Demons Are A Guy's Best Friend

Chapter 1

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Rhett's phone vibrates on his bedside table signifying the need to wake up and go to school. He reluctantly gets out of bed and goes about his daily routine: take his meds, shower, get dressed, brush his teeth, wonder what he's still doing here, eat breakfast, head to the bus stop, think about death, get on the bus, put in his earbuds to block out the hurt, get to school, and try to survive another day without relapsing. Rhett's barely at the third step and the thoughts are already coming through. No one needs you. You'll never have friends, you freak. You're a failure. You'll never be good enough. Just end everyone else's misery already. Rhett shakes his head in an attempt to get the voices to stop. As always, it doesn't work. The only thing to do now is turn up the music until it drowns them out, but sometimes even that's not enough. God, he hates his life. It's a never ending cycle of predictable sadness.

Rhett gets to the bus stop and as usual, everyone there is in their groups talking. He hears his name being whispered occasionally and puts his earbuds in to drown it out. After selecting a playlist, consisting mostly of "emo" bands, he puts his phone in his hoodie's pocket. He then notices a new figure standing at the stop. It's a girl, about average height, with medium length fiery red hair, and fascinating green eyes. Great, just another person to hate you. Rhett occasionally glances at her, and he notices she's looking at him, almost intrigued. He doesn't know why, though, he's about as interesting as the colour white. He's deathly pale, his bangs constantly hang in front of his eyes blocking his view of the world, his all black wardrobe makes him invisible to most people and his worn-out hoodie doesn't give the best first impression, he always smells like cigarette smoke and alcohol due to his parents, and he has a few piercings and tattoos but even those aren't interesting enough to make someone look at him the way she is. Rhett looks behind him to see if there's anyone else for her to be looking at, but there isn't. Strangely when he turns back around she's gone. Probably already made friends with the populars. But she didn't seem like the type to be in that crowd. What did you expect? Her to like you and be your friend? Don't be stupid! Finally the bus gets here, but when he tries to get on he's shoved out of the way by the massive crowd, and nearly trampled as they all get on the bus before him. Rhett sighs and dusts himself off before getting on the bus and heading to his seat in the back. As he walks down the aisle, everyone moves their stuff, getting as far away from him as possible, acting like he has some disease they don't want to catch. He takes his seat and leans his head against the window trying to focus on the music blaring from his headphones, but then the impossible happens. Just as the bus takes off, someone sits next to him. Rhett looks over and sees the girl from the bus stop. Not knowing what to do, or caring enough to try, he turns back toward the window and ignores her. It's not like she wants anything to do with you anyway.

Throughout the day Rhett continues to be tormented by the mysterious girl, she knocks his books out of his hands, slams his locker door shut when he's getting his stuff, spills his lunch, takes his homework, throws things at him in P.E., shoves him into the populars, etc.. It's finally the end of the day, and Rhett is at his locker getting everything he needs for homework when his locker door slams shut. He looks over to come face to face with the populars. "Hey Ciga-Rhett, why don't you go smoke until you die!" One of them says to him. "Why do you always wear that disgusting, ratty, old hoodie, Rhet-tard, are you a drug dealer or something?" Another asks. "Freak's probably hiding something up his sleeves." A kid jokes. Only it's not a joke to Rhett; he is hiding something. He tries to walk away but one of them grabs the hood his hoodie and pulls him back, choking him a little, "Where do ya think you're goin'? We ain't done talkin' yet!" They shove Rhett into the lockers, causing him to groan in pain. He immediately knows what's coming next. One of the jocks steps forward and punches him in the stomach making him double over on the floor. While Rhett is down they start kicking at him, while he struggles to breathe. When Rhett is too weak to try to get up, one of them rolls him over onto his back and sits on his chest, while one of the girls pins his wrists down, "Let's see what he's hiding under this hoodie of his!" One of them laughs. Rhett starts to struggle against the one pinning his wrists down, resulting in another kick to the stomach. They pull his sleeves down revealing Rhett's cut and burn scars from self harming. The populars laugh, "Wow Rhet-tard, you're dumber than we thought." They yank him up off the ground roughly and push him against the lockers. "You're pathetic, just kill yourself already." They walk away, laughing. Rhett runs down the hall, as best he could after the beating he just took, leaving his stuff behind. As Rhett races home, the need to relapse grows stronger the closer he gets.

Rhett runs into his house, up to his room, and slams the door locking it behind him. He takes his hoodie off and digs through his dresser drawers looking for his box of razors, matches, and lighters. Finally finding his box of destruction, he sits on his bed and takes out a razor and a lighter, unaware of the girl watching him through the window. Rhett takes his lighter and heats up the razor blade before digging it into each of his wrists several times. He watches as blood seeps through the cuts and the edges burn due to the hot metal. Not feeling the relief he craves, he takes his lighter and holds it to his arms letting the flame singe the surrounding skin on top of old scars and burns. As his vision starts to blur he stumbles to the bathroom and turns on the faucet to run water over the fresh marks. Rhett hisses as the hot water runs over the open cuts on his arms, but he ignores the pain and waits for the water to become clear again. He then pours peroxide on the cuts and wraps his forearms in gauze and bandages. He looks at himself in the mirror, he looks dead with his pale skin and sunken in eyes lined in black. Weak. That's what you are. You just relapsed because some rich brats found out your little secret. You're a disgrace to everyone. You weak. Messed up. Freak. Rhett shakes his head as a few tears fall from his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths before leaving the bathroom and going back to his room. Having no energy left, Rhett flops, face first, onto his mattress and falls into a deep sleep.