It Started With a Whisper ||Larry Stylinson||

Chapter 1

Drowning.

I felt like I was drowning, like water was clouding my lungs as my head just shied below the surface of the water. It was like it was taunting me. I could see where my freedom was, where I could finally give my lungs the air they needed, but no matter how fast I swam or how hard I pushed, the surface always seemed just out of reach.

I could feel each forceful breath that made it past my chapped lips, and I could feel as it went down my scratchy throat and filled my burning lungs, but it still wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed a lot more, but I could never breath enough in.

Slipping my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head clear of my depressing thoughts and focused on the paper in front of me. It was completely filled in, other than the right corner of the paper where my name was supposed to be. I had finished it only minutes after the math teacher had handed out the paper, and I was the last person to receive it, but everyone else seemed to be struggling with the work.

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I slide further down in my desk, my right arm lying palm down across the arm of the desk, the chilled tile cooling down my over heated body. My feet stretched out in front of me, crossing over one another as they plopped down in the basket below the desk in front of me, which was empty, an obvious plus to being the weird kid of the school.

I stared blankly at my desk as I thought back to last night, small pieces floating to my mind though they were all broken and didn't really help me remember exactly what had happened last night. All I really remember is picking up the bottle of alcohol my sister had purchased for us. After that, it's all black.

I sigh deeply and shove the arm of my hoodie up further, it bunching up at the crook of my elbow. My fingers skimmed over the top of my desk, my focus on the picture someone had drew. I was so transfixed on tracing the grey lining, that I hadn't realized the teacher calling my name.

It wasn't until the person next to me slapped their hand down on the top of my desk that I jumped and looked up, my heart lurching into my throat when I realized everyone's eyes were on me. I gulped loudly, my ringing ears focusing on what the teacher was saying as I focused my wide eyes on my lap, my fingers plucking at the loose strings.

"What?" I asked softly, glancing up at the teacher for a second before I looked down at the paper, my heart rate picking up speed when I seen everyone was still staring at me expectantly, a few of the popular kids laughing and snickering. I cleared my throat and shifted in the seat, my palms beginning to feel clammy as my nerves grew.

"I said," He began, dragging out the 'i' in said, "Since you seem to be focusing on anything other than your assignment, I was wondering if you would care to come up to the board and do number 13 for us." Before he had even finished speaking I felt my body go tense in my hard chair. I slowly looked up at him, my teeth clasping harder around my lip when I seen his, as well as some other students, obvious smirk.

/Fucking prick knows exactly what he's doing./

I shake my head softly and turn my gaze back down to my paper, my hands subconsciously pulling down the arms to my hoodie to get some kind of coverage from everyone's burning gaze. When my arms were covered, I felt some of the uncomfortableness leave my body, but I was still a statue in my seat.

"I don't want to." I said quietly, my voice sounding weak and fragile. I didn't dare glance up, knowing if I seen the faces that belonged to all the people I could hear laughing, the tears that were burning my eyes would begin to fall.

"I'm sorry, did I give you a choice?" The smugness was clear in his voice. He was obviously so proud with himself that he could make a student so uncomfortable, so embarrassed.