A Brighter Tomorrow

Stephen woke up around 6 A.M., after a night of tossing and turning. He scratched at the bandage around his thigh, which began to cause a bit of a rash. He hobbled out of bed, his leg still sore, and headed for the bathroom. He went past his mother's bedroom, with her still passed out; now the bottle had fallen to the floor. He couldn't help but shake his head in disgust. He went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water across his face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he looked himself in the eye.

The tired, sagging green eyes that met him in the mirror didn't seem to be his own. They seemed like the eyes of a stranger, meeting him in the dark of night. The ragged mop of black hair atop his head was a mess, and his off white complexion almost startled him. To the right person, he would be considered attractive, but he doubted that. He went through the rest of his morning routine.

After emerging from the bathroom, he went back to his room to dress himself. He threw on some old blue jeans, and once he buttoned them closed, he slips his phone into one pocket and the knife into the other. Then, he pulls out his dad's old Pink Floyd t-shirt from the drawer, and throws that on. He ties up his black Chuck Taylors on his feet, and grabs his backpack. The bus would be pulling up to his house soon.

As he walked out the door, he heard the bus rolling down the street before he saw it. Behold, a yellow horse, and Stephen's hell rode with it. Most of his tormentors rode on that bus, and their merciless jeers would soon assault his ears. The doors of the bus hissed as they opened, and Stephen climbed onto the bus. The driver, as he did every morning, silently nodded to Stephen. Stephen nodded back; just another person who ignored his pain.

He tried to get to the back of the bus without incident, but as usual, an oversized hand swatted the back of his head, followed by another. He continued back, and what he later discovered to be a banana peel smacked him in the back of the head. These blows were accompanied by a shout of "Hey, Steve-O! Did ya tell Dad I said hi?" Everyone on the bus laughed, except for one.

A young lady's voice rang out, "Hey, a*****e!" Every head on the bus turned to the second row from the front, where a blonde head of hair stuck out over the seat. The face beneath it was a pretty one, with striking blue eyes and a smattering of freckles. She had a small little nose, which was, for whatever reason, humorously red. But that didn't take away from the stern sound of her voice. "Yeah, you, a*****e! Leave him alone before I tell your girlfriend how much of a dick you are."

The bully, in a track suit and running shoes, sat with his jaw hanging freely. He took a moment before he closed his mouth. He didn't utter another word as he sank down in his seat, and the whole bus suddenly silent. The bus driver admired the girl's handiwork in the rear-view mirror of the bus.

Stephen peeked his head up over the seat ahead of him to meet his rescuer's eyes. She looked over to him and shouted over "You alright there, kid?" He voraciously nodded in reply, somewhat shocked that anyone would help him. "Good," she said, and sat back in her seat. A hushed whisper took over the bus, the kids bewildered at what had just happened.

The bus finally arrived at school, and everyone was getting off. As always, Stephen was the last one to get off, and he was especially slow today, as he had to limp off. But unlike usual, someone was waiting for him as he did.

There was the girl that has stood up for him. She wore a blue, short sleeved blouse and a pair of black skinny jeans. Her black Chuck Taylors were the same as Stephen's, but she somehow wore them better. She had a really loud voice for such a small girl. She was a few inches shorter than Stephen, and he wasn't all that tall himself. But she stood with a tall confidence, one Stephen could not claim to have. With just one look at her, he could tell that she was something else.

"Pink Floyd, huh?" She grunted, in a very sarcastic, but also feminine way, "Whatever. From looking at ya, I would've pegged you as more of a Green Day kind of guy."

He let out a bit of a laugh, the first in a long while, and looked her up and down. As he met her eyes, he said "Yeah, my dad got me into them. He always told me I was more than another brick in the wall." Stephen was kind of surprised with himself at this point; he never talked to anybody; let alone about his dad. Something about this girl made him comfortable.

She giggled, and told him "Gee, that sounds like something my grandpa would say. He'd always say stuff like that..." She drifted off for a moment, but then snapped back to herself. She threw out her hand, saying "Anyhow, I'm Brittany. Call me Britt if you want."

He took a hold of her hand, shook it, and introduced himself, "Stephen. Call me Stephen if you like." She laughed, and he grinned at his shoes. He looked back up, and observed "I don't think I've seen you around before, Britt."

"That's because you haven't," she said, a wry smirk plastered across her face, "I'm new to the neighborhood. Care to show me to class? I'm pretty sure we'll be in all the same ones"

He blushed then, and started to rub his thumb against the first knuckle of his index finger; a bit of a tick. Swallowing hard, he said "Sure, let's go."

She grabbed his hand, and looked up at him. She gave him a wink, and said "Lead the way, Steve."

Stephen stopped feeling the pain, then; both in his leg and in his heart. He felt something very different. Instead of his heart slowly beating, sick of it all, his chest pounded, practically exploding from the effort. His blood coursed quickly and powerfully, and he wasn't thinking about home, or Dad, or the bullies. He could only think of Britt; his new and only friend.

He gave her hand a squeeze, and started towards the school building.

---

Turns out, they did have all of their classes together. As Britt ran through the schedule, Stephen showed her the nooks and crannies of the school as they went along. They sat next to each other in every class, and no one even gave them a word of hassle. Apparently, news travels fast about the new girl in school.

Before they knew it, the 2:30 bell rang, and the day was over. They walked out of last period English class, talking the whole way out of the building. Like the Red Sea, crowds of students practically parted ahead of them.

They climbed into the back of the bus together, without any hassle, and sat down in the same row. She took the window seat, and he the aisle, on the left side of the bus. They kept chatting as the bus pulled away.

"So Britt," he started his question, "why'd you move into the neighborhood?" He would've asked that sooner, but the opportunity never came up. Any conversation was good conversation with her, so he didn't care.

The grin that had been on Britt's face all day suddenly disappeared. She looked at him and said, "The same reason why you had to limp off of the bus today."

He seemed taken aback, and didn't know how to respond. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Steve. I can spot a cutter a mile away." She lightly placed her hand against his thigh, and they both heard the bandage scratch against the denim of his jeans. "I had to move because people did the same thing to me that they did to you. They taunted me, hit me, touched me in places I didn't want to be touched. They made me feel like a useless piece of s**t. They made me hurt myself, more than they would ever hurt me." She reached across her body, then, and rolled up the sleeve on her right arm. The upper part of her arm was covered in scars; some short, some longer, and some that went all the way around her skinny little arm.

"I used to let people do that to me, Steve. Now I don't, because I realize how ridiculous that is. The only one who can hurt me is myself, because I let others hurt me," she started to tear up then. Choking back a bit of a sob, she said "and I don't let them anymore. Now, I don't let them do it to anyone else, either. So I don't want them to do it to you, Steve."

Stephen reached up and rolled down her sleeve, as he caught himself staring. He wiped her eyes with the back of his hand, and put his arm around her. As the tears rolled his face, he said "I get it, Britt. I'm... I'm sorry. Thank you... I ..."

His voice cracked then, and he had to swallow to gather himself again. He held her even tighter, and proclaimed "If you won't do it anymore, then I won't do it either." She looked up at him, her head on his shoulder now.

"Promise me?" she asked

"Promise." he answered, and kissed her on the head.

They rode the rest of the way home silent, holding each other in their arms.

Author's Note

Tried to keep it, realistic, relatable, readable, and helpful. If you're struggling with something like this, I encourage you to try and find out. People who care do exist. I promise.

Reviews

[despitegreathands]

Geez this story is heavy lol. But really great. Knowing people that have cut, this story makes me wonder what it's like to hide something like cutting. I'm glad it had a happy ending lol. I feel like you should get extra points for not writing about vampires.

[Will]

I'm glad you liked it. This story is a sequel of sorts to another story of mine, titled "I'll Stop... Tomorrow." I encourage you to take a look at that if you liked this one. Thanks for stopping by

[Rita L. Sev]

Will - your ability to bring these characters to life is so impressive! Wonderful metaphors in your descriptions: Behold, a yellow horse, and Stephen's hell rode with it. - brilliant...

So glad that Stephen has someone - and that Britt found her voice. I can relate to letting the bullies have their way, until I found my own big voice...

I would so love to have a classroom full of young writers like you, though I would have very little need to teach... Excellent job!

[Will]

God I loved writing that line. One of my favorite bible passages, so I'm glad you appreciated it. I tried my best to make it relatable. Thank you so much for the praise, Rita. I greatly appreciate it.

[Rita L. Sev]

Not empty praise, Will - earned critique, and respect as a writer. Pen on!

[Will]

Will do! Thanks so much!