Life didn't change for Ernest during any of the weeks following the murder. School was just as bad, his grades didn't improve, people still mocked and avoided him...Speaking of avoidance, his mother seemed to have permanently gone into oblivion ever since her son's last transformation, as if she knew exactly what had happened on that fateful night. The tension in the room was now almost unbearable whenever Ernest was around her, and as a result he tried to avoid his mom even more, something which he knew she was most likely thankful for. It wasn't like she wanted him anywhere near her.
The boy was busy scribbling random words and letters on his notebook when all of a sudden he felt more than he saw someone sit next to him. Without even looking to his side he knew who it was.
"How are you?" Dana asked cautiously. She seemed very eager to make conversation with someone. As it turned out, people avoided Dana almost as much as they stayed clear of him. Ernest stole a few glimpses in her direction. She was bent over, her red curls mostly falling down her face, covering part of it. Her clear green eyes seemed extremely worried, her complexion even paler than usual.
"Why does she act as if she was worried about me?" he wondered.
"Why do you care how I'm doing?" he replied a bit aggressively, getting up by the same occasion and snapping his notebook shut.
"I could kill you, don't you know that?! I could fucking kill you. So why are you always after me?!"
Dana shrugged, as if the boy's attitude didn't bother her in the very least.
"Because you're the only nice person I've met so far." Ernest looked back at her, flabbergasted. He was nice?! Was she completely insane?
"I must have imagined things the other time when she...guessed what I was. She probably said some other word I didn't really hear..." He stared at her. Dana, arms behind her back, with her big questioning green eyes; that weird girl who had somehow guessed his secret simply wouldn't leave him alone, and he was starting to wonder if there really was something wrong with her.
"Look, I know we kind of joked and all when you first came here, but I'm not what I seem."
"I know you're not," she responded patiently. "but I still appreciate you. I'm usually pretty good at figuring who I'm going to get along with, and I got that impression the second I saw you." She smiled sweetly at him, but Ernest remained grave.
"Well then I'm sorry, but you were wrong," he concluded before walking away. Dana watched him leave with a mixture of hurt and sadness in her eyes, before sighing and leaving in the opposite direction. All the while she told herself not to be sad and angry. The boy was obviously miserable, and people who were sad tended to be mean, even if they didn't intend to be. The girl decided that she'd simply be patient, and wait for him to realize that she only wished to be his friend.
Suddenly she stopped, a look of consternation spread all across her face. It was quickly replaced by a beaming smile, for the redhead had just figured out how to win Ernest's trust. She just had to organize a little something, that's all.
--
"BEN! GET IT!"
A blond young man with curly hair suddenly bolted into the air, catching the soccer ball being thrown at him with expertise before kicking it back on the field.
"ALRIGHT HETCHSEN!" another one congratulated him. Just at that moment the coach blew the whistle, and a bunch of guys came to slap the blond in the back, congratulating him from preventing the other team from scoring.
Ernest was casually leaned outside the field and against the angle of a wall, watching Ben Hetchsen and his friends steadily. They all seemed so happy, as if winning this meaningless school game was the best thing that could potentially happen to them. Ernest knew very well who the guy who had told Ben to catch the ball was. His name was Eric Flinster. He apparently found it hilarious to trip Ernest and make fun of him with his friends whenever the occasion called for it. The rest of the guys hanging out with them weren't much better. Most of them fitted the jock stereotype: the tall, well-built bastard of a guy who somehow still managed to be super popular despite their lack of kindness and anything resembling a brain. Generally, most of them were exactly that.
Except for Ben. Ben was different. For some reason, seeing Ernest didn't trigger in him any sadistic urges whatsoever, and he'd always grin kindly and greet him whenever he'd cross his way at school. Ben had quite the nice body and participated in a few sports, and yet he wasn't exactly what you could call a jock. He was also a good student, and very kind to most people. Although generally appreciated, he wasn't an icon of popularity. The boy also played the guitar and the piano. Ernest rarely saw Ben due to the fact that the blond was one year older than him, among other things, and that the school was very big. Plus, it's not like they were exactly friends, so they didn't hang out or anything.
Yeah. He was nothing to him, really. Ernest started to walk away, his eyes still lingering in the direction of the field, before eventually forcing himself to walk straight forward. The boy became lost in his thoughts, glazing blankly at the floor and occasionally kicking rocks here and there. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of birds chirping, and the sun would be setting soon. Ernest glanced up, enjoying the soft wind lightly caressing his face, and all the while the boy thought how much he enjoyed daytime, and how he wished the night would never come. Eternal daytime...
"Now wouldn't that be amazing..." he whispered to no one in particular. Suddenly his face slammed against the pavement, a grunt of pain escaping him simultaneously.
"Hello faggot, what are you doing here?" a voice snickered. Ernest remained completely still on the floor. He didn't need to turn around to understand that this was Eric speaking. Quickly enough he heard footsteps and even more idiotic cackles, and at this point he assumed still without looking up that the rest of Eric's gang had now joined him. It was pounding time.
"Awww look how cute she is! Lying there all defenseless! Come on McClain, ain't you gonna man up?" Holden Stern, and yet another addition to this blooming group of intellectuals.
"I think he'd rather go up a man, if you know what I mean!" Shawn Conroy added, snorting as he laughed. With his cap turned backwards and his pig-like nose, puny eyes, and acne covered face you'd think Shawn wouldn't have much to say, but as it turns out people often bully those who are superior to them, probably due to some sort of inferiority (or superiority) complex and the desire to make everyone's lives as shitty and pointless as theirs, if not more.
"With what dick would he do that?" Eric sneered. Ernest tried to get up without much conviction, but Eric kicked him violently in the ribs, making the boy cry out in pain. Finding this scene to be hilarious, the rest of the guys burst out laughing.
"Don't hold your ribs Ern, cover your face, it's the most fragile, cover your face...and try to think of something else until they go away," he told himself, shutting his eyes tightly.
"Oh my god guys look at the little pussy! He's trying to cover his pretty face!" Shawn remarked, before bending down and grabbing Ernest's arms. Following that he tried to cling them away from Ernest's head. He eventually succeeded and took the first chance at seeing Ernest's exposed face to head butt him with all his strength, causing the latter to scream and almost fall back down, covering his bloody, broken nose.
"Oops! Looks like there's a booboo," Holden remarked.
"Oh please guys, that's nothing...compared to this." And after pronouncing these legendary words, Eric punched Ernest square in the stomach. The boy with the grey eyes tittered back a few steps, breathless and now clutching his stomach, a few tears trickling down his cheeks against his will. Some of them would mix with the blood coming out of his nose, and this disgusting cocktail would fall down all the way to his mouth, granting him with a distasteful taste quite similar to licking salted iron. In reality, the boy didn't see much through the haze of pain, combined with his sticky hair falling before his eyes, and of course, all the tears. This time, he tried to run away, but with his shortness of breath combined with the unfortunate fact that his tormentors were much better runners than he was, he didn't get very far.
Shawn had been the one to catch him, and both Holden and he were immobilizing the poor struggling teen, who did everything he could to try to escape, but unfortunately to no avail. Fright could be seen in Ernest's clear eyes as he gazed in Eric's direction. The chief of the pack was busy rubbing his square chin, his dark eyes filled with malevolence.
"Hey dudes...I think I know what we can do."
"What?" Holden inquired. But his leader chose not to immediately reply, and instead walked in Ernest's direction, stopping only when he was a few centimeters away from him.
"How can you even live with your ugly ass self? You know, if you owed up to being a queer, maybe I wouldn't mess with you so much. Well actually maybe I would, it's not like anyone gives a shit about what happens to you anyway. Since no one cares if you live or die, why should I let your presence piss me off?" Following his speech, the jock eyed his prey slowly up and down, taking his time on what course of action was to be taken next.
"Guys, let's face it, there's no way this little shit has any balls, right?"
"Hell no he doesn't," Shawn added, nodding vigorously.
"Then how bout' we check for ourselves?" The idiots all looked at Eric with baffled eyes, until their faces became masks of laughter and anticipated cruelty once they understood what was expected of them. Once again Ernest tried to escape, and once again the boy was caught by the back of his dark blue shirt; half strangling while trying to immobilize him, Holden eventually managed to immobilize the poor boy's arms whilst the two others were busy trying to rip his clothes off. The shirt was already partly torn off, and the two were just beginning to take care of the pants when a voice ordering them to stop erupted. The three boys looked behind them, startled at the sound of the person's voice and footsteps.
Ernest, half unconscious with his eyes shut tightly, vaguely wondered why his tormentors seemed to have stopped when he heard a familiar voice start hollering after them.
"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!"
"Dude...chill! We were just fooling around—"
"Fooling around?! Are you kidding me?! You're fucking torturing him! Don't you have better shit to do with your lives?!" Despite him barely even being able to think, let alone see his surroundings, Ernest's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice of the person (could it be?) taking his defense.
"Ben, calm down dude. I mean it's just McClain," Eric voiced, feeling a bit startled by how furious his pal seemed to be, and truthfully, despite the fact that Eric and his gang were largely sufficient to pound the hell out of Ben as well, the three were left deeply uncomfortable by how angered he seemed to be. The blond's eyes were blazing, his teeth gritting, with a few stranded locks of hair falling before his chestnut eyes. Ben might have been a bit smaller than Eric, he was still well built and pretty damn impressive, especially since he was normally so calm in comparison to his current state. Fists clenched, he walked a few steps closer until his face was almost touching the chief of the bullies.
"I don't give a shit who it is. Treating someone like that isn't right, I mean look at him! Hell, I would never treat a fucking animal like that, let alone a person. He's pissing blood everywhere!" He cast a glance in Ernest's direction, his outraged gaze briefly softening at what a pitiful sight the other boy was. Half of his left shoulder was uncovered, his shirt being partly ripped and having been pulled down, enlarged to an incredible degree. His jeans were open, although they hadn't been pulled down yet, but of course the most impressive of it all was the now drying blood flowing from his nose and now decorating his lips and chin in thinning cascades. There was now some dried blood on the shirt as well, but it was hard to tell, because Ernest, ashamed beyond words, was trying to curl up into a ball in an attempt to shield himself from the world, and from Ben's eyes as well preferably.
"He saw me..."
At the same time the teen was trying to arrange his clothing, and there was now blood on his forearm as well, as he tried to gently rub it off of his face, carefully trying to avoid his broken nose.
"Why did he have to see..?"
Misery could be read all across his features, his eyes filled with tears mainly due to pain, but they weren't the most impressive. It was mostly the deep sorrow in his eyes, a loneliness which wasn't from just now and due to the beating, but more to the use of being treated this way; the knowledge that it would never change and the ignorance that the world could bring anything but torment, those were the things which best qualified the grey-eyed boy's gaze.
Ben glared daringly one last time at the other boys before determinedly making his way to the victim of so much hate and kneeling beside him. Holden and Shawn glimpsed at Eric with anticipation, awaiting to see what he'd decide was the best thing to in this situation. The jock shrugged before giving them a quick nod signifying that it was time for them to go. The pack quickly left after its leader, occasionally looking back at Ben with curiosity as they walked away, but the blond was completely ignoring them, dedicating his full attention to the injured Ernest.
"Are you okay?" He asked while gently laying his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I'm fine," Ernest responded; he hastily tried wiping off the blood from his face and attempted to get up, only to fall back dizzily. Pain exploded through his senses and he moaned loudly as his arm accidentally came in contact with his broken nose. It was like he could hear his bones howling in agony. This time Ben rested both of his hands on Ernest's shoulders, trying to steady him and hushing him gently at the same time.
"It's okay—well actually, it isn't," he corrected. "not after what these bastards did. I can't believe I ever even speak to them!" he exclaimed. "Well that certainly won't happen anymore." He was somberly looking to the side, seemingly wondering how the human race could possibly reach such a level of savagery. Following that his gaze softened as he looked back straight into the grey eyes anxiously scrutinizing him. "Ernest I'm so sorry. If I had known...I mean I knew they were assholes towards you, but this—"
"It's okay," he cut him off, finally managing to stand up, despite obviously having trouble keeping his balance. His hands kept coming back to his face, his palms opening and closing in thin air, desperately wanting to grab a hold of his aching nose, but full well knowing that this would only result in even greater suffering. "I can take care of myself."
"Why did I say something so retarded?"
"You should go see a doctor," the blond advised. He only got a stern look in return.
"I doubt my mom would bring me, and I don't have any money to pay for it," Ernest murmured. There was a moment of awkward silent, with Ben mentally cursing himself for lacking so much tact. Eventually realizing that he had to add something to catch up for his mistake, he chose to speak up again.
"Well then I'll bring you to the school nurse," he decided. "Maybe she can do something about your nose."
"No, no really it's fine. I mean...you don't have to—"
"I know," Ben interrupted. "but I want to. I mean, it's the least I can do. I'm not just gonna leave you like this."
"It's okay, really, I'll just go home and arrange it over there." Ben frowned, staring at him like he was crazy.
"No way are you doing that. Plus, for all we know, the bastards might have decided to ambush you on your way back. Besides, you can't go back in this state." He kindly smiled, and it was such a beaming smile, such a generous grin that Ernest felt his eyes briefly fill themselves with tears; rather than letting it all go, the boy shook his head, eventually managing to hold it all in.
"Let me just bring you to the nursery," Ben insisted. "After that you can do whatever you want."
"Thank you." He mouthed those words so suddenly, and with so much gratitude, that it caught the both of them completely off guard. Despite Ernest's stoic features, his voice had spoken for him, confessing his entire life in merely these two words, and somehow, Ben understood that. For a few seconds the two boys did nothing but gaze steadily at each other.
"His eyes are gray...I never noticed." This thought made Ben snap out of the moment, although he felt a bit troubled by what had just happened. For the first time, he began to realize just how much what he'd done might mean to the other teen. The two had shared a silent, deep moment, one which left both of them confused and, although they didn't consciously realize it, part of them had understood at that moment that their lives were sealed by what had happened, and that they would never forget it. Their fates had now crossed, and it was too late to turn back.
Ben grinned once more at his injured companion, before proposing that he lean on him, if he felt the need to. Ernest's eyes widened. The boy looked deeply disturbed at the idea of being supported by him, something which left Ben rather perplex.
"You sure you don't want me to help you?"
"No thank you, that's fine," Ernest murmured, grabbing a hold of his right arm, the one with the partly torn sleeve. Slowly they made their way in direction of the school. Occasionally Ernest would glance at the surrounding woods and the trees. Ben, still pleasant, would leave a comment here and there about random things, merely in an attempt to help him take his mind off of what had happened. Ernest did smile, something which was extremely rare for him, and tried to answer from time to time, despite the fact that talking was what he felt the least like doing.
"Here I am, with a broken nose, after having gotten the shit beaten out of myself, and I'm talking to Ben Hetchsen. Life really is ironic," he told himself.
"You're bleeding."
"Huh?" Ernest looked up, startled. They were now at the foot of the slope leading to the school, which was basically a gray, unappealing building a bit reminiscent of a jail, only prettier perhaps. The bars at the entrance gate certainly didn't help to make the surroundings more sympathetic to students, not that school ever was anyhow. Norton High School supposedly had the reputation of being a quiet, rather small community, and yet God knew the number of abuses committed within its walls...or outside of them, for that matter. But in a way, it wasn't surprising. The village in which the two boys lived held many secrets, as did most small towns, and encouraged forgetting about unpleasant events rather than investigating them. Like a neglected, lonely boy being beaten by his classmates, for example. One story which did occasionally make its way in the mouths of the townspeople was the legend of the beast. It killed often, and most unexplained tragedies were explained by the legend of this monstrous creature, a bit like the Gevodan monster, which hunted for human preys solely within the village and lived deep within the woods surrounding it. Many had been in search of that beast, whilst others denied its very existent. Others chose not to even talk about it. Considering that Ernest had no one to talk to, the whole thing wasn't much of an issue to him, and although he had often thought of turning himself in and getting killed, thus ending the tragedy of his monthly transformations, the boy thought no one would believe him anyway; besides, rare are the people who truly want to die, especially shot, which was generally the fate of captured beasts.
"What did you say?"
"Your bleeding seems to be getting worse," Ben explicated. He then took a step forward, grabbing the edge of his shirt and approaching it towards Ernest's face.
"Wait—I'll try to get rid of some of it. Don't move so I don't get to touch your nose." Ernest stood there, petrified at their proximity.
"I should have said no, but why is he doing this?"
The blond delicately started wiping as much blood as he could from Ernest's face, being careful not to touch the fractured nose as he did so. He frowned, focused on his work, before making a disappointed face.
"Meh, not going too well. Come on, let's just go to the nurse, she'll probably give you cotton to clog it. I wish I had something to give you in the meantime, but ya know, I didn't exactly carry cotton thinking something like this would happen," he joked, resting an arm around Ernest's shoulders in a sympathetic, comradeship fashion; following that the two made their way to the school entrance. The bell rang as they reached the top, and most students could be seen walking –if not running- for their lives out of the dreaded building which had become their daily prison. Ben and Ernest patiently waited for the flow of students to tone down a bit before entering.
"Sorry, s'cuse me, he's got a broken nose, bringing him to the nurse—"
"Doesn't the sight of blood disgust you? I mean, I'm surprised you didn't mind...with your shirt and stuff..." Ernest began as they made their way through the hallways.
"Nah, I'm used to it, don't worry. I often have to take care of myself too if something happens. Plus it's just blood, I mean, we all have some in our systems." He concluded his sentence by shrugging, before turning left and pushing the door of the nursery open. Ernest followed him in, eyes locked on the floor, abashed that he was to be there. Hearing the footsteps of the nurse coming in his direction, he looked up before slightly smiling. He actually liked Ms. Pemfrey. She was an adorable woman in her mid-thirties, timid at first but deeply considerate of others.
"I brought you an injured, Miss," Ben simply stated. Apparently, he had some sympathy for the nurse as well.
"What have we got here? Oh God, a broken nose isn't it? Come here my love," she gently led Ernest to the far left corner of the room. The boy sat down on the red couch intended for all high school patients, and waited as she started looking through her materials. Eventually she brought back some cotton, which she told him to put in his nose to clog the blood flow, as well as a pack of ice.
"Hold it against your nose for fifteen minutes. Try to do that at home a bunch of times during the day. Unfortunately, there's not much I can do for you here, you'd be better off seeing a doctor." Ernest nodded, remaining silent and not bothering to explain to her what he had previously told Ben, which was that his mother wouldn't give a flying fuck that his nose was broken and would most likely never pay to get it fixed.
"Here's some Tylenol, I hope you get better."
"Thank you." Ernest then got up, surprised to see that Ben had been waiting for him.
"I thought you said you'd just bring me to the nursery."
"I know, but you haven't left yet now, have you?"
Ernest couldn't help but grin at the remark.
"True." After this Ben left the room. Ernest was about to join him, when the nurse looked up from the notebook she was writing in.
"Ernest McClain, is that right?"
"Yeah."
"Are you often bullied?" The woman questioned, leaving the boy dumbfounded.
"Uhm...well I..."
"You should tell someone about this." She gave him an empathetic, half-smile. "After all, I'm just the nurse. There's nothing I can do....except heal you when you come here." Ernest looked back at her for a moment, before responding.
"I know."
"Take care, Ernest."
"Thank you Ma'am, I will." He then exited the room. At first he thought the hallways were empty and Ben had already left, so he shrugged without much surprise. It was already very nice that the blond had brought him all the way here, it's not like he was expected to hold onto his hand for the rest of the evening. Ernest found this to be perfectly acceptable and logical behavior, therefore he was even more surprised upon reaching the playground and seeing him lying against a wall, arms crossed.
"Why do you do this Ben?"
His helper stood up as he saw him head in his direction.
"Feeling better?"
"Fairly," Ernest conceded.
"So...where do you live? I know you don't want me to accompany you and stuff, and that's cool, but I was just thinking that if we lived in the same area, we might as well follow the same path just a bit longer." Ernest weighted the option carefully. The last thing he wanted was for Ben to know where he lived—
Werewolf.
...but considering how stubborn he seemed to be, he'd probably insist anyway. Therefore, the dark-haired teen opted for another approach to the problem.
"Sure, but where do you live?"
"You know the old antique boutique?"
"Yeah?"
"Well I live a little further down the pathway leading to the woods, right next to it." Mistaking Ernest's anxious expression, he went on. "Yeah I know, it's in the middle of nowhere."
"I hope I don't kill him...fuck, he doesn't live too far from me!"
"Yeah, I know where that is. My house is in that direction but way further down, though. It's like, up in the hills and shit."
Ben smiled.
"Cool, well let's go then." The walk from the school to Ben's house was of only fifteen minutes or so, mainly because the school itself was a bit isolated from the rest of the village. It was a very nice promenade through the clearing leading there, and the fact that the sun was setting only made it even more appealing to the sight. Ernest glanced at the birds with envy, thinking how lucky they were to be birds and nothing more. They knew their place on this Earth and harmed no one, unlike him.
"This is where I live." Ernest looked up. The house was certainly not what he had expected. Based on what he knew of Ben, his social status and his personality, he'd have expected a modern house, with a nice, loving family, and a very sympathetic environment. Instead he was faced with an old, red little brick-built house isolated from the rest of the town. The only sound resonating from it were the echoes of the television. Ben turned to him, hands in his pockets, a small grin on his face.
"Well, this is it." Somehow, despite his seemingly careless attitude, Ernest could feel the awkwardness of the situation. Ben did not like other people to see his house and to know where he lived, he could tell.
"But why?"
"Our paths end here then," Ernest stated ahead of time, but Ben surprised him greatly with his response.
"Not necessarily." A flicker of hope passed through the dark-haired boy's eyes, only to be very quickly extinguished.
"I mean, we still have school and stuff, right?"
"What the fuck was I expecting, anyway?" he bitterly told himself.
"Yeah, I guess so." The two contemplated each other a few seconds longer, scanning through the events of the day as they did, and perhaps blocking deeper significances to ponder on them later on. Once again, Ben broke it off with a smile, slightly petting Ernest's shoulder.
"See you Ernest."
"Yeah, bye. And thanks."
"No problem." Ernest watched him walk away and enter the house. The wind was softly blowing, and the sky was now darker than before. Briefly, the teen felt a chill run down his spine, until he realized that the night wouldn't be one of killing and destruction. He steadily started strolling away, head down, once again staring at the floor, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Once he was sure that he was far enough from Ben's house and completely alone, Ernest sat down against his favorite tree, one located right next to a rather charming small pond, despite the insects constantly buzzing at the surface. Arms crossed on his pulled up legs, his vision started to blur; he tried to hold it in, as he always did, and to prevent the memories of Eric and his gang from returning to the surface. He managed to think about it all with a certain control, feeling the stinging sensation of tears begin to fade away. He thought he was almost there when a tear more perseverant than the rest managed to escape his left eye, slowly rolling down his cheek. His fingers brushed it away, and he contemplated it with a certain fascination, the freshness of the wind being more persistent against his humid cheek. Then he thought of Ben, and how he'd stood up to these assholes; he thought about how he asked if he was okay and tried to help him out. By this time, Ernest was well in the process of crying, but it wasn't until he remembered thanking Ben that he burst into tears, sobbing inside the warmth of his crossed arms and feeling more miserable than ever.