Caritate

Caritate

Damon sat in Physics copying the teachers writing from the board in his notebook and trying not to let the throbbing pain from his arm distract him from his work. Earlier that morning if you had walked by the bathroom of the high school in the south wing you would have heard nothing but maybe a small whimper. Yes, he had been in that bathroom at that time. Yes, he had been holding back tears from the pain in his chest, but not in his wrist. No, he would not admit that he had an exacto-knife in his hand at the time. No, he would not admit that he had raked the blade across his arm blindly, only mildly aware of the pain before he felt nothing. No he would not admit that he had cut too deep and had to cover his arm with his sweatshirt that was currently in his back pack. He would only admit to the pain he was feeling, but not where it hurt.

He would also not admit that his parents were emotionally and physically abusing him. He would not utter a word, but in his mind, pictures and images would run faster than he could keep up with; one's of his father holding a knife to Damon's neck, or his mother frowning down on him while holding a meat tenderizer in her hand and clutching it so hard that her knuckles turned white. No. He would never tell anyone. He was not willing to pay his crazy parents' price for 'tattling' on them. He only had two more years of school to go until he graduated anyway.

This had been going on for years. His life going by every day in pain and silent agony before he came home and got senselessly beaten by both of his parents. He would never tell anyone any of this. He didn't was CPS to come and pick him up. The last thing he wanted to do was to be pulled out of school in his junior year when it was the most important time of his three years of high school. Most students didn't think that it was, but he knew. He saw what happened to the students who flunked out and had to take summer school. So, having so much stress as such would be horrible for his curriculum.

Having said this, he didn't think he could go through with his senior year as the school freak that got the crap beat out of him every day. Since his freshmen year in high school he had been the school freak. He had been the one that everyone took their problems; verbal and physical, out on. Every day he would come to school and go home with more bruises than when he had started with. He was constantly bruising or breaking things that had already been broken. Sometimes he would be forced to sleep in his car, much to the displeasure of the night watch in his neighborhood, down the street from his own house. During the nights he couldn't sleep he would go down to the coffee shop that a nice woman named Naomi owned and they would chat over a pot of coffee while he did homework. Naomi understood his position and felt concerned for him when he told her about his life at home and at school. All the same he had told her not to tell the cops or call anyone. She had agreed albeit willingly and they had been close friends ever since.

The bell rang; signaling for the students that second period was over. Gathering his things, Damon made his way to APUSH (Advanced Placement United States History) with his backpack half on his back. Shifting his backpack and sliding his arm into the other strap of his back pack, someone in the hall walking towards him smacked into his arm, making him cringe and his eyes water from the pain. At the contact with the other person he felt the cuts on his arm tear open and he knew that he would need to put more gauze on when he got home.

He didn't like this kind of pain. This wasn't the numbing pain of the blade sliding along his arm, this was a dull pain that stayed with him all day and annoyed him to no end. Clutching his arm tightly to him, he made his way to class, sitting in his seat and cradling his hurting arm like it was a baby. The other students around him looked at him like he had just walked out of a sewer covered in brown sludge, but he just glared at the floor. The day was going to be very long and depressing, he could tell. Lady luck just wasn't on his side like most mornings.

During lunch he was, again, in the bathroom stall, with the blade biting into his arm until all his senses were gone but the rush of adrenaline and the cold metal that lay in his hand. During the last three periods he couldn't settle his over bearing thoughts; his PTSD growing out of hand until he had to lay his head down to keep from passing out. The horrible memories of his childhood had run through his head until he felt nauseous and his head throbbed. Now everything was gone, the memories, the pain, the sadness. There was nothing. The pain in his chest from his beat up earlier that day was gone. After APUSH a group of popular people decided to beat the breath from his body in one of the back hallways of the school. To say his life as it stood was a living nightmare would be an understatement.

After he cleaned off the blade with some toilet paper and stuffed it back into his backpack he pressed more toilet paper to his wrist before cleaning up the floor and toilet seat. Once the blood had slowed he wrapped his arm back up in gauze and exited the bathroom silently, swinging his bag onto his back. Walking up to the mirror in the bathrooms Damon looked at his paled form in the mirror. So he might have lost a little too much blood today, it's not something he wasn't used to. Then again, it's not like he was used to cutting this much either. Sure it might have been a reoccurring thing; getting beat up every day by the people at school and at his home, but it's not like he often had it this badly. Today lady luck just hated him as much as anyone else in his life.

"This freaking sucks..." Damon mumbled to himself and turned from the mirror in time to see teen stumble out of the bathroom clear across the bathroom from where he had been, eyes dilated, movements slow and jerky. He was clearly on something serious. Picking up his backpack, Damon walked around the meth head and wrinkled his nose at the stench before exiting the bathroom. He was glad, at least, that he hadn't chose to drug his problems away. "I hate this school..." He mumbled as he moved to sit down at an empty table the color of vomit. Just one more reason to hate the school.

Before Damon could even take out a book to read, he didn't eat much during lunch these days, a large tanned teen threw himself into the chair next to him, facing him and carrying himself like he was in varsity football. Damon was pretty sure he had seen the teen around school in a jersey the day they had games. This was the first time Damon had seen him up close before. Now that the jock was sitting in front of him, Damon didn't want to deal with any of the jerks around school for the rest of the day. Too bad life had other plans. Even when he had cut two times today he wouldn't be able handle life at home if this kept up. The football player grabbed his bag, throwing it across the lunch room to where his friend caught it and dumped his belongings into the compost before throwing his bag across the lunch room where it landed under a random table to be found later.

"How's it sucking loser? Has your daddy given you a daily beating yet?" The football player asked. Damon sighed, getting up and walking away. Before he could get more than five feet away the football player grabbed Damon's collar on his shirt and lifted him off of the ground. Gagging, Damon scrambled looking for any type of leverage he could, so he could relieve the pressure on his wind pipe. The taller teen behind him shook him in the air before turning him around to look him in the eye. "I asked you a question you freak of nature, answer it." He growled, but Damon only grit his teeth together and swung his body so he could kick the other. Before his blow could land the football player threw Damon to the ground, his injured arm landing under him and his rib that had been bruised during his last beat up. He cried out, coughing, a little and not having any time to react before Damon was kicked in the back, sending him rolling again. Then he was dragged to the bathroom and left in the same stall he had been in before, before the taller teen spit on him and left him there to suffer. Damon closed his eyes once he knew the other was gone and began to cry.

When school ended Damon numbly got into his car. He was debating on sleeping in the public park like he had done a few nights ago, but then he remembered he didn't have any clothes. He didn't want people telling him he was a dirty rat too because he already had enough horrible nicknames to last him for forever. His cuts throbbed as he threw his food covered belongings into the back seat of his "rape van", as some of the people in the school liked to remind him, before turning the key in the ignition. A tapping came from the passenger side window and Damon turned nervously to see a boy with blond hair and black tips waving at him through the tinted glass. Pressing a button on his van door he let the window open and watched the teenager lounge on his door. He didn't know the blonde, only saw him in the hallway for the past couple of weeks. Perhaps he was new?

"Mind giving me a ride home? My teacher made me miss the bus." The boy in the window said with a gentle smile he had never seen facing him before. Damon blinked, studying the others honest, golden brown eyes before he frowned.

"Do I know you?" He finally asked. The boy laughed, the noise ringing in Damon's ears pleasantly.

"No, but I know you, your car and the fact that you live down the street where I work." He explained, his fingers tapping on the Grey pleather of Damon's van door. Damon looked at him wearily. "I'm not like one of those jocks who's going to lure you to your death or anything, I just don't want to be late for work and you seem like a decent guy." He continued to explain. Damon barked a laugh. He had to be knew.

"You think I'm a decent guy? What, you haven't heard the stories of me jumping cute guys to satisfy the queer inside me?" He said in a sarcastic tone. The boy blinked, then broke out laughing before grinning at Damon.

"You think I'm cute?" Was all he said and Damon felt a blush creep over the bridge of his nose. His arms covering in goose bumps that made his cuts sting and in turn made him frown.

"Look, you wouldn't want to be caught in the same car as the school freak." He said putting his car in reverse. The boy shocked him by sticking his hands in the car and waving them at his own hand on the gear.

"Hey, don't I get a say?" The teen with honey colored eyes frowned at the offending hand before looking at Damon. "I don't care what the other's think, they pushed me around on the first day I got here, telling me that I was in with the freaks. I'm just lucky I pay for Judo lessons or I would have a few broken ribs." He said and Damon thought about it for a moment before motioning him into the car. The blonde grinned before joining Damon in the car. "Nice hair by the way man, sick colors." He complimented. Damon unconsciously reached up and touched his fluffy auburn hair with two dark blue and black stripes on the left side of his head. He had done it a few days ago and loved the color which was different from his natural black color. It made him less of a freak.

"Thank..." He said lying his hand back on the wheel as he waited for the other to buckle up. "Before I just drive away, what's your name?"

The blonde looked at him once he had finished buckling his seat belt and shoved both of his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. Damon couldn't help but notice the way the teen sat; straight like he knew how to carry himself and with a confidence Damon had never had in his life. Then the blonde grinned and Damon felt the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks dust over his face.

"My name's Talen." The one in question answered, holding out his hand for the other to shake. Damon looked at the hand in front of him and warmth that he hadn't felt for a long time filled him to the brim, almost causing him to choke up before he took Talen's hand and shook it, his hand gripping the others with strength he hadn't known he could have in his arm. Unknowingly to him, Damon had shook hands with Talen using the hand he so preciously kept hidden and had now just put on display for Talen's observant eyes to see. The sudden realization hit him as Talen's eyes drifted down and saw the white bandage tainted with crimson poking out of his sleeve. Damon tried to pull away but Talen was faster, pulling his arm to him and watching Damon cringe back instinctually before the light haired boy gently moved the sleeve of Damon's jacket up and frowned. Damon turned his face away and bit his lip. "What is this?" Talen asked wearily and Damon kept silent.

He had been so careful! He had kept this so hidden, so quiet, that he hadn't thought he would be caught so easily. He had made sure to wear long sleeves even when the blistering heat beat down on him and even locked the door when he was taking a shower. He went to such extremes that he even walked through the less populated hallways during passing period instead of going through the main halls where everyone went. So how could this boy, who he had just met, figure it out in less than a minute of knowing him? Damon's rage inside him flared but he kept his face decidedly blank and continued to bite his lip before opening his mouth slowly and answered him in the most casual voice he could manage.

"Nothing much I guess. My dog decided to attack me and ended up biting up my arm pretty bad." He was surprised at how easily the lie came to him. He didn't lie much, didn't have to lie to anyone but his parents. Somehow he didn't like it. Lying to Talen felt off to him even though he did it to his parents every day and somehow he knew he wasn't going to be doing it again if he ever saw him in the future... Well, at least not very often. Talen stared at him, clearly not believing his faulty story and Damon could only look away and stay quiet.

"Hey." Talen's voice came from next to him, rough, low, and kind. Damon couldn't help but look over. Talen was looking at him with worried eyes. "You know you have people who care about you. Whether you know it or not. I'm not getting sappy here or anything 'cuz that's not my style, but seriously..." Talen let go of his hand to grip his shoulder. "I don't know what's up with your life, I don't know everything about you, but seeing you deal with jerks like that guy from lunch today was not fun." He said and Damon stiffened, his gaze still turned to the side. Talen continued. "Even though he did such a stupid and dangerous thing to you, you still walked down the hallway to your next class like nothing was bothering you. Do you know how many people would be moping and whining because of that?" He asked and Damon shrugged. This little pep talk wasn't going to stop his cutting, not when his PTSD was so bad. Talen seemed to know this and dropped his hand. "Yeah, okay. I'm not going to be able to make you stop cutting that easily, but I might as well try." He said and Damon glanced at him in time to see a blush pat onto his cheeks. Damon smiled and started reversing the car.

"You can try. I can tell you I won't stop now, but... Can't make any promises to someone I just met." He said chuckling to himself quietly. A sudden thought hit him like a ten year old being tackled by a high schooler. 'If Talen's here, maybe life wouldn't be so horrible until I graduate...' And Talen grinned at him before tapping Damon's arm with his fist and tossing his back pack into the back.

"Hey, eyes on the road. I know you think I'm cute but I don't want to be a cute stain on the road." He said and Damon laughed loudly, turning his eyes onto the road. His cuts didn't hurt as much anymore and the ache in his chest had subsided.

'Yeah, things are definitely going to work out...'