Names In The Night [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

Author's Note:
Hi guys. This next chapter contains self harm, so I'm putting a massive [[[[TRIGGER WARNING]]]]on this.
Google Edgar Degas before you read this. You'll see a little joke I put in here if you know who he is.
That's really all I have to say.
-W
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the next day

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock beeping. After shutting it off, I got out of bed and walked across the floor to my closet. I picked out a pair of clean black skinny jeans, a Misfits tee, a black hoodie and my black Doc Martens, and put them on. After applying some makeup I dashed downstairs with my backpack on. I prepared some half-burnt toast and carrots, my specialty, and after finishing breakfast I walked out the door, picking up my keys along the way. I walked outside and started my walk to school to school. Luckily I didn't run into anyone else on their way to school, or I'd receive shout of 'emo' and 'hit the emo faggot with the car'. I passed a dozen pretty houses on the way. I wondered what life is like for the inhabitants of the beautiful homes. I bet their lives are totally normal and perfectly happy. At least, they were happier and more normal than my life was. I sighed and sped up my pace. Just before my watch said it was 7:20, I got to school. I mumbled to myself, "Welcome to hell," and walked to the front office. I was greeted by an annoyingly perky blonde woman who was much too excited about the first day of school.
She said in a very high pitched voice, "Hi. You must be Ivy James. Well, I'm Mrs. Deetz, and I'm the guidance counselor. I have your schedule right here and Jenny is supposed to show you around." She said into a microphone on her desk that I assumed went to all the classrooms, "Please send Jenny Cleary to the front office." She put down the microphone and handed me the schedule. It read:

First period 8:00-8:50 Advanced Maths
Second period 8:55-9:45 Advanced English Literature
Third period 9:50-10:40 Advanced Biology
Fourth Period 10:45-11:35 World History
Fifth Period 11:40-12:30 Art
Lunch 12:35-1:25
Sixth Period 1:30-2:20 Language Studies
Seventh Period 2:25-3:15 Physical Education

She babbled on while I read the schedule, "Jenny is our Inter-Community Relations Club President. The Inter-Community Relations Club is in charge of organizing parties, welcoming new students, and solving problems within the student body. There's a whole list of clubs if you're interested in joining any."
"I'm not really the club type, but thank you anyway." Clubs were basically school funded cliques that got to skip gym to have meetings. I never joined clubs, but I always skipped gym class and sat behind the gymnasium, and this new school wasn't going to be any different. Thankfully, Jenny entered the room, forcing Mrs. Deetz to stop mindlessly mouth motoring on and on. Jenny was a short redhead covered in freckles from head to toe. She was wearing a blue flowy dress and strappy brown sandals that made her look like she was going to a peaceful protest or a Grateful Dead concert.
She said, "Good morning. You must be Ivy! I'm so glad to meet you. Let me show you around." I thought to myself, I mustn't be anything. She took my hand and lead me out of the office and into a courtyard. "This is the courtyard. It's where clubs meet and people hang out and stuff. Over here is the lunch room." She took me across the courtyard and into a brick building with large, dirty windows on one side. "We have lunch here everyday. Let me tell you a bit about the seating arrangement here. I'm not a big fan of this, but there's sort of an unspoken pecking order among the lunch tables. If you aren't a cheerleader, incredibly popular, or a jock, you can't sit at this table. If you aren't part of the drama club, you can't sit here. If you don't smoke weed, listen to Bob Dylan, or have dreadlocks, you can't sit here. If you aren't part of the club that I'm in, you can't sit here." She went on and on about who can sit where and what happens if you sit at the wrong table or take someone's seat. From what she said, I gathered that I'd be sitting outside for lunch just like at every other school I've been to. She specified the classifications for every single table in the lunch room but one in the far corner.
"Who sits at that table?" I asked.
"Trust me when I say that if you're smart, you won't sit there." She continued to drag me this way and that way across the dingy, unkempt campus. It looked as if no one really cleaned the buildings or the classrooms in them that much. After she finished showing me where my classes were and telling me all about the 'super fun parties we're gonna have this year', she dropped me off at Advanced Maths. "Good luck! Don't forget, Mrs. Foye likes people who don't ask stupid questions or chew gum in her class. Have a super great day!" I waved goodbye and took an empty seat in the middle of the class. Mistake number one.
"You're in my seat," said a very muscular boy in a jersey. The two girls flanking him on either side looked even more intimidating than he did. The girl to his right was very tall, tan, and blonde. Her hair looked like someone had bleached it and then decided that it wasn't blonde enough so they made it almost white-blonde. She looked like the kind of girl who you wouldn't put it past to stab someone in the back with a sparkly Gucci stiletto. The girl to his left was a skinny brunette of medium height in a cheer uniform. Both girls were wearing copious amounts of makeup and self tanner. The boy was towering over almost everyone in the room. His brown hair, strong jawline, and blindingly white teeth made him look like the type of guy who cheated on three girls at once. "Are you deaf, emo? You're in my seat." I didn't respond. Mistake number two.
The brunette said, "Get out of Marcus' seat, faggot. Brittany, isn't that Marcus' seat?"
The blonde said, "Yeah, Allison. It is. Move, idiot!" My continual disregard for their existence resulted in Marcus picking up the seat and dumping me onto the floor. They laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world as I tried to quickly pick my books up off the floor and move to a seat in the very back row. The next four classes passed in a blur. I did pay attention, mind you, but the clock seemed to be going on double time. Before I knew it, it was time to go to art class. I made my way over to the last room on the second floor and hesitantly pushed the door open. I didn't want to come face to face with Marcus any time soon, and I didn't know if he was in this class. He was in most of my other classes. Thankfully, the only person in the class room was a woman in her mid thirties with her brown hair in a messy bun and black-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose. She said very loudly, "Ah, you must be Ivy! Welcome, welcome, welcome to my art room. My name is Ms. Edwina Degas, pronounced De-gah. I hate it when people say it like de-gas, so please do your best to pronounce it correctly. I'm very glad you're here today. It appears as if you are the only person in your grade who signed up for Fifth Period Art. There's only one other class, which is first period, and that has about twenty people in it. So, Ivy, do you have any experience with art?" So far, she was arguably my favorite teacher. She just had a certain aura around her that radiated spontaneity and compassion for others.
"Yes, Ms. Degas. Here are a few of my sketchbooks." I pulled out two of my most recent sketchbooks from my backpack and placed them in her hands. She eagerly flipped through them, here eyes carefully scanning each page. As she looked through them, I looked around the room. Not only were the walls covered in paintings and art, but there were also several degrees in art history, among other art related subjects, above Ms. Degas' desk.
When she finished looking at my artwork, she said, "Well, Ivy, you are incredibly talented. Your work is excellent and better than most of my senior's, but don't tell them that. I was thinking that instead of starting with sketching and pencil you could go ahead and start working with oil and acrylic and ceramics. Does that sound good to you?" I nodded vigorously. I was practically glowing. It felt great to have your work complimented by someone who obviously was cognizant about art. "Great. Let's get working." Ms. Degas handed me a medium sized canvas and told me to sketch something out on it that I wanted to paint with oil. I was a quarter of the way through sketching out a Phoenix in mid flight when the bell for lunch rang. "Good bye, Ivy. Farewell!"
"Goodbye, Ms. Degas." I walked out of the art room with my stomach churning. From what Jenny had said in the period of time she showed me the campus, lunch was a daunting occasion filled with horror and humiliation. It felt like I was taking the final steps to the guillotine as I neared the lunch room. I pushed the door open and stepped into the lunch room. The noise of teenagers laughing and yelling was practically deafening. I scanned the room for an empty table. Every single table was full. I walked slowly between the tables, dodging legs stuck out to trip me. I found myself passing tables filled with girls whispering behind their manicured hands and heading straight toward the table Jenny told me that I wouldn't sit at if I was smart. The only person sitting there was a boy with dark, choppy hair, a thin line of eyeliner around his icy blue eyes, and an Iron Maiden tee shirt. He was listening to music with his headphones on while eating lunch, so I hoped if I sat down he wouldn't notice me. I walked over to the seat opposite him and sat down.
He said, "Unless you wanna get laughed at by everyone in the whole damn school, you should sit somewhere else."
"That's gonna happen even if I don't sit here."
"Okay then. You can sit if you want." He stuck out his hand and said, "My name's Andy. Andy Biersack."
I shook his hand and replied, "I'm Ivy. Ivy James."
"So you like the Misfits, Ivy?"
"Yeah, and I'm guessing you like Iron Maiden?" He nodded in reply to my question. Those two sentences sparked up a long winded conversation about punk rock, heavy metal, and alternative music. We talked for almost the whole lunch period about music.
He asked me, "Hey, Ivy, I don't know if this is too forward, but I was wondering if I could have you phone number."
"Of course you can. Hand me your phone and I'll put it in." He handed me his phone and I added myself as a contact. I handed his phone back to him and said, "Here's my phone. If you want you can put your number in." He put his phone number in and handed it back to me just as Marcus walked up to our table with his band of followers.
"Hey look, the emo faggot has a girlfriend," Marcus yelled causing his friends to laugh.
I was fed up with him by then, so I said, "That doesn't even make sense. You're saying that he has a girlfriend, but he's a faggot. Your contradicting yourself, as well as being a hypocrite, and you're just acting stupid." Marcus was fuming. He had a visage of pure rage. He looked like a rhinoceros that was about to stampede. A big, stupid, angry rhinoceros.
"You're gonna regret that, bitch. I'll make you wish you were never born." He stomped off, followed by his cronies.
Andy looked at me with panic and something that looked like fear in his eyes as he said, "You really shouldn't have said that, Ivy. He can get violent."
"He deserved it." Just before Andy replied the bell rang for Language Studies. I walked out of the lunch room, my stomach growling. I tried to ignore it as best as I could and go to class. I ignored the teacher the whole time. I'd already taken this class before at a different school in Nebraska, which was before we moved to Ohio, and I remembered all the information she was monotonously repeating. I sketched all over my notebook until the bell rang for gym. I grabbed all of my stuff out from my locker and walked across the campus and to the brick wall that was the back of the gymnasium. I took a seat with my back against the wall and pulled my math assignment out from my backpack.
"Jesus fucking Christ, this will take a long time to finish," I said under my breath. The sun's hot rays made me want to take my jacket off, but I refused to show my scars, even if no one was around to see them. I started working to the distant, muffled sounds of the shouts of students in the gymnasium. I was halfway through the 2 page assignment when the bell rang for the end of the school day. After finishing the problem I was on, I packed up and started to leave, when a push to the back caused me to fall over onto the ground. I heard a familiar raucous laughter which lead me to believe Marcus, Brittany, and Allison were the culprits. I tried to get back up to run away, but I was pushed down again by Marcus' rough hands. I was too weak to get back up, and my backpack was weighing me down.
"And stay down you ugly piece of shit," he spat. I removed my arms from the straps of my backpack and attempted to crawl away, but a kick to the stomach knocked all of the wind out of me. I was gasping for breath, my lungs heaving in and out while Brittany and Allison said something I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears. Brittany pushed me over onto my back with her high heel, causing me to wince.
She said in a mock baby voice, "Aww, the wittle emo is hurt." She aggressively jabbed my lower lip with the pointed heel of her stilettos, causing my lip to break and start to bleed down the side of my face.

A kick to the ribs.

A punch to the eye.

A stomp on my hand.

I could no longer place the location of pain. It was just everywhere.

It seemed as if they had had their fun, because they left me alone, bleeding on the crushed grass behind the gymnasium. I mustered all the strength left in me to get up, gather my things, and walk home. The sun had been hidden by dark grey rain clouds all across the sky. My swollen hand fumbled with the keys to my house. After some struggle, I managed to open the front door to my house and go inside. Thankfully when I got home my mom was still at work, otherwise she'd see me looking like an utter wreck.

Hopefully my eye wouldn't be as swollen when she got home. I didn't want her to ask questions about what had happened.

I walked over to the medicine cabinet above the kitchen sink. I pulled out an ice pack and put it on my purple, swollen eye. Pain shot through my face and I grimaced. I found an ace bandage that I wrapped around my bleeding, battered ribcage. I could count all the bones poking out of my chest without having to try very hard. I took two more bandages out of the cabinet and put them in the pockets of my jacket. I walked up the stairs and into my room. I dropped my backpack at the door and shuffled over to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and stepped towards the sink. I opened the drawer underneath the sink.

My blades were still there, staring back at me.

Waiting.

I picked up a rectangular razor blade and sat down in the clean empty bathtub. The surface of the bathtub was cold against my pale skin. I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket and started to open my skin.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Seven bleeding wounds on each wrist. I heard a rumble of thunder and the sky opened up, dumping rain on the world outside. Words said to me by students as I walked about school started to float about my head, making me feel small. You're such a fucking weirdo. You're a freak. Go kill yourself, emo. We'd all be a lot happier if you were dead, weirdo. Gonna go cry and cut yourself, emo? Huh? Tears started to run down my bruised and bleeding face. I leaned up against the side of the bathtub and lay my head against the ceramic side. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. I slightly opened my eyes and pulled the bandages out of my pockets to wrap them around my bleeding wrists. The bandages stung and pressed down on my wrists. I sucked in breath quickly to prevent myself from crying out from the pain. The way I felt pain was abnormal. I could take a proper beating without screaming or yelling very much, but if my wrists stung I would vocalize the pain I felt very frequently. I pulled my jacket sleeves back down, covering up the white bandages that were stained with blood. I leaned my head back on the side of the tub and fell asleep.