The Little Things [Book 1]

Chapter Fifteen: Yellow Card

"Just forget it, Bryan. You'll never manage to get girls who dislike you to cheer for you," Rachel told him as the group entered their class.

"Haha, yeah sure, make fun of my non-existent sex life," Bryan whined and then he stopped short. Everyone looked at him confused and then followed his gaze to a desk close to the windows.

Mark sat there, clad in a black hoodie that was way too oversized for him. He had the hood up, covering his face almost completely. The part that wasn't covered by the hood, he hid with his hands, on which he rested his face. He was slouching and could be described almost curled up.

Thomas was the first one to snap out of it. He went and sat down to the desk next to Mark. He had sat next to Mark before, but all those times he had to think it through. This time he didn't.

"Hey," he said to Mark, not actually expecting a reply.

"Hey." The reply came when Rachel went and joined them, by sitting on top of Thomas's desk. Both friends, hearing Mark, turned, completely focused on him.

Mark's voice was hoarse. Hoarser than usual. It almost sounded wounded. As if he had swallowed razor blades, which had scratched his throat. Was he that sick? The sudden silence that fell, made Mark's breaths audible. They were labored and exhausted.

"Are you sick, or something?" Rachel asked him, while Dean, Bryan and Blake approached them and sat down close.

"No, I'm not sick," Mark said, trying to clear his throat but failing. Eyes stayed on him until he huffed and took away his hands from his face. He felt as if they could hear his heartbeat, even though he was sure they still couldn't see anything. With a groan at the movement, Mark reached up and pulled down his hood.

The sight sickened Thomas. Almost all of Mark's face was dark purple. His one eye was filled with blood, and his lip that had healed from Hal's attack was cut open again. But those weren't the most bone-chilling things on him. What actually shocked every single person in the classroom were the bruises that went around Mark's neck. They were clear signs of strangulation. If Thomas looked hard enough he was sure he'd be able to make out fingerprints. Without saying a word Mark pulled up the long sleeves of the hoodie and showed off even more bruises.

"What... happened?" Rachel asked out of breath.

"Was it Hal again?" The words left Thomas's mouth without his volition. Mark's dark gray eyes snapped to him and his expression turned borderline terrified. What did Thomas know?

"No," Mark said, straining to talk but willing to say what had happened. "William... I ended it with William..." his voice faded and he had to cough softly to get it back, "And... and he didn't like it".

"He attacked you? For breaking up? What kind of boyfriend-" Dean started, but Mark cut him off.

"He wasn't my boyfriend... and he didn't just attack me. He almost killed me," Mark voice would disappear for every other word and then return with even more hoarseness.

"Mark..." Rachel started saying, but Mrs. Coleman hit the desk to bring the attention to her.

Rachel climbed down and went to sit in front of Thomas, looking sheepish. Mrs. Coleman ran her eyes over the class and stopped at Mark. Worry crossed her features, but she chose not to comment on Mark's looks. Instead she turned to the board and started the lesson.

At some point, about, ten or fifteen minutes later, Thomas couldn't stop himself and he turned to look at Mark. Mrs. Coleman had been reading something from a book, not even paying attention to who was caring and who had fallen asleep. As soon as Thomas's golden eyes fell on Mark, he realized something was wrong.