Chapter 14 - Im A Monster

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Allen's POV

"Yeah?" He asked

"Um" I thought a moment, did I really want to confess to my best friend that I was in love with him? We'd known each other for a month, and this could very well ruin our friendship. "Uh... I'm- I'm sorry about the bathroom incident"

Coward.

"Oh," Fig said, voice a bit smaller "it's ok, I know you didn't mean to hurt me"

"It's not ok," I argue, my voice shaking from the truth "all those kids are right you know, I'm a monster," I say, falling back onto my bed

"You're not a monster, you're my best friend"

"What else am I? Fig, I've hurt people before. I've thought of horrible ways to kill people. Sure these aren't necessarily my thoughts per se, but-"

"Allen," he cut me off "Don't listen to them, they're all crazy"

"Fig, you don't understand. I could have killed you, you could have been a bloody, mutilated body, all because I'm a demon. I'm a monster." My voice quivered "Why am I even here? At home I'm shunned, here I'm made fun of and teased because of what I am. So what's the point? My life has no future Fig. I have nothing. Do you know what they do to monsters? They kill them. I might as well speed up the process" I cried, raising my voice above the whispered tones from before.

"Allen, you don't mean that" He whispered, shaken by my words "please don't-" his voice cracked.

"Why not" I cried, wiping my eyes "Fig, your the only reason I wouldn't, you mean too much to me. I could never hurt you. But me being here puts you in danger." I brushed away the last of the tears and stared at him, waiting for a response.

"You're my only friend." He stated, his voice slightly stronger than before "Sure I'm this coward of a kid, sure I cry when people yell at me, but I swear if those jerks hurt you one more time, I will hurt them" he threatened

A small laugh escaped my throat, slightly from relief. The confidence and anger coming from his small frame made appreciate him even more. He was willing to get himself messed up and beaten for my sake.

"What's so funny?" He asked, trying to stop the smile creeping in his face.

"You're just too cute" I laughed, my voice more nasal from my bout of crying "Thank you though, it means a lot to me"

"No problem" he sighed, "let's get to bed, we still have astronomy tonight"

It was right then his watch beeped on his wrist, signaling the time for us to get up and ready for our class. The  forty-minute timer starting it's count down.

We scrambled out of our beds and got ready. Fig woke up the other first years in our dorm as I went to the bathroom.

I'm not a pretty crier. My face gets blotchy and red, and my eyes all puffy. I swiped a roll of toilet paper and blew my nose. I could still feel the pressure in my sinuses, but didn't worry about it. I had a bit of time before we had to leave.

I put my face under the faucet and ran the cold water, trying to get some of the heat out from my face. I ran the water through my hair, raking my fingers through the black mess.

I really needed a hair cut.

I know a lot of people who have messy hair and it looks good on them, I wasn't one of those people. My hair was just plain messy, nothing attractive about it. My mom and stepdad never really had the time, or ever wanted to cut my hair, so I'd do it myself every so often. It seemed like the time had arrived yet again.

I looked in the mirror again, brushing the water off my face with my sleeve. Water clung to my eyelashes, I blinked a few times, trying to get it to go away.

My face looked a little less red, but it was still obvious I'd been crying.

In total, I looked a mess.

I rushed into my room and grabbed the scissors and shaving razor that were hidden under mounds of random junk I'd packed with me. Running back into the bathroom, I called out to Fig that I'd catch up with him later, and that I'd be a bit late to class.

He walked into the bathroom, to see me snipping at my hair.

"Allen, what are you doing?" He asked, gawking at my awful technique

"I'm trimming my gorgeous locks you idiot" I smiled a little.

"Why don't I? I've cut my neighbor's daughters Barbie hair before. I've had a lot of practice" he laughed, taking the scissors from my hand "I cut my own hair as well, been doing it since second grade"

He took the scissors and started cutting at the top and sides. He then took the shaving razor and barely touched the hair on the sides, giving it a cleaner, shorter cut. It wasn't perfect, but I looked a lot better than it had before.

*not what he looks like, but here's a close representation of the hair cut, but a little less professional*

*not what he looks like, but here's a close representation of the hair cut, but a little less professional*

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When he finished cutting the last of it, I brushed off most of the hair I could and took my shirt off. I ran back into our dorms and grabbed one with no hair clinging to it. I pulled in on as fast as I could and grabbed Figs arm, pulling us through the winding hallways.

I could not be late to astronomy again, the professor would kill me


A/N
Maybe this is just because Im a girl, and don't know boys well, but I feel like when I write guys, they always come out more "feminine" in a sense. I'm not trying to stereotype girls at all guys, plz don't hate me. I'm just saying that guys prolly don't cry in front of each other and or talk about things like this often. Most 13 year old boys that I know are usually annoying, and not very sentimental. *prepares for hate comments*

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