Scars & Broken Glass

Sebastian is bullied, hazed and he has a life no one wants. His life is terrible. Pain is a outlet for him, it....helps, most days. And when it doesn't, then he thinks and thinking is never good.....It leads to regrettable actions.


3. Saviour...Kind of

Savior....kind of;

I grind my teeth and pull my arm from her grip. "You wanna know why? Then maybe you should just wait until next time they beat the life outta me!" I whisper yell. I get up and grab my ice cream. "I'm leaving. Come around tomorrow a few minuets earlier and you'll see what I mean."

She sits their, shocked.

I walk down the street and throw my ice cream out.

Stupid....I was so stupid. I got to comfortable! Gah! Im an-"Sebastian! Wait! Hold up!" She runs up to me. I pull my sleeves down. "What?" I growl.

She puts her ice cream down and takes my wrist in her hands. Slowly she pulls my sleeve up, to my elbow. She runs her hand down my arm, along the rough skin and healed cuts on my arm.

I shiver. Her touch is light as a feather. Soft. Her free hand laces with mine while she slowly reaches for my other arm. She pulls that sleeve up and looks at the scars on that arm, they Kris-cross. Slowly I pull my arms away and tug my sleeves down over my hands again.

My eyes have been averted from her face, I don't wat to see the pity. I hear her sniffle. I glance up slightly, her cheeks are wet. I stand straight and pull her into a hug.

We stand for a moment....until I hear the yell and the running. "FAG! What are you doing with Vonnie? She's my girl. What got into your head you could go around touching her, and even looking at should know better."

I look up at Brent. I pull away from him. "Sorry, I dint know she was....yours...Sorry...I'm sorry, Bre-" He slaps me. My eyes sting and my lip starts to bleed again.

"You should be, bitch. She is my girl, and your my bitch, get it? Now. Get on your knees and beg my forgiveness." He had never made me do anything in public. I look down and my long hair covers my eyes.

Slowly I drop to one knee, then the other. I look at the ground and grind my teeth. I see him lift his foot. I let out my breath and tense up. He gives me a kick to the ribs and I rock back. I'm able to breath but it hurts. "Say it, bitch."

"Brent. Stop. Now. I don't want you hurting him. And I'm not your girl anymore, remember how I walked in on you and Wendy last week? And then Brenda a few weeks ago? Well, I was going to give you a chance but not after this. I don't ever want to see you, hear your voice or name again. Do you understand me? Or are you really that stupid?" I look up and see her facing him, hands on hips. She is......unearthly....she is...amazing....absolutely beautiful.....she is angelic. It even looks as if their is an aura around her.

An Angel has come to my rescue.

"Vonnie, babe, I'm only putting this mutt in his place, he was making you cry, I hate seeing you cry." His eyes soften and he reaches for her face. She jerks away as if he slapped her.

"He wasn't making me cry! It was you! Look!" Before I can react she grabs my arm and pulls my sleeve up, showing my scars.

A gasp goes around the group.

"My God."


"We did this"




And more is said by Brent's posse. Brent just stairs. Then he reaches out a hand and meets my eyes. I nod. He feels my arm. "I.....D-d-d-did you?" He asks and looks shell shocked.

I take my arm away from him and roll my sleeve down. I stand. "Lets discus this somewhere else."

They nod and fallow me down the street to a ancient roller rink. No one ever comes here, except to discus secrets and such.

I take the farthest booth from the entrance. "Can...I....see them again?" Someone asks as we sit. I sigh. It wont harm them to know what they've done. I pull both sleeves up and everyone leans forward in the dark corner to see better, and then I have multiple hands touching my arms. I shutter and they pull back. "No...its ok, you can feel them. Its just weird...I mean, your all guys and stuff..." A nervous laughter floats around.

"Sebastian, can you answer my question?" Brent looks afraid.

I leave my arms on the table. "Yes, Brent, it was you who did this. You are the one who took the knife and sharpened it and took it and pricked my skin, and dragged the blade along my wrist daily, Yes, Brent. It. Was. You."

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