How To: Spare A Life

Show And Tell And Horrible Kids

Like I mentioned in the last chapter, this one does include sensitive topics (bullying). I would recommend skipping over it if this makes you uncomfortable.

Saihara's p.o.v.
He's gone . . . again. How can I keep letting this happen? Keep letting him slip through my fingers? How many times? But, I'm not done. Not yet. Not ever. Because I promise, Ouma. No matter the cost. No matter what it takes. Or how long it takes. No matter the pain and suffering I must endure. No matter if you never know what I did for you, a complete stranger. I promise . . .

I will save you.

Ouma's p.o.v.
This time I was in maybe the second or third grade in a classroom of other young students around seven or eight. A teacher was at the front of the room saying something that I couldn't understand because their voice was warbled. It was as if my ears were stuffed with cotton. The chalkboard behind them, most likely a her, read Show and Tell in neat white print that stood out against the rest of the dark board.

She looked towards me and smiled as she moved her lips. No words came out, but for some reason I stood and moved to the front of the room. I could practically feel the other students eyes following me as I made my way up the rows of desks and stood before them. Their stares shot through me like daggers and I began to tremble in fear.

I began to speak as I meekly held my object up for the class to see. I was unsure of what it was, as I only looked down at the floor, and every once in a while, at the teacher.

I was about half way through my presentation when I noticed a small girl in the back of the class faint or something. The teacher saw as well and quickly escorted her to the nurse's office and instructed us to finish up our displays while she was gone and that she'd return shortly. Until then, she'd left me . . . alone.

Why was I so nervous. I felt like a mouse about to be swallowed whole by a snake. But we were all just kids, right? What's the worst that could hap-

"Hey, Loser! Pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

This voice was clear and I felt what I guessed to be a wadded up piece of paper collide with the side of my head as I heard it. The faces in the room were still a blur, but I knew that the attacker was a girl in the front row. She never liked me and because everyone liked her that was a shared opinion among the others.

"Yeah, get it together Idiot! Don't ignore her!" A boy chimed in. It was her best friend who I knew had a huge crush on her and who'd promised to make sure I'd regret it if I ever told her.

While I was distracted two other students had decided to find more items to throw at me. More wadded up papers. Pencils. Erasers.

"Just hurry up and finish already! Quit being so boring!"

"Yeah, maybe someone else has something worth sharing that's not a waste of our time!"

"Ha! You could have at least brought something interesting! That things worthless!"

"No, he's worthless! Look, he's scared!"

The room broke out in laughter and more projectiles were thrown my way. Soon enough, the entire room was attacking me. All I could do was shield myself and my item with my arms as I began to sob.

"Awww. Are you gonna cry?" They mocked.

"You're such a baby!"

"Ah! Wahhh! Where's you're binki little baby?"

"S-stop it! STOP! P-PLEASE!" His voice rang through my ears, but I knew the sounds had come from me. "YOU'RE H-HURTING ME! S-S-STOP!"

"Or else what?"

"Yeah, are you gonna go tell your mommy on us! Oh mommy! The k-kids at sc-school are being m-m-meeeaan! Oh wait! You don't have a mommy anymore! DO YOU?"

Laughter filled the class again and I sprinted out of the area sobbing to the boy's bathroom.

Once I was there, I pulled myself into a tight ball and huddled in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest, my item in hand as more tears rolled down my cheeks.

After a few minutes I pulled away a bit and finally got a clear view of the item I'd brought. It was a detective hat. It was kind of old and was covered in a thin veil of dirt and dust, but it was important to me. I could feel it. It was my uncle's. He was my idle and I wanted to grow up to be just like him: a detective.

I stood up to look in the mirror above me. Staring back at me was a heartbreaking sight: a small navy haired boy with puffy golden eyes and a tear stained face that was also splotchy with red and a few cuts from the projectiles from earlier. I shakily took the hat, dusted it off a bit, and placed it on my head and forced a grin. It was a little big and didn't fit entirely right, but it was a part of me.

I felt so broken and alone inside. I wanted to screech and howl. To weep and cry. To hit something. To break something. To hurt someone. To sleep. To vent. To be myself. To be alone. To have friends. To live. To die. To make the world around me . . . disappear.

I'm was sad.

But if anyone asked . . .

I'm fine.

And I'd give them a flawless fake smile.

Because that's all it takes to fool someone who doesn't really care.

Oh, it's nothing. I'm okay. There's nothing wrong. It's alright. I'm fine.

That was my life.
Word count:984

Also, I made a new cover.

And if you don't remember or didn't see it. This is the old one.

What do you guys think? Old or new one?