Emblem3 Imagines

Keaton

(Self-harming present.)

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School wasn't great, your home life wasn't great, nothing was great. It was bad, all bad. You couldn't take it. Every corner you turned, you were teased and taunted. You were pushed and shoved and if it was possible, not a damn soul would care if it was your last breathing day. If you took your life, it would be peace. It would be quiet without a sound heard over a crackling crowd of close minded, vicious human beings. You were ashamed to call yourself a human being. You would never be able to treat someone the way you were treated. They threw you around like a sack of rotten potatoes that were no use anymore.

You lived in a small town and you were always off to other kids. They didn't like the fact you were your own person. They didn't like different. Different was weird and to be different meant you were an outcast. An outcast was an understatement of what they made you feel. They made you feel alienated and you were that one black sheep in a herd of white sheep that stuck in a huddle. They all stuck together, like the herd. The head was in the schools 'bad-asses'. He made sure your life was a living hell daily. He made sure that you did not leave that day without a mark on your heart slowly separating your soul from your body. He made sure to engrave, mark, cutout, anything permeant enough to be etched as far in your brain that even when your dead, you will remember it.

They all had tattoos after tattoos adding to their evil personas. You would naturally think it'd be the popular kids messing with you but these kids were worse than some big headed macho man. Their face would scrunch in disgust as their caterpillar like eyebrows almost come together as one. They ride their motorcycles in like the badasses they are and move together in a line straight enough to cut evenly through anything. They were as scary as people moving out of their way when they're halfway down the hallway, not even close to them. They were not scared to fight. They were the kind to go to underground fights. They did drugs, maybe even sold them, but by the way they acted, it was clear to see they were on more than just dope and alcohol.

Not everyone in the group was scary or big. One actually always had his eyes on you. He watched without a word as they threw you around like a rag doll. His eyes darkened and his face was only but neutral. You were sure he only looked mad because he never got in on your beatings. Maybe he wanted to kick you so hard your ribs cracked or maybe he wanted to smash your head in the lockers a few times to all but knock some sense in your fucking head; no one would know. He knew though. He knew what his group was about but once you're in, you're in. There was no way of getting out and they all made that pretty clear last time someone tried getting out.

They weren't the only ones to hit you, they made sure to make other kids get on it too. Of course teachers seen it but with how these kids rolled, there was nothing you could possibly do to make it stop.

Your dad was on the verge of killing you, literally. With the beatings at school to coming home to nothing better, your body was soon to give up. He became an alcoholic. He drank and drank his life away, no care in the world. You lived in an old run down house in the ghetto. You were thankful. Not thankful for what he did to you but the fact you had a home. You didn't always eat but you got enough to live. Your mom was diagnosed with cancer and she was on the verge of death herself. She was the only thing keeping you here on earth, you were living for her. You visited her everyday, giving her the love she needed before she returned home to where she belonged. She questioned your bruises but you always came up with the lamest excuses around. You made sure she was somewhat happy by the time you left the hospital. She always asked about your father but you made sure to lie, to keep her going. You would leave with tearer eyes and a broken heart yet again.

You would end up going home to you abusive farther who would blame you for everything. He would beat your already bruised body and he would laugh at your cries but you soon became tolerate. Not tolerate but numb. You became numb to the punches and pushes to the floor. You became bones and flesh, no longer a joyful, happy girl. You existed but you didn't live. You lived in the shadows in the dark corners of life. You felt so alone and unneeded. You weren't needed.

You felt all control of your life slip. It left you behind as everyone else took matters in their own hands. They took everything from you. They stripped you from all human rights and meanings. They did all they could but they forgot one thing; your body itself. They couldn't take you, they couldn't hold you hostage and they couldn't truly control what you did to yourself and you took advantage. It was the only thing you had control of. You cut. You cut and cut deep. Maybe you would cut too deep one day and accidentally take your life. Maybe you could pop those pills patiently waiting in your bathroom cabinet but something was holding you back. Something beside your mother.

You walk shamefully with your head down in the hall, trying to hide within the crowd but if course that would never happen in your life full of bad luck.

"Where you going, waste of space?" They made sure to give you names, to make you hear yet feel how much of a waste of space you are.

He grabs your wrist and brings you to him. He squeezes your freshly done cuts under your thin sweatshirt. He pushes you into the locker and holds your throat. It would surely bruise. Your tiny hands wrap around the monsters in an attempt for him to get away and let you go.

"Nowhere," you gasp as you learned before to always answer when being talked to. Your wrist hurt and you already knew they were going to bleed through your wrap. You move in his hold and his hold slowly hardens.

"Don't try hiding from me," he squeezes you throat harder.

"I-I won't," you gasp out in agony. Your eyes move around and they land on the kid that always watches. His face is once again neutral but his eyes are squinted. He face twist in an expression you couldn't explain. The boy slams your body into the locker and starts yelling.

"When I fucking talk to you, listen," he slams you again and your breath is pulled from your lungs. He throws you on the ground and kicks you in the ribs.

You lay on the ground try to catch your breath as tears engulf your eyes. You sit up and bang your head back on the locker feeling all kinds of pain developing through your body. Sobs soon rack your body as you realize just how much you wanted everything to end, for your life to end. More tears rush down your cheek as you thought of ways for it all to end.

You didn't realize but as the group left when the bell rang, one stayed behind. His heart ached as he watched sobs rack aching slow through your body. He watched as you banged your head on the locker as tears gushed out of your eyes like the first rain of spring. He watched as bruises slowly form on your neck and he watched as you completely fell apart. He had enough and he was done watching you go through torture.

He rushes to you and wraps his arms tightly around your quivering body. He holds you like you were the only thing alive on this earth.

"Sh. You don't need to cry anymore," you didn't care that someone was holding you, you needed it. You knew who it was and you sob quietly in his chest. Maybe he didn't want to crack your ribs or bash your head in but he wanted to fix your heavy heart and your broken mind. He was going to save you and he did. He got you out and he was like an angel from above. He was your sign, your sign to stay alive. He was what you've always needed, what you always wanted. He was your angel, your savior.

--------------------This kinda sucked but request please. REQUEST REQUEST