Every tear's a waterfall, every scar's a vile reminder

Chapter 1

He heard the crack before he felt it. It echoed between his ears as a sharp pain erupted at the crook of his nose. Only then did he feel a warm thick liquid trickle over and into his partially seperated lips and cascade down his chin, falling to the ground creating a wicked red trail as he stumbled back towards the lockers. It was such a powerful blow that he thinks he temporarily blacked out, although he could never be sure, as when he opened his eyes he saw his attackers retreating to the cafeteria; both of them laughing and smiling as if they were proud. They probably were.

Hauling his abused body to its feet, he leaned against the now dented lockers, depending on them to keep him stable until he felt safe enough to stand by himself. Jackson had appeared from no-where with his little bum buddy matt. Both of them had treated him like shit since middle school and it was nothing new but only recently had it started to get violent: only since the beginning of senior year.

Rolling his shoulders out and circling his neck, he let out a shaky breath and started towards the exit of the school. Escaping through the emergency exit door he took long, purposeful strides towards his jeep. His oh so beautiful jeep that he cherished dearly.

Ditching had become a regular for him. Making his attendance drop from the high nineties to the low eightys and the school was on his case immediately. They called home to talk to his father though they never got far as he was either too drunk or too out of it to answer and on the rare occasion they would ring to tell him his son had ditched (yet again) and he would answer he didn't listen. It had become painfully clear he didn't care. Eventually the school had just stopped calling.

Jumping into his jeep, his one safe space, he retrieved the half empty box of tissues from his glove box and wiped down his still bloody nose.
Wiping it away he let the floodgates open. Tears flew freely down his pale cheeks and dropped from his chin, mixing with the coagulated blood and creating a disgusting mess on the lower half of his face. This was also a regular occurrence. He had cried so many times just in this school year it was now just natural. He hated it. He absolutey despised it. He never allowed himself in front of other people. He seemed weak enough as it is and he didn't need some petty emotions to finally do him over.

Starting his jeep, he drove away from the school and towards his only other safe space. As cliche as it sounds, that safe space was the local hill top where you could see over the entirety of beacon hills. It was always empty, not a soul to be seen and it was beautiful, and better yet no one could find him, not that anyone would ever bother looking for him in the first place.

He took off down the road towards the local hill top and drove much faster that the law abiding citizen should but who would be there to catch him? His pissed father that would take him home and do ungodly things to him. Yeah he would be fine.

A throbbing pain in his face brought him out of his dazed thoughts as he realised he probably had a broken nose. The pain had spread, seeping to his brain and jaw and he thrived on it. It let him know he was alive and the constant deathly feeling bleeding from his heart could be stopped. Even for the shortest of periods and stiles lived for those moments. Pulling into the car park at the top of the hill, he sighed out in relief and retrieved a few items from his car to take with him. He grabbed his phone, headphones a book and one of his most recent friends: his blade kept in a silky black bag. He stuffed the blade and phone into his back pockets and carried the rest, taking a seat on the very edge as the nightlife below roared.

Yanking out his phone, he plugged his headphones in and started listening to his music whilst opening to the page of his bookmark. He didn't have many chances to get a chance to relax and feel as free as this so he appreciated the rare opportunities he got.

After nearly 2 and a half hours of reading the sun had begun to set and his mind had started to tire. Realising he had made good progress of his book, he replaced the book mark and placed it besides him on the fresh grass, breathing in deeply.