Abused

Andy

Sitting in the waiting room for the hospital about killed me.

Every time a nurse would come through, my arms were attacked by goosebumps. Then the occasional, "We tried everything." Doctor would walk in my direction, but talk to another family. Just seeing the very receptionist about gave me a heart attack.

"You okay?" Another teen asked me.

I turned my head and was nose to nose with beautiful bright blues and familiar jet black hair of an emo. A male emo.

"No. My brother go shot in front of me." I answered.

The boy's pink lips were in a little half circle because of his snakebites yet his lips were still full.

"I'm sorry. I know what that feels like. My twin brother was shot in the thigh."

Funny. So was mine.

"Is he still...alive?" I felt stupid asking the question. "Unfortunately, no. The wound was infected. He didn't take care of it." The boy said. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jeremiah. Your name?" Jeremiah asked.

"I'm Michael." Crap. I gave out my real name. He seems trustworthy.

"So why are you here?" I asked. "My mom's getting her stitches out." He replied

smiling. He looked like a bad boy.

"What happened?"

"Knee replacement."

""Nice. My foster mom got that done two years ago."

"Cool. Age?"

"32, for her. I'm 18."

"So am I. Do you go to Eastwood High?"

And just like that I was having a normal conversation.

I found out that Jeremiah is also a foster kid. He's emo and single. He likes Pierce the Veil, Sleeping with Sirens, and Black Veil Brides. His favorite song is Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides. (Mine is too)

"Hey, you don't think they'll notice if I went back with you, right?" Jeremiah asked after a while.

"No."

"You don't mind?" He asked taking my hand. He looked adorable.

"No." I repeated.

Then I looked in his eyes. He was trying to hide from his Foster Mom.

"How bad does she hit you?" I asked.

"What? Oh. She hits me when she's drunk with my dad's belt when I come home late. She's always drunk. I try to please her, but i just-"

"Make it worse." I said cutting him off.

"I know the feeling. I'm worthless to my parents. I told myself that if my biological parents didn't even want me, why would my foster parents even want me."

Jeremiah interlaced his hand with mine. "Do you have battle scars?" He asked.

"Loads."