Lost Boy

Prologue: Before Him

"Don't waste your time, don't waste your life's purpose worrying about your body. this is your vessel, it's your house, it's where you live. There's no point in judging it."

-Emma Thompson

...

Fawn

I drive until I can't anymore. I drive until the bust-up jeep cries out and beeps, signalling a lack of gas, and the sun begins to rise. I drive until my phone pings, reminding me to wake up for school. Driving used to bring me comfort, but these days it seemed less of a respite from my thoughts and more like procrastination. I wasn't ready to go home yet, and I didn't know if I would ever be.

I pulled up to the parking lot, having my pick of the spaces. I was usually the first one here. I didn't care that I was in the same clothes as yesterday, having worked overtime at the diner my jeans were stained with grease and my shoes were muddy. I didn't care that I hadn't eaten dinner, or breakfast for that matter, I didn't care at all.

Dean and Scarlett waved at me when they entered the classroom twenty minutes later, as I sat munching on the end of my ballpoint pen fiddling with my hair. Scar placed a granola bar on my desk, giving my head a pat and sliding into the seat next to me, with Dean soon following.

"Good morning sunshine." He nudged me, trying to steal a bite of my food but I moved the bar out of his grasp before he could snatch it.

"Piss of D-D-Dean." I groaned. "It's too early f-f-for this and I haven't s-slept."

"I can tell." He chuckled, "You've got those bags under your eyes again." He tried poking at my face but I pushed his hand away, grabbing out my notebooks. "Hey!"

"Don't tell me 'little miss perfect' went for another drive." Scarlett teased, handing me a bottle of water this time. "Don't you think you're doing that a little too often?"

I waved her off. "I know. I'll s-s-stop. Last night was the l-l-l-last time."

"Yeah, yeah." She smirked at Dean. "Haven't heard that before." He nodded in agreement, kissing me on the forehead in mock pity and returning to his seat. The class was about to begin.

I knew my little routine was becoming too much, but the habit had been formed. Recently my sleep schedule had been so scrambled that I was left delirious, utterly restless all the time. At first, I had started walking around the block, hoping to clear my head, but Mom soon worried about me being kidnapped so I took the car instead.

It felt like I didn't know myself anymore, the person I used to be was gone, replaced by this empty void of a person. I didn't know how to act, my limbs felt foreign and my mind was just empty. Empty but restless, like a puzzle missing the final pieces.

It had been almost a year since the incident, and yet the scars felt fresh. My heart still raced each time he walked into the room, and my hands still shook each time I heard his name. The man in question hadn't shown up to class today, thank goodness. I didn't know if I could handle seeing him in my sleep-deprived state, too exhausted to focus let alone deal with Holden. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine just thinking about him.

My friends and family worried about me, and though they tried their best to pretend everything was okay I knew they had noticed the change in me, ever since that night. They knew something awful had happened, they just hadn't got the guts to ask.

In a strange way, I understood. It was hard to question someone like me, a ticking timebomb waiting to implode. I could see Dean thinking about it sometimes, staring at me after one of his games with a faraway look in his eyes. I would see a spark in his eyes, a confidence as he opened his mouth about to ask, but then it would disappear as quickly as it had come.

Scar and Ada looked scared of me, they acted like that night hadn't happened altogether. Guilt, I guess. If it wasn't for them I would never have gone to the stupid party, but I didn't blame them. They had just wanted me to have a good time before finals. So I understood why they couldn't ask what happened, why they couldn't ask about it. They were trying to be good friends. They couldn't have known how badly it would backfire.

I had never been the most confident person myself, and more often than not I had bitten my tongue rather than voicing my thoughts out loud, and since gaining a stutter in the last year my social anxiety was worse than ever before. The stutter had appeared not long after the party, in fact I hadn't spoken at all for the next three days, so the stutter was an improvement.

Dad had sent me to a multitude of shrinks and therapists, then when they couldn't help he tried sending me to speech therapists. Those were the worst of all, each session was torture. I hated the way they analysed me with their gaze, trying to figure out why I was so fucked up, what went wrong in my brain. I was a lost cause, they soon decided, refunding me for my sessions and sending me on my way when they realised my stutter wasn't going anywhere.

I didn't mind it at first, stuttering over long paragraphs. I had never been a big talker, so I barely noticed it when I was muttering to my friends. Dean often did most of the talking, ranting about his next football game or trying to flirt with Ada to no success. I spent most of my time doodling in my sketchpad, listening to their stories. The real issue began when I was at home, where simple tasks such as talking on the phone to Scarlett had left me in tears since I could barely form a sentence, gasping for breath as my mouth betrayed me.

It was infuriating, my body refusing to cooperate. I had a voice, it just didn't want to be heard.

Twelve months later and here we were, two weeks away from graduating. I hadn't bothered applying for colleges, I couldn't get through a single interview with my stutter, and my SAT scores had dropped significantly. Like I said, I was a lost cause. Hopefully I could find a summer job to keep me occupied while my friends moved across the country.

We had made a pact, that after we had all finished our college degrees we would find ourselves back home and get a job working together. It would be tough being apart for several years, especially since I was the only one staying in the area, but the others had promised to return. My only hope was that my stutter would become more manageable by the time they came back. I wondered what jobs we would end up in, who would enjoy college the most. Dean was hoping for a football scholarship several hours away, Scarlett was hoping for a fashion internship in New York and Ada was hoping to study art a few towns over. She would be the closest out of the group, and I hoped we would be able to meet over the summer. I didn't mind driving to her and she could always get the bus back into town, our friendship was bound to-

I was jolted from my thoughts when the door slammed open, and a tall body entering the classroom. My skin turned to ice and I felt my spine go solid, forcing my body into a rigid upright position. Every nerve in my body was shivering, and my teeth began to grind. I hated that he still had such an effect on me, he didn't deserve to be here. He deserved to be rotting in jail, far away from here.

I looked up as he perched on a nearby desk, not a care in the world. He was instantly surrounded by friends, clueless about how awful a human being he was. I had tried to tell the police what happened that night, but no one believed me. It didn't help that I had stuttered over my words, barely able to recall such a traumatic event. My body felt faint, my skin felt sick and I had lost all traces of my pride. No one believed that Holden could do such a horrible thing, especially to me. He was the senator's son after all.

And so I had to endure it. I blocked him out when we passed each other in the hallway. I ignored the feeling of eyes in the back of my head when I was taking my SAT and I turned away from every opportunity to be near him, not showing up to class if he was in my group. I endured it, all the way to graduation. Soon I would be out of this hellhole, away from him and his piercing blue gaze, away from his arrogant little smirks and wandering hands. Away from his demeaning words and taunting presence. Away from him.

I would be free, and yet I felt more trapped than ever.