living or existing | mgc

two

Michael's pov.

"Hello?"

A voice sounds through my phone. it's with a girl, I can tell. I let out a deep breath that i didn't even know I was holding in.

"Uh. Hello," I say softly, my voice still hoarse from crying earlier.

I need to pull myself together.

I hear some shuffling. "How are you?"

I think about this before answering. how am I?

"I'm okay, I just don't want to live anymore," I finally answer.

"Why?" Her angelic voice rings through my ear, it's soothing almost.

"It's just- I n-nobody likes me, it would just be better if I saved the misery from everyone around me, and just gave them what they want," I spoke, biting my lip and trying hard to not to cry.

As if on cue, the voices in my head started whispering insults to me and my wrists started itching, I looked down at my scabbed up scars, and I started scratching myself, digging my nails into the underside of my wrists, waiting for the voice on the end of the line to answer.

"Hey, you know that's not true. Sorry to be blunt, but that is utter bullshit. I know, for a fact, that somebody, I don't know who, but somebody loves you. Love is love. Everybody has to love somebody," the voice answered, and I felt slightly better about myself. A little bit.

I stayed quiet, scratching at my scabs again. They were itchy.

She continued, "I know that you had a bad day today, but please, please overlook that. Tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it yet. Because some days you just have to say 'fuck it, I did what I  could do today' and just let go of all the little stuff you wanted to do. Life is too short to be angry with yourself being human."

"Thank you so much," I breathed heavily.

"You are so welcome. Do you have anything else you want to talk about?"

---

Me and the voice on the line, we talked for about and hour or so about my thoughts and feelings, and whoever it was really helped. A lot.

I remember having to go and hanging up the phone, falling into a deep slumber with my phone resting on my face.

The next day was the same as the previous day, getting hit a few times, getting thrown insults from everywhere.

As I was packing my school bag & getting ready to leave back to home, my name went over the speakers.

"Michael Clifford, please come to the front office."

I bit my lip. Why was I getting called to the office?

I walked past all the judgemental faces from all the kids that were standing in the corridors, staring at me.

"freak."

"fat."

"nobody."

I tugged at my shirt, trying to hide my overweight body as I kept my head down, not even daring to look up at them.

Eventually, I turned the corner into the principle's, Mr. Howe's, office.

"Hello Michael!" Mr Howe greets me as I stand in the doorway. "Come in, come in!" His grin reaches from ear to ear as I sit down on one of the leather seats he has placed in front of his desk.

I look down at my feet as i tug my baggy shirt down further & tug at my sleeves, for more than one reason.

"So, how have you been Michael?" He asks me, causing my head to snap up and look at him.

Mr. Howe is a friendly man, I guess. He has a mostly bald head, only a few black, short strands and patches in various places. He has glistening white teeth and a short beard that bounces on his chin as he talks.

"Um, good, I guess," I nod.

'Not,' my inner voice says. I quickly shut him up by smiling at Mr. Howe. not a genuine smile, but a small one to at least make him believe me.

"Oh, that's great! Now, uh, the reason why I brought you in here, Michael, is because we have to discuss your math grades."

I mentally sigh as i drop my gaze from him and stare at the blue wall. Here we go.

"Now, you have an exam coming up in the next few weeks, Michael. I really want you to do well on it, it's so important for your future that you pass. I was just sitting at my desk, wondering, how would you feel to have a tutor, Michael? As in a student in your class who goes to your house and helps you after school, and such."

I squirm in my seat. A tutor. From this school. Nobody at this school likes me. Imagine if I got James or one of his friends to tutor me? I can't bear the thought.

But for some stupid fucking reason, my mouth speaks before my mind. "Yes, that will be great."

I mentally slap myself. why? why did i agree to this? I can't help but think this is all going to go absolutely horrible.

---

Darby's pov.

"Darby Hemmings, please go to the office," Mr. howe's voice rang through the speakers of the classroom.

Everyone looked at me, besides the vibrant red headed kid who sat behind me and didn't dare to look at anyone.

Sighing, I edged from my seat, excusing myself from the room and into the front office.

"Hello Darby! How are you? " Mr. Howe greets me as I stand in the doorway.

"Hi, I'm good, thank you." I smile at him, walking into the room and sitting down.

"Good, good! Now, Darby, the reason why I brought you in here is because, well, I have read over everyone's reports this semester and you are absolutely fantastic at mathematics," he smiles at me before continuing, "And some people in your year level aren't, and there's an exam coming up. I really want all students to do well on this test I was thinking, how would you like to be a tutor?"

I nodded. Tutoring. That sounds alright, actually.

"Yeah, yeah. i'll do it," I say and Mr. Howe breaks out into a crooked grin.

"Thank you, thank you so much Darby!" He shook my hand, and my stomach turned a knot.

would I regret this?

----

ok this was really short and kind of boring and sucky oops sorry yeah i didn't know how to end it bye x