The Devil from Heaven // Solby

Chapter 13: Sam

         The morning went by almost smoothly, in terms of being picked on by my old bully, along with his new accomplice. It's ironic, really, if you think about it; there was a boy around my age whom I dreamed of a few times. I meet said boy, thinking we could be friends. Then this boy stabs me in the back and joins my bully's crew. I mean, I guess he didn't really stab me in the back. We weren't really friends, so there wasn't much to stab in the first place.
         But still. He made a wound and never came back to heal it. But I guess he didn't need to; I tried to heal it myself. But every time I do he finds another way to cut and cut at it, deepening the wound, making it seem almost impossible to heal. But I feel like it can be healed; I feel like if this wound was going to be healed, if it could be healed, he is the only one that really could heal it. I guess you can't mend a wound if it isn't yours to mend. 

          I had barely arrived at school this morning and Colby, along with Vincent, Dylan and Darin, were beginning their daily dose of torture. These doses came multiple times a day, but I was getting used to it being part of our daily routine. I had honestly thought that there was still hope for Colby and me to be friends, but I guess it isn't really possible. Every day, for the past week, he's been helping Vincent and his goons torture me, and I've been telling myself that he'll stop, that he doesn't mean to hurt me, that he doesn't want to hurt me. But I guess that was just wishful thinking, because every day, for the past week, he's been hurting me. It's like clockwork, really. It's always the same time, in the same place. I would run and hide somewhere, but Vincent's always got someone watching me; I don't know why, but he does, and I'm not sure I want to find out why. 

         It was the third period, and I hadn't run into any members of Vincent's gang since this morning. I just need to get through English and Gym, and then I can finally go home, and escape from my bullies, until tomorrow. 

         I took my regular seat in English, in the back right corner, the one closest to the door. Colby was in my English class and sat near the front.  We had been reading a novel in class. It was based in the 1800s, though I haven't been paying much attention. The teacher was saying that we were going to do a project with a partner-an assigned partner-based on the book, or more specifically, the time the book took place. The assignment was that with our partner we had to write our own story based on the same era. She read a list of names off a piece of paper in her hand. I listened carefully and anxiously for my name as she read each partnered pair, "Melissa and Rose, Kyle and Jordan, Elizabeth and Serenity, Ethan and Clark." 
         The list seemed to go on forever until, finally, she said my name.
         "Sam and Colby." 
         I sat back in my seat when she said this, feeling defeated. It was nothing I hadn't expected, I just really didn't want it to happen. Colby would surely take this opportunity to bully me. And Vincent had told him not to talk to me-what will he do to Colby? Likely nothing, because this is out of Colby's control, but still. It's Vincent, he's the school bully and every student is afraid of him. He even has some of the teachers wrapped around his finger. He never gets caught doing anything, and never gets in trouble. 
         The teacher explained to us what the project was, in further detail, waited for any questions, and got us to meet with our partners. Colby had come over to my desk, rather eagerly, which confused me. He pulled up a chair from one of the desks near mine and sat backwards on it, facing me. "Sam," he began in a somewhat desperate tone. "Sam, you've got to hear me out, okay?" I already knew where this was headed, and I wasn't going to hear it. "Colby, no. I'm sorry, but if you are going to be friends with Vincent, then I will not be friends with you." His face fell slightly when I said this, but he recovered quickly. "Sam, please. Just give me a chance to explain," he said desperately. At that moment everything about him seemed desperate: the look in his eyes, his posture. I wanted to say no, I really did, but I wanted to know what he had to say even more. 
         "Fine," I said. "But not in here, and definitely not now. We can meet somewhere tonight. Just let me know when and where. It may not mean much to you, but if this is just some stupid trick or something to prove yourself to Vincent, I will never forgive you."