True P.O.V

When I woke up, a sense of dread, I had detention this afternoon.

My father had beaten me with a belt after Mr. Clenevence, aka Alister had left. I had to face my father's belt.

My back hurts still from the belt, but I'm not one to complain. Especially about the abuse, I get from my family.

I walked down the narrow hallways heading towards my Reading class, with my teacher Mrs. Parson, who simply doesn't like me, but I know she loves my brother. Can't explain why I'm not too sure myself.

I mean, there is literally nothing to admire about my brother, though I used to be my brother's biggest admirer, those days are long, long gone.

I used to think that maybe one day I'd wake up and feel like the world is perfect, and I'd be accepted and no longer bullied and my family would care, I guess that was just my subconscious talking there. I mean it was obviously never going to happen.

We don't get what we want, we what we deserve.

When I make it to Mrs. Parson's room I walk all the way to the back of the room, where bookshelf covered the walls, books like the Hunger Games saga and Vampire Diaries series. Most of them I've either read or don't want to read.

I sat in the back corner, the chair furthest down the row but closed row of desks to the door, so I'd simply have to get up and walk out of the room, instead of walking around a maze of desks and kids who stayed at there desks for way too long, procrastinators is what they are.

I lay my head against the desk, looking out the double sized windows, this was once a science classroom, so there was also a glass door between the two windows, and the door leads to a balcony for experiments, or what was once of experiments, it's now where Mrs. Parson has her morning coffee, she has a little deck like thing set up out there.

I saw the small flecks of rain as it fell from the sky, heard the tiny patter of what could be mistaken for little children running land against the windows and ceiling, it was almost peaceful. Almost.

Then the teacher walked in. Along with a new student. She was tall and had dyed hair in a lilac color, which on her looked very nice.

She stayed next to the teacher, obviously waiting to be introduced by Mrs. Parson. When the bell rang, Tommy Lee, one of our exchange students closed the door for Mrs. Parson, like he did every day, without any exception.

Mrs. Parson slammed a book onto her desk which stopped the talking, it also startled the new girl. Oh, shit she's going to become a popular girl, that much is very clear.

"Class!" Mrs. Parson crocked out in her old woman voice. "I want you to welcome our new student, Amilee Stening, who came all the way from England to attend school here for a couple semesters." Mrs. Parson gestured for Amilee to continue and describe herself a little bit.

"Hello!" She said cheerfully in a slight British accent that very few would actually hear. "My name is Amilee, I was originally born in France, which is a language I can speak, I have a small family, my sister's name is Hailee, but she's off somewhere in L.A. probably partying!" She remained cheerful throughout her whole talk.

I don't like her.

I don't like her at all, and I can't figure out why. Something about her makes me want to stop and run away.

I have a fight or flight instinct, and since Amilee started talking, the urge to 'flight' was getting stronger.

"Okay Amilee, find a seat." Mrs. Parson smiled at her, oh no, Mrs. Parson likes her. Of course, she does. I keep my eyes out and towards the window, to avoid the girl that was giving me chills.

Amilee walks down the third row and sat next to Mckenna Blakely. Now let me understand something about Mckenna, she doesn't like anybody in this school, and somehow she's one of the most popular girls in the school. I don't see it. I don't see why guys go crazy over her, she's average in my eyes. Nothing special. Other's seem to disagree with me. But whatever.

She's slept with my brother before though. I've seen her at my house, almost butt-necked, she didn't see me, but she did sneak into my room one time and cried she didn't know it was a room, she probably thought it was a closet, and since the lights were off, she didn't see me laying on my bed, wide-eyed and tired. She had cried for a while, and I had to keep myself awake and watch my breathing so she didn't know I was in there, with her, when she thought she was alone, she muttered to herself that she would always be alone.

She doesn't know what it's like to be alone.

I, I know what it's like to alone. Trust me. I, out everyone in this school, this town, this city, know what it's like to be alone.

Amilee and Mckenna started into a conversation I heard something about hair and then I tuned it out. Teenage garbage, that's what Mckenna is and if Amilee hangs out with Mckenna, what she'll be.

Mrs. Parson goes into the lesson about this and that, but I wasn't paying any attention to the lesson, my gaze was on the clock, I was dreading each second that went by, especially after my first class.

Mr. Troy had been all smirks and smiles, especially when he looked at me. Creepy.

Mrs. Troy was the same, well almost, she looked almost excited.

But I wasn't going to let whatever Mr. and Mrs. Troy thought was going to happen, happen. I've been through too much to hurt again.

I can't take that much more pain. Other's would have cracked by now, I'm trying to be strong for those who actually seem to care.

Kyle.

Karin.

Claire.

Bryan.

Keshia.

I know, it's a short list. But I think, I hope everyone on the list cares. I hope.

Knowing people they'll change they're mind and forget about me, and simply let me give up because why keep holding onto something that is already broken?

Oh, shit bad thoughts, need to keep them under control.

The bell ringing snapped my attention from my glare at the clock and the wall around it.

I grab the few belongings I care between classes and walk out of the room, swarming into the crowd of other students.

I keep my head down and ignore any comments made in my direction, wanting to avoid everyone, because simply, I didn't want to be here. I mean no one would care if I showed up or not. Literally! No one in this school would give a shit if I decided to skip.

No one would care if I died, oh wait they'd be glad. They'd be happy, to be honest.

I walk towards Mrs. Young's classroom, my English class. I walk past the jocks and the cheerleaders, who laughed when I pass them, them probably thinking about what they did to me, and probably planning something new because people suck that way. I pass my brother, who avoided his eyes when I looked up to him.

If only he knew . . .

Stop it. You don't want him to know. That's why he doesn't care and won't care when you kill yourself.

I look back down and rush a little bit to get to English, but even I felt concerned eyes following me before losing me in the crowd of kids.

He shouldn't care.

He doesn't care.

And it's supposed to be that way.

I walk into room #309 Mrs. Young's room.

I walk towards the back table, being glad we're on normal schedule meaning Union isn't in this class, and thank god for that.

I don't want to see Union right now, and I'd be perfectly fine with never seeing him again. But sadly I know that just isn't going to happen.

I sit in the desk and my partner, Jojo, a small petite girl with nerdy glasses, sat down on her side of the desk, scooting away from me, not wanting to get picked on by bullies.

This is why I don't have a lot of friends.

Again, like last period, I didn't pay much attention. Mrs. Young had her shirt so low that the football jocks were asking to talk to her after class, the damn slut.

I mean seriously, this woman shouldn't be allowed to teach, half my teachers shouldn't be allowed to teach. Especially the Troys' they shouldn't have been allowed in the school and should be in prison, both of them. Raping students . . . it's messed up. Union should be in jail, for, you know what.

And like that, my English class ended in a flash, which leads to my last class, which on normal days like today was my free period. I got up and walked to my locker, putting everything away and grabbing a few books and homework. I walk towards the school library.

It was my safe haven for a reason. We didn't have to go to the library, we could chill throughout the school, sometimes cutting into other classes but some teachers didn't allow it.

I always go to the library and some other students simply preferred it's quiet walls as a study place and the best place to spend their free period.

I walk through the double-wide doors. Inside was a bright room with yellow painted walls. It had couches, coffee tables, desktop computers that you could sign up to use, borrowable laptops, borrow-able tablets, and of course books, lots and lots of books. Both fiction and non-fictional book's littered the walls of my favorite place and safe haven.

Thank god the library wasn't where detention takes place. It takes place in Mr.Troy's classroom, though I don't know why students will follow him into his little side-office. Some teachers have a small side room attached to there classroom, like a mini bedroom but it was still bigger than my room. Then again a lot of things are bigger than my room.

I walk over to a set of chairs and pulled out my sketch pad, something no one, no one knew about. I pulled out a pack of pencils and pull the darker tinted pencils. I slowly begin to sketch my family. First my mom, then dad, the twins, Chris, Bryan, and in the shadow of them, sitting criss-crossed legs was me, my head down, making me almost unable to recognize the person in the picture as me.

I was shading when the bell rang and my breath ran cold and a shiver ran down my spine.

Detention time.

I put all my stuff back into the bag, before slinging it over my shoulder and slowly walking towards Mr. Troy's room while other kids laughed and chattered like nothing was the matter. Ignorant brats. That's what they are. They don't have any idea that a teacher in they're very own school is a rapist, especially the jocks I think they'd be shocked more than some of the others.

I pass Claire in the hallway, and she gives me a shrug of her shoulder as she walks towards the door, knowing what may or may not take place, she knew it couldn't be prevented, thank god she didn't have detention today. She'd probably have it in a couple days because she was a smart-ass to some teachers and some students would describe her as a bitch.

I didn't see that side of her. She was my friend, a girl who simply misunderstood by the other students of my grade and high school.

I see a couple other kids walk into Mr. Troy's room, some with casual faces, others had fear written on there faces, they knew what Mr. Troy could, and might, do.

I sigh as I walk through the doors, no one cares, seeing me that is. I saw a couple kids from the drag, the back of my school where the smokers are, I myself don't smoke but a small friend of mine, Reine, he does. I saw one of our school bad boys drop dead hot kids who scare the living daylight out my peers, but not me. I think that pisses them off. Especially Theo, but I'll get into his story later. The one that's in here right now was Hiro, Hiro Sebastion.

Hiro and I have never really gotten along, not that we ever really needed to. We had to do a project together last year and that ended the same way it started, awkward as fuck. He doesn't like gays and I don't like people who come into my house, smelling like weed, though I know HE doesn't smoke it. He's obviously in a gang or the mafia.

Not that I knew anything about that. Not a thing.

Then I saw a couple cheerleaders and one football player, but thank god it wasn't Union, I couldn't deal with him right now. I go to the very back of the room, the back table and sit down putting my head down. I just had to survive a couple hours and get out as quickly as possible, nothing to it . . . right?

My nightmare walks in with his too-good smile. Mr. Troy. He walks over to his desk in here, before pulling out a clipboard.

"Alexander?"

"Here!"

"Blossin?"

"Here."

"Dakin?"

No response for that one. I hear Mr. Troy sigh but continue.

"Finnson?"

"Here."

"Jospin?"

"HERE!!" How is she so perky at a time like this??

"Miskon?"

"Here . . ." Muttered the small girl sitting at the table in front of mine.

"Night?"

I sigh before saying here. I hear the smirk in his voice.

"Sebastion?" I heard a quiver in Mr. Troy's voice when he asked this one. See everyone was afraid of Hiro, though most people don't even call him by his first name. I honestly couldn't give a shit if I said his first name or not.

I tuned the rest of the last names, no longer caring who was here. I just needed to get out as soon as 4:45 hit the clock.

I pull my sketch pad out, knowing no one cared what I was doing, I saw Hiro pulling his phone out and staring at it in interest. I decided he'd be the perfect model for a picture. I began to sketch the outline of his body, the buff like thing it was, and then his shirt, and then his arms, being sure to add the gang tattoo on his arm, few people have seen, but I notice things like that. I sketch it to match it exactly, before drawing his hair, the weird shade of black it is, it looks almost purple honestly. I sketch his eyes, darkening the pupils because his eyes were nearly black. I sketch the scenery around him, making it look even more realistic. I draw shading and everything. I fold the drawing when I'm done, I flip the paper over, the lined side, and begin to write.

I fold the paper again, before carefully slipping it into his backpack, which was sitting in the chair next to him, him not even paying attention, made it even easier than it would usually be.

I smile on the inside, he'd never guess it's me. He's too caught up in 'Hiro' land to notice small little, well me.

But even I have a gaydar, and this boy is making me feel as though he's gay, which I believe he is, especially since he doesn't date girls here, he says it's simply because he doesn't want to get attached to any of them, but I know better. One, he doesn't want to draw them into the mafia. And two, he doesn't like coconuts, he like's hotdogs, though he wouldn't mention it to me, or anyone for that matter.

I start to sketch Kyle and Luke, based off memory. I draw Kyle's sweet face, draw Luke's stone cold face, except I draw their faces to face each other and I draw the love you see when they look at each other.

I know people say that young love never lasts, but I think it will for these two. Luke's probably too protective and stubborn to let Kyle, the prize he is, go. And Kyle is probably to in-love to leave him.

I knew Luke would always be there for Kyle when I wouldn't be.

I continued to sketch, occasionally looking up at the clock, every 15 or so minutes, or that's what it seemed to be though it felt like seconds to me.

I drew the two of them in front of the mansion Alister owned, they're expensive car off to the side, which I drew based on memory. Though the photo was based on Kyle and Luke you could tell that this was a happy scene. When I finish folding this sketch as well, writing an even smaller note.

I stash this one if my bag, to slip into Kyle's locker when I leave so he will find it on Monday.

I plan one more drawing. One drawing I didn't understand why I drew. I drew Alister.

I drew him in a suit and tie, a mischievous smile on his face, his brown eyes sparkling. His hair was neat and perfect, shining in the lighting I was giving it. I drew his cheekbones and his jawline. I shaded his hair and eyes before nodding my head to agree that it was perfect, before adding detail to the rest of his attire.

His suit is shaded in since it is a grey color, his pants, a darker grey to match the suit, which was almost exactly what he wore when I drove Kyle home that one day.

I drew him standing outside his home, one hand on his hips giving him a nice look and shading.

I smile down at the picture I was drawing, before glancing at the clock. 4:31. Okay, last 15 minutes, might as well finish Alister's sketch, I glance up at Mr. Troy who was writing something down, smiling at himself.

This man pisses me off and scares me.

I look back down at the drawing, before grabbing a different pencil, a lighter one for better shading, going into more detail for this one than the other two.

I give his hair more definite lines, which makes him look even better. Damn, I mean I know he's hotter than fuck but I need to keep my distance from him. He runs the mafia!!! He's a walking, talking version of danger! I don't need that in my life.

But he is hot . . .

I push those thoughts away, folding the paper, before writing a small note on this one, like the other two.

I fold it, planning on putting in Luke's locker so he can give it to his brother, thus why I put ALISTER on the top so Luke gets the message.

I put all my belongings up and look up, 4:43 p.m. I glance at the other students who look ready to bounce, having already messed some of there Friday night, I know the cheerleaders are planning on partying, same with the jock.

I wonder for a slight moment what Hiro's going to do on a Friday night like tonight.

I watch the seconds tick by, and I plan my escape, which Hiro was going to help me with, though it might make him cautious of me, I needed to get out of here without Mr. Troy being involved with me if you know what I mean.

When 4:45 clicks on the clock, everyone gets up, I grab my belongings and rush over to Hiro who had grabbed his backpack, and mutter quiet enough for him to hear, "Which gang tattoo is yours from?" Which seemed to make Hiro stop in place, before he turned to me, his eyes widen slightly when he realized it was me.

His face turns to stone as he grabs my arm and drags me out of the class, ignoring Mr. Troy who seemed shocked and tried to stop him, but Hiro wasn't having it.

Thus how my plan worked.

Now I was stuck with a gang member, who obviously wanted his gang involvement to remain a secret.

He shoved me against a locker, which only hurt because of my father's beating, but I put a small smirk on my lips not even slightly threatened my Hiro.

"How," He hissed out at me, pushing me even harder against the wall of lockers. "Do you know about that?!" He hissed out in what could be interpreted as a threating manner.

"Your tattoo, obviously, so what gang . . . or mafia?" I asked mafia as an afterthought since some mafia people have tattoos.

He sighs, letting me down, I had been dangling since he was taller than me.