Chapter Text
“How much money do you have for us today, Arlert?” Stupid jocks. They always do this. They only take things and they never give in return. I hate them.
“Huh? How much did your old man give you?” Their words are so annoying. Can’t they see that I’ve had enough of them? Why don’t they just go away? Well, of course I know the answer, but still. Why won’t they find somebody else every once in a while? Why do they have to pick on the sad, lonely kid? Why me? Out of 700 other juniors, they just had to pick me. Life is cruel, don’t you think?
“I only have five dollars,” I mumbled.
“Only five? Pathetic. And here we thought you were our buddy.” I don’t even know who is saying what, but they all sound the same anyways.
I felt the air get sucked out of my lungs, and my back flared with pain. They threw me against the cold, hard, brick wall and stood in front of my face. They. Those stupid jocks don’t need names. They will always be known as they. “Whatever, just give it to me,” one of them said. I forced my arm to move and dug around in my pocket, handing him the money. When he received it, he flashed a smile. “Thanks, Arlert. You’re such a good friend. We’ll be back tomorrow!”
And with that said, they walked away to the football field. I was lying in the back of the school building, so I was both safe and in danger. Safe because nobody could see me like this. In danger because somebody could come over here and beat up some more. I guess I better get up.
I stood up from the floor and held myself up against the walls. It reminds me of what they used to do. They used to call me names and beat me up, and when they were done, they would take my money. They would hit me so bad I needed help standing. They would say things like, “you stupid heretic!” or “fucking nerd” or sometimes even “why don’t you just go and die like the rest of your friends?” Now they only take my money and rough me up a bit.
It’s true; my friends are dead. It was a quick, painless death though. There wasn’t any agonizing pain or anything. Well, for me there was.
My two childhood friends died in a car crash about five months ago, two months before school started. Eren and Mikasa were with their family driving in a car, going school shopping. (Why they went school shopping that early is still a mystery to me). I had called Eren’s phone and was telling him some stuff, when I suddenly heard cries, screams, and the screeching of tires. Then, the line went dead. I soon discovered that the Jaeger family had died on impact with a head-to-head collision with a semi.
I had blamed myself for it all. His mother was driving, and whenever she drives, she needs complete silence or else she can’t focus on the road. If I hadn’t called Eren, his mother wouldn’t have been distracted, and they wouldn’t have died. It was all my fault. I killed my two best friends and their parents. I’m a murderer.
I soon fell into a pit of depression, and eventually, I started self harm. I can save that story for later, but right now, I should get home. I have to get away from everybody.