Dear Bully

Dear Bully

Ch. XX: Introduction

I don’t believe in fate. Our choices are our own, and the consequences, well, they’re ours too. And it was my choice to be in Central on the day that Corway Evans tried to commit suicide.

 Corway Evans was a monster, make no mistake about it. There wasn’t a sliver of decency in him, nor did I think that he felt any remorse for how he acted or what he said. Under the heavy material of my uniform, there was evidence to the fact that Corway liked to hurt people. It started emotionally. A few callous words, maybe spreading a rumor or two – it hadn’t been serious and everyone had found it a little funny. But then, it had escalated to actual violence and the humor in his antics was lost. Corway was an asshole and I didn’t doubt that nobody would care that he died.

Standing on the platform, waiting for the train, he looked like everyone else. Only, he wasn’t. Once, I had seen the marks on his arms. He’s a cutter, I had reflected blandly. The scabs were dark and fresh, feral and ferocious. He had wanted to severely harm himself. And I remember wondering why someone who had the admiration of the entire school – caused by fear, if nothing else – would feel so lost that he needed to self-harm. I never received an answer to that question… at least not until he made to take the first step to walk in front of the train.

I don’t know what compelled me to do it. Sure, I looked up to Corway – in the same kind of way that Frankenstein’s Bride looked at Frankenstein for the first time. I was terrified, sure, but there was something else. Something electrifying about him, a feeling that always left me needing more. Not the abuse, of course. No, I could live without that. But it was an unconscious need within myself to disconnect from my own troubles and worry about someone else. And no matter how many times he shot me down, I would save Corway from himself.

“Corway!” My own voice sounded foreign to my ears. The crowd of people parted, none-the-wiser to the unfortunate soul that was about to be splattered by the mid-afternoon train to East Pacific.

Looking back on it, it must have been awfully ironic for Corway to turn around and see me there. Tessa Blackwater, Victim No. 1. I had had that name tattooed on my neck since he first saw me in kindergarten. But then, he turned back forcefully and started to move faster. My heart clenched and I threw my stuff down, taking off in a run. My old kicks hit the gravel hard and splashed mucky water into the air. Some man had already started to rummage through my purse. I didn’t care. All I knew was that I needed to reach Corway.

The whistle of the train was coming closer now. Corway was onto the tracks and I could hear the awful wail of brakes as the conductor tried not to hit him. The platform was level with the entrance to the train, so the tracks were about two feet below. And beyond the tracks was a barbed-wire fence which marked the end of Central and the beginning of North Pacific. Not really thinking, I dove onto the platform beside him. Wrapping my tiny arms around him, I was barely able to haul him back to the platform before the train skidded to a halt. He was safe.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed yourself!” I found myself screaming, but Corway didn’t really seem to care. It must have been the rush of adrenaline… combined with an undeniable fear.

Corway twisted out of my arms, cursing blindly as he did so. “It’s not like anybody would have cared if I did.” He muttered under his breath. “Don’t act like you care, Tessa. I know it’s a lie.”

“Please, Corway. No bull, I’m really here for you. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have risked my life to pull your sorry ass back off of those rails. Please. You can trust me.” I reached out for him, but something in his eyes had hazed over.

He took hold of my wrist and contorted it awkwardly. I cried out in shock as the first vestiges of pain started to register in my brain. “You dumb bitch – I told you that I don’t like liars.”

Tears bubbled in my eyes, but I tried to ward them off. I had never cried in front of him before. “P-Please, Corway…”

“What?” He screamed in my face. Both of us flinched at how loud it suddenly was in the silence.

Despite my best efforts, the first tears fell. “You’re hurting me, Corway.”

And just like that, he broke down. Yanking his hand away, almost as if my flesh had burned him, he stared down at my rapidly bruising skin and broke down into fits of sobs. Not really knowing what else to do, I took hold of him and brought him into my chest. His head fell awkwardly between my breasts, but at that moment, I didn’t really care. Tenderly stroking his ash-blond hair, I was able to make the words ‘sorry, sorry, so sorry’. His big body trembled in my arms and I felt like a mother consoling a child after he had lost his favorite toy.

Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe Corway wasn’t a monster. Maybe he did feel remorse, and all of that was just bottled inside, ready to explode if it wasn’t watched carefully. Watching Corway cry for the first time in… well, forever… I realized that he was human, just a teenage boy like any other. And bullies could be bullied too. But I doubt that anyone would be stupid enough to mess with Corway Evans. That would be a death sentence, no doubt about it. Gently, I started to remove him from the front of my dress.

“Corway?” He blinked his big, watery blue eyes at me, as if he didn’t remember where he was.

“D-Don’t speak. I… I don’t want… don’t want to think.” Corway stuttered out. He rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, causing his sleeves to roll back. Once again, I was faced with those bloody scabs.

I stared at them for a minute, before I knew what I needed to do. “I never thought that I would do this, but… would you like to come over to my house for dinner? My mom is making her special meatballs.”

After several minutes of silence, Corway finally answered. “I’m not sure if I can.”

“Why not?” I raised one blond eyebrow.

“My dad will beat the living shit -,” here, he paused, his face uncomfortably blank. “I’ll be there at six.”

I looked him over carefully, unsure of what to make of what he had just said. In the end, I brushed it to the back of my mind. “Here’s my address.” I wrote it down on the back of his hand. “Don’t be late.”

He stared at it for several minutes, confused. Finally, he nodded. “I won’t be.”

How was I to know that one little dinner would alter both of our lives forever?