Scars • hood au

17

a l e x a n d r a

A voice spoke with hatred and disgust while a crowd responded with a chorus of devilish laughs - all of it pointed towards me, and only me.

I had to be strong, because I'd promised Calum, Luke and myself about it. No matter what happened in school, I was already used to it all.

But there was a problem that could never be solved: I was weak.

Oh, fuck that!

I was always weak! No matter how hard I tried to keep the tears from flowing out; to stand my ground and fight back; to ignore the hate and block out their malicious words; to keep moving - it never worked out.

Michael's arms were ready for my collapse, and I did.

Tears started to well in my eyes and drifted off the lids, falling on my cheeks. I couldn't hold them in, as always.

He wrapped his arms around me and turned his back to face the halls so I was hidden from the state of chaos.

Calum was fuming.

His face was red and his grip on his backpack was hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Shut up, Emmett! What if you were in the same situation? Would you like it if they make fun of you and your dead mother?!"

Calum's defending me. Me. But why?

The red head's arms circle around my body even tighter and I could feel his thumbs tracing circles on my skin (through the blazer).

"C'mon, Cal, ignore them." Michael pulled him by the back of his collar and he retreated.

Apparently Emmett stopped at Calum's words and walked away, whistling. The crowd had even started walking for class.

Michael kissed the top of my head - sending shivers down my spine at the contact - before letting me go, walking alongside them as I was in the middle of us three.

"You sure you want to continue school for today? Ashton can make a U-turn for us anytime." Calum assured but I wanted to be strong for once.

Plus, I loved fiction-writing. It was like...a great escape for me from this universe and into an alternate one.

It's a world where I could create my own characters, make my own world and write out their lives before me. Their life and death - all in my hand and imagination.

I could escape.

Escape all these terrible scenes and into a world where everything depended on me.

Escape all these pretentious people and hatred.

Escape all these disgust that people were throwing at me.

Escape all these scars.

They might had been fading, but they were still there. Even fresher by memory - each and every one of them.

Neither the ones carved on my arms or decorating my heart could fade. They would always be there.

"Alex?"

I snapped back and realized that we'd stopped just before the door to my fiction-writing class.

Did I really want to step into this haven before me and leave the real world behind? Or did I want to go with these two boys I had now call friends where I knew I'd have fun with and the scars would never even cross my mind?

I chose the latter.

Both pair of eyes focused on my state and I turned to look up at them, both having an eyebrow raised.