medication starting to work at my nerves. I calmed down and soon enough I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

My eyes flutter open to a bright light above me. I squint as I raise my arm I'm over my eyes to block out the harsh light. Once I got the energy, I lifted my arm up again and observed my watch.

Shit. 30 minutes until camp. Ugh, why am I doing this?

I get up and look in the mirror. I'm a mess. I've got bags under my red eyes and my unruly curls are sticking out of my head in every direction. I start to try and fix my poor excuse of a face, hoping to be done in about ten minutes so I could make it to camp on time. Hm. That's not like me.

I splash some water on my face and add some sort of styling agent to my hair to tame it. After I look fairly decent, I hop on my bike and make my way to camp. I get a little worried about what I'll look like after all this air blowing in my face.

Ok. I've just got to turn the corner. It's right there, you can do it.

I poked my head out of the corner. If I went the right the way, this should be it.

"Hi there! Are you lost?" A voice comes from behind me. I grow tense.

"Um.." I turn around and see a beautiful girl with long brown hair. The top Half of it was up, the other down and curled very nicely. The ringlets bounces with every Step she took, and oh shit, those steps are towards me.

"Well, I'm Eleanor. I'm the manager of St. Peter's Summer camp! Your probably be on your way there now, right? Oh, your going to LOVE your counselor. C'mon C'mon don't be shy! I'll introduce you!" She spoke rather quickly.

Well she is certainly in a good mood today. Before I could respond, she's already dragging me around the corner and towards the camp. I follow her into the camp and into the café. I was surprised to see all the staff there, sitting on tables while they laughed and joked. One counselor caught my eye before we even reached them.

His hair was a light chestnut brown, with an dark red stripe in his quiff. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue that clashed with my emerald green ones. He had a lip and eyebrow piercing, quite punk if you asked me. Looked around my age. He was attractive, to say the least. I realize I'm staring and glance towards the floor.

"Ooo! Newcomer huh? Cute one." The punk boy says, and I blush.

"Sorry, he's like that. This is louis. Louis, meet...uh..."

"Harry" I said quietly. My voice cracked a little, I hope he didn't notice. I looked up to meet his eyes, and when I do we both blush fiercely.

C'mon, I just met this guy. What's up with me?

He lifts up his arm to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. "Harry, eh?" I nod. "I'm Louis. I'm a counselor-in-training because I have nothing better to do." He says, smiling giddily.

"Oh and yea I'm 19" he laughs. Ok, so he's around my age. Not that It matters.

"Ok! Moving on!" Eleanor says forcefully. She glares at louis quickly, then turns back to me.

___________________________

Wow I didn't think I'd be writing so much but it's fun so why not XD

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~Nikk Xx