Maybe This Could Work...

I was awakened by the beeping sound of my alarm clock, announcing it was time to get up and get ready for school. I rolled in my bed, sighing loudly, turning off the alarm clock. I dragged myself out of bed, having just enough energy to dress myself in some skinny jeans and a Iron Maiden t-shirt and apply the eyeliner. When I looked somewhat presentable, I walked downstairs, to find my dad passed out on the sofa with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He had yet again spent the night drinking. Because of that I could expect a proper beating when I got home from school, that’s what always happened when he drank.
I grabbed my school bag and quietly escaping my home and the drunken man I called my dad behind. The walk from my house to the high school was only 20 minutes long and like usual I was late and had to walk that 20 minute distance within 15 minutes. There were still some people in the hallway when I entered the school and immediately the insults came flying from everywhere.
“Faggot”
“Emo boy”
“Suicidal freak”
It was like that every day. I stumbled to my locker, putting my books inside, then slowly dragged myself to my first lesson; Maths. The teacher asked me why I was late as I made my way to seat right in the back, next to my best friends Gina.
“Dude, why are you late?” Gina asked the same question as Mrs. Jonson.
“I... slept in, I guess” I shrugged, pulling out my note book.
“Yeah, right” smirked Gina, then returned to paying attention to the lesson. Gina was really good at maths and she actually liked the subject, so she didn’t like to be disturbed during the lesson. I, on the other hand, spent most of the time drawing doodles in my note book, that’s what I really did for most of my classes, except in art class, which was my favourite and it so happened that it was on my schedule today.
The day went on as usual. I ignored most of my classes, I spent lunch locked in the men’s room, eating a small sandwich I had bought in the school cafeteria. Then finally came art class. Even though our art teacher Mrs. Turner when on maternal-leave and we would have a different teacher for the rest of the year, I still looked forward to the subject.
I stumbled in to the classroom, taking my regular seat next to the window in the front, making note at the new teacher sitting behind the desk in front if the class. He had red hair, that almost reached his shoulders and he was wearing a simple black button-up shirt, skinny jeans and a loosely tied red tie around his neck. His look was buried deep inside a book, not really paying attention to students coming in to the classroom. As soon as the bell rang, the new teacher put his book down, sitting down on the edge of his desk, taking a good look at all of us.
“Hello everyone. I’m your new art teacher, Mr. Way” he introduced himself, a grin appearing on his face. Everyone stayed quiet, so Mr. Way continued.
“In my class, you may eat, drink, curse, chew or whatever you want. But I want you to be respectful to each other, and help one another” he said. So far Mr. Way appeared as a really cool guy.
“So, for your first task I would like you to draw what you are. And I don’t mean draw yourself in a portrait. I mean, draw you as you are, draw your personality, what makes you unique, what separates you from everyone else, what makes you special” as Mr. Way explained our assignment, I took the time to take a better look at him. He had kind hazel eyes that had a splash of green in them. His lips were perfectly curved and the released an even more perfect voice that sounded so angelical.
“So, grab the supplies you need and start working” finished Mr. Way, his look stopping at me. I quickly looked away, when a light blush swept over my cheeks. I took out my pencil and sketch pad, and started working. I didn’t really draw anything significant, just lines and scribbles, that towards the end kind of started to look like a vampire with tears of blood flowing from his eyes. I was just about to finish, when I felt a figure standing behind me. I looked up, seeing Mr. Way leaning over my shoulder.
“May I see your work... Uhm?” he asked.
“Frank” I told him. He nodded, taking my drawing in to his hands. He looked at it for a second, then handed it back to me.
“Very nicely done, Frank” he said, before leaving to check on other peoples work. After he made his way back to his desk, he picking up his book and giving us all occasional glances. Finally the final bell rang, announcing the end of the day. I packed up my things and just as I was about to leave, Mr. Way called after me.
“Frank, may I speak to you for a moment?”
I turned to face him, walking over to his desk, trying to push the thought of how beautifully his hair framed his face, away.
“Yeah?” I asked, tucking my hands in my pockets.
“If it’s okay with out, I would like to hang your drawing on the board over there” he said, pointing at the pin board on the wall.
“Sure” I shrugged, a small smile appearing on my face. Mr. Way nodded in approval a light smirk running over his face.
“Hey, Frankie, ready to go?” I heard from the door. I turned to see Gina waiting for me. I turned back to Mr. Way, who gave me a gesture, saying that I’m allowed to leave. I smiled, then joined Gina.
We were walking down the street, towards the comic books store. I carried Gina’s school bag, because she had enough trouble dragging around her oxygen tank. I admired her so much! Even though she had lung cancer, she always smiled and she was so full of life every single day.
“So, how’s the new art teacher?” she asked, fixing a lock of her raven black hair behind her ear.
“He’s great!” I exclaimed, smiling unwillingly.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she giggled, as we entered the comic book store. I blushed, but nodded in agreement. We spent most of the day there at the comic store, just talking and reading comics.
“You wanna stay over at my place tonight?” she asked, when we were standing at the cross road, that separated her home and mine.
“I’d loved to, but you know that would just make things worse with my dad” I mumbled, giving her a weak smile.
“You know, one day you’ll have to get away from him” she said, like many times before.
“Just another month and I’ll be 18 and then, trust me, I’m leaving that house” I proclaimed.
“Mhm. Well, see ya tomorrow Iero” she smiled, giving me a tight hug, before going her own way. I sighed, knowing what awaited me at home; a drunken and abusive parent.
I quietly slipped inside the house, hoping my dad would be passed out and I would be able to get to my room without having a split lip or a bruised cheek. But luck was not on my side.
“Where the fuck were you?” he roared from the living room, appearing from it a second later, bottle of alcohol in hand.
“I... I was with... amm.. Gina” I mumbled out, avoiding his piercing look.
“That cancer kid?” he asked, burping like a pig afterwards.
“Please don’t call her that” I said a little loud.
“Or what? What will you do, you little shit?” he hissed at me and before I knew it his firm hand was gripping on to my hair. It hurt so much but I did my best holding back the tears. He pulled even harder, a quiet whimper escaping my lips.
“You can’t do anything” he spat at me, pushing me back in to the closed front door.
“You’re weak. Just like your fucking mother” he whispered in my ear, his voice full of anger and disgust.
“Don’t talk about her like that” I whimpered out through the pain. I knew it was a bad move to talk back, but I couldn’t let him talk like that about my mom. Without another word, his fist flew up to my face, while he still gripped on to my hair. Without any hesitation more of his fist flew to my stomach, filling my entire body, forcing me to crunch down on the floor, taking the fetal position as I received a couple more kicks in my stomach.
“You’re a pathetic little excuse for my son” he growled at me, before returning back to the living room, leaving me crying on the floor. When the pain settled down, I dragged myself up the stairs and in to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I crashed on my bed, whipping away the blood running from my nose and lip, then checked my phone, already having a text from Gina.

GINA (7.23): How bad is it?
Before I answered I whipped away some more blood, and the tears that were still running from my eyes, most definitely smudging my eyeliner.
ME (7.27): I’m okay... Don’t worry
I threw the phone on my pillow, just letting all my emotions run free and through all of it, all I could imagine was that red hair, framing that beautiful pail face that contained those perfect lips, that spoke of art like it was the most amazing thing in the world, when actually that very person was just that. Amazing.
I heard the phone buzz again, and I wanted to leave it alone, just ignore it, but I couldn’t.
GINA (7.32): Frankie, I’m serious, if it’s bad I’m coming over!
ME (7.33): It’s fine GG. I’ll see you tomorrow
She didn’t write back after that. I curled up in my bed, wrapped in blanket while the bright laptop screen shined light upon my beaten face. I even though it was only 9 in the evening I fell in to a deep sleep, hoping that the bruises from the punches and kicks won’t be as painful as usual.

Notes

Hey sweetheart, GirlInTheCoffin here :) hope you like this story, and if you do, you can also check out my other story ;) even if you don't like this, you can check out the other one

In the mean time stay Fabulous :) xo <3