Not the Same

Savior (Part 2)

Ricky’s POV

            I awoke by the loud noise of a thunderclap. Looking toward the window, I could see that it was pouring the rain. I leave my bed and walk over to the window. Looking out toward the gloomy sky, a bolt of lightning illuminates the area. Looking closely, I could have sworn I saw the face of someone outline in the sky after the flash of light. All I could make out was that their hair was spiked. Who was that?

            Shortly after, a nurse walks in with Kian. “You ready for your next session,” the nurse asks.

            “Yep,” I say excitedly.

            “Okay,” the nurse says and leaves the room.

            “Do you still remember what we went over last session,” Kian asks showing me a picture of my family.

            “My name is Ricky Dillon. I was born on April 4, 1992 in North Carolina. That’s my mom and dad and that’s my sister,” I say feeling proud.

            “That’s good,” Kian says. “Now, what about this picture, do you know who they are?”

            “They look familiar, but I can’t remember,” I say. “I know that’s me and you, but I don’t know who those two girls are? Who are they?”

            “That’s Shelby,” Kian says pointing to the blonde and bubbly looking girl.

            “And that’s Andrea,” he says pointing to the girl with reddish brown hair.

            “They are our closest friends from back home,” he says.

            “Did we have any other friends,” I ask.

            “Uh, not really,” Kian says. He then shows me a picture of a group of people. “This is our class photo. The majority of these people didn’t like us because we were outsiders.”

            “That’s not fair,” I say feeling a little mad.

            “I know, but what can you do,” Kian says. “You can’t force someone to like you.”

            “True,” I say.

            Staring at the class photo, one student stood out among the rest to me. The smirk on his face for some reason infuriated me. Why does this person make me feel this way? “Ricky are you okay,” Kian asks.

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. It’s just, this guy for some reason makes me feel enraged.”

            Looking at the person I was pointing to, Kian says, “Doesn’t surprise me. That’s Cameron. He tortured us the most in school, especially, me and you.”