A Second Chance

Chapter One

"Out of our way, fag." I feel strong hands grab my shirt and release me into the army of green lockers to my right. Bursts of compressed laughter erupts as I fall to the tiled floor, bracing myself for what I thought would follow. As I curl myself into a ball, the kicking begins. The blows knock the breath out of me. My ribs, my head, my abdomen . . . Everything is searing. The pain is so excruciating that my brain is going into panic mode. My vision blackens around the corners and soon enough I am at peace. No voices, no grunts, no sounds of contact or laughter.

    I stay in that position in the cold floor and listen as the group of attackers walk away smugly. My eyes start to open slowly, pain increasing. I convulse trying to stretch my body out across the tiles. I can feel the bruises already starting to form and the blood from the gashes on my face have started to make its way out of my body and onto the white tile, staining it the color of anger. That's what I am. Angry. Angry at those dickheads. Angry at the staff of this shitty school. Angry at the -

    "Holy Hell! Joba, are you okay?!" I see his ratty Toms and skinny jeans before I realize who is speaking. Emotions overflow and the tears finally escape from my eyes. He kneels down and his golden amber hair waves at me, beckoning me to look at his angelic face and into those equally golden flecked windows of his soul. Colby. The sun of my dark days, which let's face it, every day for me is a dark day. I open my mouth to reassure him that I'm okay and that I'm used to it, but nothing comes out. I choke on blood, spitting and convulsing. Colby is right beside me, holding me up so I don't aspirate. The look on his face is pure terror . . . And that look is the last thing I see.

***

    I wake up three hours later in Colby's queen sized bed. There's a horrible throbbing in my head and a haziness of the events that happened earlier at school. As I try to sit up, I scream in pain and Colby is by my side. He runs his soft hands through my black shaggy hair. He coos me to peacefulness and dreamily tells me, "Don't ever change, you hear me? Don't you dare ever change." He brushes my hair back one more time, kisses my forehead and then my lips, and rises from his seat on the bed. He makes his way to his desk and grabs a bottle of pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these." I grab the ibuprofen out of his palm and pop them in my mouth, chasing them down with warm water.

    Letting out a huge sigh, I snuggle into Colby's side, needing his presence more than ever. He moves out from under me and looks down, not meeting my eyes. "What?" I barely get that one word out before a coughing fit starts.

    There's a long silence before Colby starts in a sad voice, "It's my fault. I'm the reason you got beat up today." I give him a confused look and shake my head, needing more. He looks me in the eyes, tears welling up, "Joba, we are gay. We are a gay couple. We are the only openly gay people in our school and we are not hiding our affection towards one another. This is not the first time you have gotten hurt over me. And it won't be the last unless . . ." He trails off.

    "Unless what?" I already know the answer, but I need him to say it to make it real.

    "Unless . . . Unless we stop while we're ahead." Both of us are in tears now, sobbing into the other. I can't let Colby go. I can't. He is the only thing keeping me here. "I'm sorry, Joba. It has to happen. I have to keep you safe."

    I jump off his bed, ignoring the pain. I can't think. All I can do is run out of his room, out of his house, out of his life. For good. It was decided and I had no say, but now I have the say in how it all will end. And it ends tonight.
   
I run home. Not looking back. Everything is running through my head. The boys yelling at me. The kick and blows. Colby's shoes. His angelic face. His silky smooth voice reassuring me that everything will be okay. Then the almost fantasy of memories turn angry. I get stuck on one memory, repeating itself. The memory of Colby breaking up with me. The tears come and as I run, I swipe at them.

    I stop at my steps, gasping for air. The adrenaline lowers enough that my body aches in horrendous pain. The red door in front of me opens and I hear a woman shriek. Mom. She must be screaming at how bloody I look. I meet her eyes with my own and manage to grin widely without much pain. Her eyes are wide and within moments I'm wrapped in her arms.she starts crying on my shoulder, dampening my shirt. "I'm okay, Mom," I lie, trying to ensure her as I cough up blood into my hand. She can't see it . . . And she won't. I pull away and slip by her into the house. As I shut the door that's between my mom and I, I hear her tell me that we'll talk about it when she gets home from work and that she loves me. I roll my eyes and run up the stairs to my room. My bedroom door greets me with it's Do Not Disturb sign. I push it open and close it behind me, leaning against the cold hard wood.

    I let the breath I've been holding in escape from me. I push all of it out until I feel like a weight is on my chest. I can't back out now. This is the worst pain I have felt in all of my seventeen years of life. How could Colby do this to me? How could he leave me stranded, gasping for life? I have nothing to live for.

    The anger consumes me and I launch myself off the floor, trudging towards the little emerald box on my nightstand. The lock is undone already from the night before. I slowly open the top, revealing two blood coated razors and two newly sparkling ones laying beside them. Might as well go out with style, I think as I retrieve the two new razors. I don't bother closing or locking the box since I won't have to worry about hearing the disappointing comments if they are found. Now I just have to find a place that's quiet to do it.

    I make my way to the bathroom, knowing my brother won't be home for another hour because of baseball. My phone notifies that I have a message and excitement rises up in my stomach reaching my throat. Colby. It has to be Colby telling me he was wrong. I pull the iPhone out of my back pocket to see a message from Taya asking if I want to come out tonight with her and the other rejects. A tear slips out of my eye before I even realize I'm crying. I reply with a short no and shut my phone off, throwing it against the wall. He won't talk to me. He'll never talk to me again and he doesn't even care. I rip open the medicine cabinet above the sink and pull out my anxiety medication. I start the bathtub and down the rest of my medication. This is it.

    Vigorously shaking, I step into the bathtub completely clothed and holding a razor in each hand. My mind is fighting with itself, contemplating if I can actually go through with this. To shut it up, I slice vertically down my right arm and wince at the pain. Before I lose too much blood from that arm, I rip through the skin on my other arm. I'm hyperventilating by now, letting the waterworks free. I'm in pain, but I know it will be over soon. The pain gets worse, but by now I can barely feel it. I'm numb. Completely numb from the pain, the hurt, the happiness, and the heart-brokenness of my life. My breathing starts to slow and black starts to take over my vision. And just like that, I start feeling light. I giggle, drifting in and out of consciousness.