Scars (Ziam)

No Nightmare

Chapter 13:

"Hey!"

I jumped as I heard the chipper-sounding voice, almost hitting the side of my locker. It came from nowhere, and I peeked out from underneath the hood of my jacket, seeing a familiar pair of white and red Adidas shoes standing a short distance away. I knew who it was, and I wasn't really ready for any kind of confrontation today.

"Why haven't you been to the club after school in a while? Harry's worried about you," Louis commented, and that was an odd statement to me. Harry didn't know me. How could he be worried about me?

"I told you... I'm not very good at writing," I brushed off, shutting my locker and turning to walk down the hall, hoping Louis would leave me alone. I was foolish to think that he would even for a second.

"I told you that I don't believe that," He quipped as he rushed up beside me, matching my pace even with his shorter legs.

"How would you know?" I said, not really expecting an answer. I heard Louis stop walking for a moment, and I assumed I was successful in pushing him away, but I heard him catch up to me again a second later, the wrinkling sounds of a paper unfolding in his hands.

"Summer rays shine too bright," He read aloud, and I immediately froze in my tracks. I felt someone bump into me from behind, a small "oops" leaving their lips before walking around me. Louis gently grasped by elbow and led me to the side of the hallway, against the pair of lockers and out of the way of the human traffic.

"How did you get that?" I questioned, voice sounding rough and hesitant. I didn't dare look up at Louis.

"You dropped it when you were packing your bag after second hour. I picked it up to give it back to you. Liam... this is really good stuff. Why wouldn't you want to share this with anybody?" He said, holding the paper out to me so I could take it back.

I snatched it out of his hand quickly and folded it up, shoving it into my pocket.

"It's not... good," I said, turning my body away from him. I felt my face heating up at the thought of someone else reading my words. Every poem was so personal. Every single thought revealed the endless torture I've been through. Why would I want to put my heart and soul onto white pages for people to judge and ridicule?

"Um... yes, it is," Louis insisted. "It's real, and it makes a person feel something. Hell, if more people could stir up emotions the way you could, who knows what greatness could be unlocked! We have to show this to Harry. Maybe read it after school today. He's also in journalism, and he helps work on the school newspaper. Your poem could be featured in the section of The Arts."

"It can't... I- I don't want it to be," I managed to say, and Louis paused in his speech for a moment. I watched as he shifted all of his weight over to his right foot, leaning against the lockers now.

"Why not? Why wouldn't you want that?" He wondered, seeming genuinely shocked and confused.

"Louis," I said, the name feeling strange as it rolled off of my tongue. It was unusual for me to know as many names as I did now-- to use them. "There are some things that people write... that are just too personal to share."

"Okay. That's fair. I understand that. If it's too personal then you should definitely keep it to yourself. But... Liam, just trust me on one thing," He stood upright again, both feet taking on his weight once more. "I know... and everyone should know, that you are an amazing writer. Who knows, maybe someday you'll feel in touch and secure with yourself to put out something personal."

I didn't offer a response. I just stood there, staring down at the floor and feeling the folded up piece of paper that now resided in my pocket.

I wrote the poem on the corner of a piece of scratch paper for my math work. Most people would scribble down pictures whenever they got bored or distracted, but I tended to scribble out small poems or short thoughts that I just had to get off of my chest. Those thoughts, if left alone for too long, began to feel entrapping and suffocating. It felt like my head was spinning, and I couldn't focus on a single thing. It felt like the words were trapped in my throat, all of the dark thoughts begging to escape, but I refused to let them out. It was much safer to swallow them all down and never let anyone else see the hideous truth underneath the already disturbing exterior.