Writing
Stories are a massive part of my life. I have been reading books ever since I can remember. Apparently I didn't need toys to keep me busy, I was just fine with just my imagination. I think that imagination never left me, because whenever I look around myself I spot at least one story immediately. Once in a while I write something down and it ends up as a little draft. On this page you will find all these little drafts that I might use one day to write an actual book.
Missing (Short Story) Part 1 and 2
Part 1
The sun slowly sets behind the window as I enter the study floor of the local library. Leafs from the trees opposite it are released and drift to the ground, covering the pavement with a thin brisk layer of golden brown leafs. A ray of sunlight falls onto a filled bookshelf as I walk past it. The empty table next to it makes my stomach flip. Not long ago the table was always occupied by a somewhat nerdy looking guy, who’d flip furiously through the pages of books, almost as if he was looking for something in specific. I never dared to approach him during those times, not wanting to disturb him in his somewhat frantic search. I only greeted him once, and now that he’s not there anymore, I wish I had more often.
Now, one would say it’s nothing to worry yourself over, he could just be ill today. I don’t even know why I’m worrying in the first place. There is no relation between me and this guy whatsoever, but it still doesn’t sit or feel right. I feel like keeping the table empty, just in case. I’m about to take my usual seat, a few rows left of the window, when they walk in.
Four cops make their way past the tall shelves and are heading straight for the small table by the window. I’m frozen in my step, the books I was previously holding tumbling to the ground. “Everything alright there?” One of them asks as they come closer. “What’s going on?” I ask nervously. “What makes you think there’s something going on?” The cop replies curiously. “How am I supposed to know? There are never cops in the library.” I reply, frowning. “Well, we’re just doing a routine check. Nothing to worry about.” He says, gesturing to his colleagues who are circling the table. “I’ll just…” I start to talk, but the cop isn’t listening anymore. His eyebrows are raised, as if he’s seen something the others have yet to find.
My mind is spinning with curiosity as I sit down. They are definitely not here for a routine check, there’s never any routine check ups in the library. Besides, why are they routine checking that specific table by the window? I slowly look around, two of them still have their focus on the table whilst the others are seemingly making their way through the shelves nearby. I try to focus on the assignment in front of me, but my eyes constantly drift off. An hour passed and the cops are still walking around in the library. ‘He’s not coming.’ is what I almost want to tell them. But I don’t even know if they’re here for him or because of him. He could be missing, but then it doesn’t make sense that they aren’t questioning me, or any other person in the library for that matter. Although, maybe they’re not supposed to ask anyone anything if they’re here for a routine check-up as the cop said.
A few hours pass and the cops have been gone for a while now. The table by the window is still empty, as if everyone respects his place and doesn’t dare to go near it. With one last glance at the window, I make my way to the stairs and head home. To my surprise, I find the cops sitting in their car just outside the library. They don’t seem to recognise me, so I quickly walk past and make my way home.
My mother is sitting at the kitchen table with her iPad in her lap. I’m assuming she’s reading the news, judging by her frown, almost as if the news is personally attacking her. “You’re back early.” She says, not taking her eyes off her lap. “Not really.” I reply, and make my way to my room.
“Haven’t you heard about Mike and Jean from two blocks down?” Her question comes quietly, and her eyes slowly focus as she looks up. “Who are Mike and Jean?” I ask confused. “No, I haven’t heard anything actually.” “They were found dead on the kitchen floor this morning.” She tells me. My mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say and I just stand there. “Apparently they were for quite some time.” She says. “Nobody missed them then?” I ask curiously. “That’s what makes the whole thing so weird. Their kids have been living there the entire time.” She concludes as she holds the iPad out to me. “Read it yourself.” She says as she stands up. I drop my bag onto the floor and sit down at the counter.
Part 2
FAMILY FOUND DEAD is written in big letters on the front page. Mike and Jean Adams have been found dead in their home yesterday night. “Signs show that the couple must have been dead for at least a month.” One of the finders report. After searching the house, the investigators came to the conclusion that during that month the two kids of the couple must have been still living in the house, whilst their parents were dead. Ever since the bodies have been found there has been no sighting of those kids. A large investigation has started since, but after asking around, there was nothing to be found on the kids. It seems like they were never signed up for a school or college, and didn’t participate in any sports related clubs. If it wasn’t for the signs within the house, it would almost seem like they don’t actually exist. However, a journal and planner tell us that they do exist and that they have regular visits to some public places within the city. We are looking for Maggie and Luke Adams. Have you seen either of these children, please contact +31 (0)6 1234 5678 or send an email to [email protected]. Any clue is welcome and needed.
Under the article two photo’s are shown. One of a girl, only a few years younger than I am, with braids hanging over her shoulders. Her blue eyes stare straight into the camera. It looks an awful lot like a school photograph, if it wasn’t for the trees and greenery that lies behind her. I look at the second photo and my breath falters.
The glasses that frame two soft brown eyes look too familiar. I’ve seen fingers tangled in the messy mop of hair countless times. Whenever he’d flipped through an entire book it would almost seem like despair when he grabbed his head with both hands. However the boy on the photo seems younger, happier even. I’ve never seen him smile in the library, always frowning and concentrating on his books. So this is Luke then, I tell myself. I’m almost relieved that I now at least know his name, but then I remember why his photograph is in the news and the relief is washed away immediately.
“Do they know what happened yet?” I ask my mother. “Not that I know of, it’s just this article and the investigation that they’re carrying out now.” I nod. “Where do you think those kids went off to?” I wonder out loud. “I just hope they aren’t in danger to be quite honest. God knows how long they’ve been missing now.” My mother says, closing the refrigerator door. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell her that I’ve been seeing the boy in the library every day for the past year, but decide against it. There’s no additional value to this information here anyway, maybe I’ll tell the cops tomorrow. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
The rest of the evening is quiet, as usual. The only difference today, compared to other days, is that we have the news broadcast on just in case there’s an update on the whole situation. My mother claims it’s important because ‘it might be murderers and we could be next’. When it’s time to go to bed there hasn’t been an update yet and my mother turns the television off with a deep sigh.
I stare at the ceiling, unable to catch sleep. My mind is spinning, going over the multiple different scenarios. Maybe Luke himself is the killer and left his parents to rot on the kitchen floor, or maybe his sister did and he’s protecting her now. It could also be that they came home from school one day to find both their parents gone, too shocked to call the police to report anything and just continued for the time being. There are so many different scenarios, it takes me almost the entire night to finally fall asleep. My alarm clock goes off too quickly after and I almost decide not to get up and to just skip today. Then the news from yesterday comes back to me and I’m wide awake again.
I walk down the stairs to find my mother already dressed and ready for work. “Is there any update on the news?” I ask her, whilst grabbing breakfast. She shakes her head: “Nothing new, please be careful today?”. “Always.” I reply quickly. “Have a good day at work!” I tell her when she stands up to grab her stuff. She nods. After breakfast I get ready and make my way to school. I’m not surprised to find multiple cops around the building, but still wondering why they aren’t talking to people. Even though I’ve never seen Luke nor his sister in school, they must have some friends. I busy my mind with thinking if I’ve ever seen him with someone in the library, but nobody comes to mind. I’m too busy over thinking that I don’t even notice the bell ringing, indicating the end of the school day.
As I’m reaching the entrance of the library, I suddenly hesitate. I shiver runs down my spine and I frown and shake it off as I push the door open. His seat is empty again, however there’s a book on the table now. I look around, but nobody is close enough to the table to have put it there. I vaguely recognise the red binding, but I can’t remember ever reading it myself. With another look around I pull out the chair and sit down. My hands stroke the book cover and my finger traces around the title. The lost souls by James Martin it reads. I frown and slowly open the book to the first page. I hold my breath, but my heart drops when I find a clean page. I don’t even know what I was hoping for. I never even talked to him, so why would he leave me clues. Plus, I don’t even know what happened. He might be a murderer for all I know. Although that idea doesn’t sit right with the image I’ve been building up in my head over the past year.
In the hours that follow I make my way through the first few chapters, still hoping for some sort of clue. The voice in my head starts whispering that the book was just left here by someone else, that it has nothing to do with Luke disappearing at all. I’m almost ready to give up, when I find a small piece of paper in the middle of the eighth chapter. It sits neatly in the crack between two pages, and could easily be missed. My hands shake as I pick it up and try to unfold it.
I hear voices behind me and turn around quickly. It’s the same cop from yesterday, and he seems to recognise me as well. “Back again?” He asks, eyebrows raised. “I’m here a lot of the time, it’s a nice place to work.” I tell him. “I can imagine.” He agrees with me. “Why didn’t you take this spot yesterday?” He then asks me. My heartbeat shoots up, but I try to stay calm. “This spot is usually taken, I thought I’d leave it open for him.” I explain. “Do you know who he is?” The guy asks me. I shake my head. “I didn’t know, until I read the news yesterday.” One of his colleagues calls from the other side of the room, they’re leaving. “Coming!” He replies then turns back to me. “So you don’t know where he and his sister are then?” I shake my head. “I haven’t talked to him ever.”
When the cops have moved on to the next floor I turn back to the piece of paper that I’ve crumpled in my fist. With as much patience as I can handle I peel the paper back into shape. There’s only two words and an address on there. Find me… it reads.
The sun slowly sets behind the window as I enter the study floor of the local library. Leafs from the trees opposite it are released and drift to the ground, covering the pavement with a thin brisk layer of golden brown leafs. A ray of sunlight falls onto a filled bookshelf as I walk past it. The empty table next to it makes my stomach flip. Not long ago the table was always occupied by a somewhat nerdy looking guy, who’d flip furiously through the pages of books, almost as if he was looking for something in specific. I never dared to approach him during those times, not wanting to disturb him in his somewhat frantic search. I only greeted him once, and now that he’s not there anymore, I wish I had more often.
Now, one would say it’s nothing to worry yourself over, he could just be ill today. I don’t even know why I’m worrying in the first place. There is no relation between me and this guy whatsoever, but it still doesn’t sit or feel right. I feel like keeping the table empty, just in case. I’m about to take my usual seat, a few rows left of the window, when they walk in.
Four cops make their way past the tall shelves and are heading straight for the small table by the window. I’m frozen in my step, the books I was previously holding tumbling to the ground. “Everything alright there?” One of them asks as they come closer. “What’s going on?” I ask nervously. “What makes you think there’s something going on?” The cop replies curiously. “How am I supposed to know? There are never cops in the library.” I reply, frowning. “Well, we’re just doing a routine check. Nothing to worry about.” He says, gesturing to his colleagues who are circling the table. “I’ll just…” I start to talk, but the cop isn’t listening anymore. His eyebrows are raised, as if he’s seen something the others have yet to find.
My mind is spinning with curiosity as I sit down. They are definitely not here for a routine check, there’s never any routine check ups in the library. Besides, why are they routine checking that specific table by the window? I slowly look around, two of them still have their focus on the table whilst the others are seemingly making their way through the shelves nearby. I try to focus on the assignment in front of me, but my eyes constantly drift off. An hour passed and the cops are still walking around in the library. ‘He’s not coming.’ is what I almost want to tell them. But I don’t even know if they’re here for him or because of him. He could be missing, but then it doesn’t make sense that they aren’t questioning me, or any other person in the library for that matter. Although, maybe they’re not supposed to ask anyone anything if they’re here for a routine check-up as the cop said.
A few hours pass and the cops have been gone for a while now. The table by the window is still empty, as if everyone respects his place and doesn’t dare to go near it. With one last glance at the window, I make my way to the stairs and head home. To my surprise, I find the cops sitting in their car just outside the library. They don’t seem to recognise me, so I quickly walk past and make my way home.
My mother is sitting at the kitchen table with her iPad in her lap. I’m assuming she’s reading the news, judging by her frown, almost as if the news is personally attacking her. “You’re back early.” She says, not taking her eyes off her lap. “Not really.” I reply, and make my way to my room.
“Haven’t you heard about Mike and Jean from two blocks down?” Her question comes quietly, and her eyes slowly focus as she looks up. “Who are Mike and Jean?” I ask confused. “No, I haven’t heard anything actually.” “They were found dead on the kitchen floor this morning.” She tells me. My mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything to say and I just stand there. “Apparently they were for quite some time.” She says. “Nobody missed them then?” I ask curiously. “That’s what makes the whole thing so weird. Their kids have been living there the entire time.” She concludes as she holds the iPad out to me. “Read it yourself.” She says as she stands up. I drop my bag onto the floor and sit down at the counter.
Part 2
FAMILY FOUND DEAD is written in big letters on the front page. Mike and Jean Adams have been found dead in their home yesterday night. “Signs show that the couple must have been dead for at least a month.” One of the finders report. After searching the house, the investigators came to the conclusion that during that month the two kids of the couple must have been still living in the house, whilst their parents were dead. Ever since the bodies have been found there has been no sighting of those kids. A large investigation has started since, but after asking around, there was nothing to be found on the kids. It seems like they were never signed up for a school or college, and didn’t participate in any sports related clubs. If it wasn’t for the signs within the house, it would almost seem like they don’t actually exist. However, a journal and planner tell us that they do exist and that they have regular visits to some public places within the city. We are looking for Maggie and Luke Adams. Have you seen either of these children, please contact +31 (0)6 1234 5678 or send an email to [email protected]. Any clue is welcome and needed.
Under the article two photo’s are shown. One of a girl, only a few years younger than I am, with braids hanging over her shoulders. Her blue eyes stare straight into the camera. It looks an awful lot like a school photograph, if it wasn’t for the trees and greenery that lies behind her. I look at the second photo and my breath falters.
The glasses that frame two soft brown eyes look too familiar. I’ve seen fingers tangled in the messy mop of hair countless times. Whenever he’d flipped through an entire book it would almost seem like despair when he grabbed his head with both hands. However the boy on the photo seems younger, happier even. I’ve never seen him smile in the library, always frowning and concentrating on his books. So this is Luke then, I tell myself. I’m almost relieved that I now at least know his name, but then I remember why his photograph is in the news and the relief is washed away immediately.
“Do they know what happened yet?” I ask my mother. “Not that I know of, it’s just this article and the investigation that they’re carrying out now.” I nod. “Where do you think those kids went off to?” I wonder out loud. “I just hope they aren’t in danger to be quite honest. God knows how long they’ve been missing now.” My mother says, closing the refrigerator door. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell her that I’ve been seeing the boy in the library every day for the past year, but decide against it. There’s no additional value to this information here anyway, maybe I’ll tell the cops tomorrow. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
The rest of the evening is quiet, as usual. The only difference today, compared to other days, is that we have the news broadcast on just in case there’s an update on the whole situation. My mother claims it’s important because ‘it might be murderers and we could be next’. When it’s time to go to bed there hasn’t been an update yet and my mother turns the television off with a deep sigh.
I stare at the ceiling, unable to catch sleep. My mind is spinning, going over the multiple different scenarios. Maybe Luke himself is the killer and left his parents to rot on the kitchen floor, or maybe his sister did and he’s protecting her now. It could also be that they came home from school one day to find both their parents gone, too shocked to call the police to report anything and just continued for the time being. There are so many different scenarios, it takes me almost the entire night to finally fall asleep. My alarm clock goes off too quickly after and I almost decide not to get up and to just skip today. Then the news from yesterday comes back to me and I’m wide awake again.
I walk down the stairs to find my mother already dressed and ready for work. “Is there any update on the news?” I ask her, whilst grabbing breakfast. She shakes her head: “Nothing new, please be careful today?”. “Always.” I reply quickly. “Have a good day at work!” I tell her when she stands up to grab her stuff. She nods. After breakfast I get ready and make my way to school. I’m not surprised to find multiple cops around the building, but still wondering why they aren’t talking to people. Even though I’ve never seen Luke nor his sister in school, they must have some friends. I busy my mind with thinking if I’ve ever seen him with someone in the library, but nobody comes to mind. I’m too busy over thinking that I don’t even notice the bell ringing, indicating the end of the school day.
As I’m reaching the entrance of the library, I suddenly hesitate. I shiver runs down my spine and I frown and shake it off as I push the door open. His seat is empty again, however there’s a book on the table now. I look around, but nobody is close enough to the table to have put it there. I vaguely recognise the red binding, but I can’t remember ever reading it myself. With another look around I pull out the chair and sit down. My hands stroke the book cover and my finger traces around the title. The lost souls by James Martin it reads. I frown and slowly open the book to the first page. I hold my breath, but my heart drops when I find a clean page. I don’t even know what I was hoping for. I never even talked to him, so why would he leave me clues. Plus, I don’t even know what happened. He might be a murderer for all I know. Although that idea doesn’t sit right with the image I’ve been building up in my head over the past year.
In the hours that follow I make my way through the first few chapters, still hoping for some sort of clue. The voice in my head starts whispering that the book was just left here by someone else, that it has nothing to do with Luke disappearing at all. I’m almost ready to give up, when I find a small piece of paper in the middle of the eighth chapter. It sits neatly in the crack between two pages, and could easily be missed. My hands shake as I pick it up and try to unfold it.
I hear voices behind me and turn around quickly. It’s the same cop from yesterday, and he seems to recognise me as well. “Back again?” He asks, eyebrows raised. “I’m here a lot of the time, it’s a nice place to work.” I tell him. “I can imagine.” He agrees with me. “Why didn’t you take this spot yesterday?” He then asks me. My heartbeat shoots up, but I try to stay calm. “This spot is usually taken, I thought I’d leave it open for him.” I explain. “Do you know who he is?” The guy asks me. I shake my head. “I didn’t know, until I read the news yesterday.” One of his colleagues calls from the other side of the room, they’re leaving. “Coming!” He replies then turns back to me. “So you don’t know where he and his sister are then?” I shake my head. “I haven’t talked to him ever.”
When the cops have moved on to the next floor I turn back to the piece of paper that I’ve crumpled in my fist. With as much patience as I can handle I peel the paper back into shape. There’s only two words and an address on there. Find me… it reads.
Dysfunctional Eyes
Her eyes caught the gleam of sunlight on his glasses, and she turned to stare blindly in his direction. She didn’t say anything, nor did she make a noise, but somehow he felt her staring and he turned his head. “What are you looking at?” He asked her, frowning. “You…” She replied with a smile. He stared back at her and widened his eyes: “Why?” The curiosity in his voice made her smile even wider as she took a step towards him. “Because I like watching you.” She whispered. “You know… if I didn’t know you that well, it’d sound very creepy.” He replied. She giggled as she sat down next to him. “Good thing you actually do know me.” She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed loudly. “I wish you could see what I’m seeing.” He sighed too and then smiled. “I don’t need to. The calming beat of your heart tells me it is beautiful here.” She moved her head and smiled up at him. “It is.”
A few hours later she finally removes her head from his shoulder, and sits up. “Are you ready to go back?” She whispers. He coughs softly and shakes his head. “Not really.” He replies, but sits up anyway. “But I have to eventually, so better face it now.” She smiles at him and stands up, holding out her hand. A few seconds pass before she realises. “Oh, I’m holding my hand out for you.” She giggles as she speaks. He grins with her and feels around the air until he finally meets her fingers. He grabs a hold of her hand and pushes himself off the ground with his other. When he’s on his feet again he sighs. “Can you grab that damned thing for me. I had it next to me when we were sitting down.” He asks frustrated. “Yeah, yeah of course.” She replies, kneeling down. On the floor there is a white cane with red stripes. She grabs it and pushes it into his hand. “There you go.” She then grabs his hand and slowly pushes him forward. “Let’s go.” She whispers. “Wait!” He says. “Can we just, stay here for one more moment?” As he says it it turns into a whisper. She smiles and nods. “Yeah.” She then grabs the glasses and takes them off. “Don’t-“ He starts. She shakes her head and places the glasses in her bag. “You shouldn’t have to hide your eyes. They’re beautiful.” She tells him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He shakes his head and fights back a smile, but fails miserably. She laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You have beautiful eyes, they’re just not very functional.”
A few hours later she finally removes her head from his shoulder, and sits up. “Are you ready to go back?” She whispers. He coughs softly and shakes his head. “Not really.” He replies, but sits up anyway. “But I have to eventually, so better face it now.” She smiles at him and stands up, holding out her hand. A few seconds pass before she realises. “Oh, I’m holding my hand out for you.” She giggles as she speaks. He grins with her and feels around the air until he finally meets her fingers. He grabs a hold of her hand and pushes himself off the ground with his other. When he’s on his feet again he sighs. “Can you grab that damned thing for me. I had it next to me when we were sitting down.” He asks frustrated. “Yeah, yeah of course.” She replies, kneeling down. On the floor there is a white cane with red stripes. She grabs it and pushes it into his hand. “There you go.” She then grabs his hand and slowly pushes him forward. “Let’s go.” She whispers. “Wait!” He says. “Can we just, stay here for one more moment?” As he says it it turns into a whisper. She smiles and nods. “Yeah.” She then grabs the glasses and takes them off. “Don’t-“ He starts. She shakes her head and places the glasses in her bag. “You shouldn’t have to hide your eyes. They’re beautiful.” She tells him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He shakes his head and fights back a smile, but fails miserably. She laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You have beautiful eyes, they’re just not very functional.”
Her eyes caught the gleam of sunlight on his glasses, and she turned to stare blindly in his direction. She didn’t say anything, nor did she make a noise, but somehow he felt her staring and he turned his head. “What are you looking at?” He asked her, frowning. “You…” She replied with a smile. He stared back at her and widened his eyes: “Why?” The curiosity in his voice made her smile even wider as she took a step towards him. “Because I like watching you.” She whispered. “You know… if I didn’t know you that well, it’d sound very creepy.” He replied. She giggled as she sat down next to him. “Good thing you actually do know me.” She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed loudly. “I wish you could see what I’m seeing.” He sighed too and then smiled. “I don’t need to. The calming beat of your heart tells me it is beautiful here.” She moved her head and smiled up at him. “It is.”
A few hours later she finally removes her head from his shoulder, and sits up. “Are you ready to go back?” She whispers. He coughs softly and shakes his head. “Not really.” He replies, but sits up anyway. “But I have to eventually, so better face it now.” She smiles at him and stands up, holding out her hand. A few seconds pass before she realises. “Oh, I’m holding my hand out for you.” She giggles as she speaks. He grins with her and feels around the air until he finally meets her fingers. He grabs a hold of her hand and pushes himself off the ground with his other. When he’s on his feet again he sighs. “Can you grab that damned thing for me. I had it next to me when we were sitting down.” He asks frustrated. “Yeah, yeah of course.” She replies, kneeling down. On the floor there is a white cane with red stripes. She grabs it and pushes it into his hand. “There you go.” She then grabs his hand and slowly pushes him forward. “Let’s go.” She whispers. “Wait!” He says. “Can we just, stay here for one more moment?” As he says it it turns into a whisper. She smiles and nods. “Yeah.” She then grabs the glasses and takes them off. “Don’t-“ He starts. She shakes her head and places the glasses in her bag. “You shouldn’t have to hide your eyes. They’re beautiful.” She tells him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He shakes his head and fights back a smile, but fails miserably. She laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You have beautiful eyes, they’re just not very functional.”
A few hours later she finally removes her head from his shoulder, and sits up. “Are you ready to go back?” She whispers. He coughs softly and shakes his head. “Not really.” He replies, but sits up anyway. “But I have to eventually, so better face it now.” She smiles at him and stands up, holding out her hand. A few seconds pass before she realises. “Oh, I’m holding my hand out for you.” She giggles as she speaks. He grins with her and feels around the air until he finally meets her fingers. He grabs a hold of her hand and pushes himself off the ground with his other. When he’s on his feet again he sighs. “Can you grab that damned thing for me. I had it next to me when we were sitting down.” He asks frustrated. “Yeah, yeah of course.” She replies, kneeling down. On the floor there is a white cane with red stripes. She grabs it and pushes it into his hand. “There you go.” She then grabs his hand and slowly pushes him forward. “Let’s go.” She whispers. “Wait!” He says. “Can we just, stay here for one more moment?” As he says it it turns into a whisper. She smiles and nods. “Yeah.” She then grabs the glasses and takes them off. “Don’t-“ He starts. She shakes her head and places the glasses in her bag. “You shouldn’t have to hide your eyes. They’re beautiful.” She tells him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He shakes his head and fights back a smile, but fails miserably. She laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You have beautiful eyes, they’re just not very functional.”
Everybody walks past a thousand story ideas every day. The good writers are the ones who see five or six of them. Most people don't see any.
- Orson Scott Card
Afraid
“Can’t you smell him?” She whispered, the disgust clear on her face. I nodded absently, sneaking glances at him from across the room. He was huddled over his book, clearly trying to dissolve amongst the classroom. “It’s like he never showers. Maybe he doesn’t have one. Or, maybe he’s just too lazy to care.” Her voice continued, I wasn’t paying attention anymore. She kept on rambling about how disgusting he was and how she didn’t understand how he could live like that. I couldn’t join her in these thought. Every time I looked at him I saw it. The terrible helpless look in his eyes as they pushed him into the lockers again. The gasps between his tears as they leave him, beaten, on the floor. All those images flash before my eyes. She doesn’t understand how he’s feeling. She doesn’t understand that it slowly kills you, from the inside. That it hurts you so deep that you can’t breath, that you can’t see how you’re ever going to be happy. She keeps talking about him and I start shaking my head. In my mind I’ve been standing up, grabbing my books and moving away from her hundreds of times. Somehow my legs don’t seem to help me actually do it. Deep inside I hate the way she talks about him, but I can’t seem to say anything about it. Somewhere in the background the bell rings. Everybody around me packs their things and stand up. I sit there for a moment, until I finally gather enough strength to leave too. I walk past him in the hallway. He’s standing by his locker, with all of his books surrounding his feet. I slow down for a moment, but I see her staring at me. I look down at my feet as I walk past him. She smiles at me as she links her arm with mine. I look behind me, I smile sadly at him, but he doesn’t see. He doesn’t know I care deeply and I’m too afraid of the judgement of others to tell him.