we'll be counting >>-s-t-a-r-s-> || (wonder)

t i t u s abel

regrets collect like old friends
here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
and all of the ghouls come out to play

My fingers pressed into my cheek, the inside tender and begging me to stop. But the pain wasn't enough to keep my fingers from probing it, pressing it against my teeth, the impression on the inside matching them perfectly. I tried to play the entire scene out in my head, but my head was still swimming from the adrenaline rush I had gotten. Not from fighting, oh no. I was too weak for that. I was running. Away from the two reasons each day was just as miserable as the next, both with faces like bricks and fists to match. "Where you goin' pretty boy? My teeth clenched. "Why don't ya pucker up and plant one on me?" The laughter that followed made a knot form in my throat, then and now. "Don't even try and say you aren't gay." But I wasn't. The worst part wasn't the names they would call me, the words they used to stab me in the stomach and leave me to die. It was the fact that, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't do anything to stop them.

Anytime I did things like this happened. Suddenly I could taste the blood again, like the accident had just occurred moments ago. "I'm not. You are the one asking for kisses, maybe it's yo-" I hadn't even finished before his hand met the bottom of my chin, and made me bite nearly all the way through my cheek. When the blood spewed, he and his friend only laughed. They laughed, and pushed me down, and ran away, high-fiving each other like what just happened was something to be proud of. I thought about going after them, letting them destroy me, pull me apart until I was too broken to be fixed. I thought about letting them have what they wanted- my blood on their hands. But in the end, like always, I was too weak.

My eyes, colored with the sky, burned into my shoes as I walked, each footstep just as quiet as the next. Who was I kidding, claiming to be sneaky? If I were truly stealthy and elusive enough, those two monsters wouldn't find me every day. Not even if they tried. I would be free from them, free from my foster parents. I had only lived with the half of a year now, no way in hell was I calling them my actual parents. If I called every couple that let me tag along while I was of use, half the district would have to claim me as their own. No, if they really wanted me, if they truly cared, they would keep me regardless. They would never give up, like the countless other homes that did. Six months wasn't nearly enough time to pass judgment on them. Soon, though. Very, very soon.

It was only when the dirt- long worn from the many feet that walked on it, turned to grass that I pulled my chin away from my chest. Tree branches danced in the breeze, as did birds. Long strands of grass- almost taller than me, which was saying something, hid me from the world I walked into it. The places like these that I had found, they were special to me. The ones nobody knew about. The ones where I could think. (Having dyslexia made living in a school full of bullies that much worse.)

These places, where it was just me, and only- shit. Hair like a fox's blew across her face, and she was leaned up against a tree- my tree. Her hand was busy scribbling something down on the notebook that sat in her lap, and even though I was angry she was here, I couldn't deny her beauty. As the first leaves had begun to fall from their homes in the treetops, there were a few sprawled around her, and she bit her bottom lip- colored like cherries and looking oh so delicate, in concentration.

Jordan.

I had been in the same class as her every year since I could remember, but she was always a free spirit, one that refused to break when I was weak, so we never really talked other than when it was completely necessary. After a few seconds of thinking, I realized she hadn't been around much lately. (Or, at all, really.) Maybe, I wasn't supposed to find her here. Maybe she wanted to hide as well. I looked down at myself, my favorite sweater, the blue one, and the khaki pants that everyone in my school was forced to wear hung tightly to me, and my fingers trembled in the constant breeze.

As soon as she met my gaze I felt my face burn with a blush. Why was I blushing? This was my spot, not hers. She was out of place, not me. Yet she looked so perfect where she was. This was exactly where she belonged. I offered a quick wave, and decided to walk over to her. I sat down next to her, nodding and trying to keep myself from staring at her. "Hey Jordan," My voice held more confidence than I realized I possessed. "Haven't seen you around in a while." My words sounded like a question, begged her to tell me why. She and I were never close, we rarely talked, but we always ended up at the same table for lunch. I guessed, somewhere along the way, I had grown used to seeing her laugh and talk with some of the same girls I called my friends. I considered her a friend, even though words were rarely offered to each other, because she was one of those that was nice to me. That meant something, right?