Short Stories

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I never thought I befriended him out of pity. But now, as I watch him attempt to form a basic conversation, I’m not quite sure. Something uncomfortable twists in my gut. Maybe I just never wanted to admit it. I go over and save him before he makes an even bigger fool of himself. 

“Hey bud, we’re going to be late for class.” I say, quickly guiding him away from the group of sophomore girls looking scared. 

Conor is an interesting boy. I don’t know all that much about him, besides the fact he is in Foster Care. That much I do know. He came to Pleasantville about three years ago. People used to look at him like a freakshow. With complete and utter disdain. Maybe it was the long, greasy hair. To be fair, his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in months, but I’m not one to judge. Maybe it was his fucked up sense of humor. Conor always found death quite funny. 

Regardless, in Pleasantville, being different was like having a giant red X on your forehead: Freak. 

Trust me, I know what it’s like to be marked as different. I learned early on that in Pleasantville, you either blend in or get crushed. Conor was never one to blend in. 

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I sat impatiently in Statistics class, aimlessly gazing out the window. Ten more minutes and I am out of this hell-hole. 

As the bell rings, I practically run to my locker. However, I can’t get to it due to all the commotion happening in the halls. 

What I saw still haunts my mind. 

Conor was getting absolutely pummeled. Beaten to a pulp, laying in his own blood. He was on the ground, arms curled around his head. Fist and feet slamming into him simultaneously. He wasn’t even fighting back. I shove through and try to stop this, but Mr. Roberts beats me to it. 

“Aaron and Steven, come with me. Now.” His tone left no room for argument. 

I rushed to Conor and helped him up. Most people have dispersed at this point - the fun is over! The weird kid stopped getting the shit beat out of him! I help him up and lead him out the door. There’s a far away look in his eyes - one I have never seen before. He then says something very concerning, scary even. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, the way he said it. With such agony and conviction. Maybe it was the slight smile displayed on his face. 

“They think they can get away with this. They won’t - I’ll make sure of it.”

I know better than to say something, so I just stay quiet. 

That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling - wondering. How many people have hurt Conor? How many times? Are his parents even alive? Why didn’t they want him? Was he going to stay in that god awful group home forever? 

Eventually, way too late into the night (technically morning), I drift to sleep. 

I woke up way too late. Completely missed the bus, so now there was no chance of making it to my first period class today. However, this was the least of my concerns. I turned on my phone to receive this message. 

“Don’t come to school today.” 

No. no no no no. This cannot be happening. I feel the panic creeping in. Everything hurts all over. I stare at the message, hands shaking. 

We were supposed to do this together. He promised. 

Graham’s POV

“We’re done.”

This was a long time coming. I was never good at expressing myself. My feelings. My care for other people. My love. 

I knew you would get sick of my shit sooner than later. My selfishness and your selflessness was the cause of this. You kept seeing the good in me. I don’t know why you do that. I am fucked - broken beyond repair. All I will do is ruin you. 

“About time.”

I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I say half the things I do.

My internal dialogue contains my deepest and most vulnerable thoughts. Thoughts you will never hear. I know you think I don’t care, but that is the furthest thing from true. I care too much, I would rather sabotage everything good in my life than get too close. 

“Glad I now know how you really feel.”

You're the only person that knows about the origins of my scars. The real, raw, ugly truth. You’re the only person that didn’t look at me with disgust when I told you about my addiction. About the awful things I did to my body and mind. You’re the only person to ever be gentle with me. With my thoughts and feelings. You touched me in ways I have never been touched before. Both physically and emotionally. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Why do I ever open my mouth? 

You look so hurt. I did this to you - I am the cause for that look in your eyes. The look of absolute heartbreak. I wish I could tell you this is hurting me as much as it’s hurting you - I just can’t. My throat is closing, I can barely breathe. 

You continue to look at me until you snap back into reality. You tend to do that - get lost in your own head. You don’t say a word. You just turn around and leave. This time I know it’s for good. 

Mae’s POV

“We’re done.” 

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t want to lose you at all, but I am starting to lose myself. Every broken promise I stupidly believed is playing like a record in my head. This moment is becoming unbearable. 

“About time.”

It’s one thing to assume you don’t care about me, but it’s another thing to hear it come out of your mouth. You just stand there - face absolutely blank. 

My stomach begins to churn. All those memories replaying in my head. Did you ever want to be a part of them? Was this some sort of test? To see how long it would take to sleep with me? Did it even mean anything to you? Was I really just another girl to add to your body count?

You’re the first person to be gentle with me. Ever. 

In bed. In life. 

This is so unfair. 

“Glad I now know how you really feel.”

My voice begins to break. I stayed quiet after this. This is what I do best - explode and then shut down. This is why everyone I have ever loved leaves me. I’m too much. I took every interaction we’ve ever had and added meaning to it. The way you would brush my hair out of my face. Tuck it right behind my ear. The way your eyes would light up when I walked into the room. The way I felt the first time we held hands. When we were driving aimlessly around, spilling our deepest secrets. 

I still think about that night. 

“Yeah, me too.”

I feel so stupid. So used. I start to question everything, starting with my worth. Was any of it real?

I stare at you and you stare right back. Unbreaking and careless. It hurts so bad. To know I didn’t mean as much to you as I originally thought. It is at this moment I realize I have been staring silently. 

I have so much left to say, but the words die on my tongue. I give you one last look, and walk out your door before you see the waterfall pool out of my eyes. It hurts so bad because this time, I know I can’t go back.