Tears Of Blood
Chapter 1: Depression
I wiped off my eyes and looked in the mirror. A pale, miserable girl stared back. Her eyes were surrounded by a sea of irritated red marks and her black eyeliner was smudged so it looked like she had smeared dirt across her cheeks.
I whimpered a bit at how I’d look when I went to my math class, but I repressed the thought and tried to wash off the black and red eye shadow that was now running swiftly down my chin and onto my neck.
So much for the waterproof protection guarantee.
I checked my face once more, then unwillingly trudged out of the bathroom and into the desolate hallway. I sat on the floor a while and listened to what was going on in the nearby classrooms. Ms. Manqué was giving a speech on hygiene in the health room. In the debate room, two boys were arguing on whether it was right for teenagers to have to take gym. As for the music hall, well, all I heard was music.
I sighed, got up slowly, and continued down the hall to Mrs. Grammar’s math class.
I walked in slowly, as if I was trying to make sure the coast was clear. An assortment of high school students sat on dirty benches/desks. Well, they were benches with a table attached and a little basket underneath to hold books. Most of the kids had fallen asleep with their hoods hiding their faces, but some had open notebooks covered in notes and drawings and graffiti.
“ Why are you late, Ms. Black?”, Mrs. Grammar demanded. Her mouth was like a little pencil-point dot on her face, and her eyes were all squinty.
“ Helping a teacher”, I lied. It might have been believable, too, if my voice hadn’t cracked and gone all squeaky.
“ Is that so? Which teacher, then?”, she challenged.
“ Mrs., um, Prescott.”, I made up the name.
“ There is no such teacher, Ms. Black. I know every one of my fellow staff members, and there’s not a single Mrs. Prescott. Unless, of course, you’re hallucinating, in which case I will gladly send you to a therapist.”, she suggested. The class burst into hysterical laughter, and Mrs. Grammar didn’t even bother trying to shut them up.
Instead, she gave me a wicked grin,” Your grade is an F. If you don’t start making an effort than I will have to fail you.”, she informed me, making sure to raise her voice for everyone, even the people who were catching up on some sleep, to hear. Then she took a few steps towards me and whispered,” As if I’d care. You obviously don’t.”
I just muttered,” Yes, Ms. Grammar”, and walked to my seat in the back of the room. I hid my face in my shirt sleeve and burst into tears.
When the lunch bell rang, I wiped my eyes and knelt down to pick up my bag full of books.
Apparently, someone thought it would be funny to knock the books out and throw the bag halfway across the room. Great.
I stooped down to pick up the books and put them on the little table, but a sudden wind stopped me by blowing my hair in my face. When I’d put my hair back behind my ears, my pack was on the desk, every book neatly organized inside.
I looked around, searching for the person who’d helped me.
” Hello.”, said a voice.
I twisted my head around and there, foot resting on a basket, body against the back wall, stood the most handsome boy I ever saw. He had black hair that barely reached his chin, but framed his face perfectly. He had profound sapphire eyes and his skin was ashen and transparent, covered with muscles that only enhanced his features. He wore a simple black T-shirt with dark blue jeans and white gym shoes. A leather armband adorned his right wrist.
“ Hey”, I said bitterly,” What do you want?”
He smiled at my sharpness,” Just helping a student in need.”, he said kindly. His voice was delicate and smooth with a hint of roughness, like the fragile blade of a knife.
I got up quickly and swung my bag onto my back,” I think I’m capable of taking care of myself.”, I said.
He shrugged slightly,” Maybe, maybe not. You still look a bit helpless to me, not to mention that you could use some touch–ups with that makeup.” he pointed out.
For such a beautiful guy, his attitude sure didn’t match,” Just leave me alone so I can go to lunch.,” I said, getting more hostile every second I stood there.
His eyes brightened,” What a great idea—I’m starving!”, he said.
I grumbled and plodded out of the room and into the corridor. I could hear the boy following behind me, and sped up a bit. He sped up with me. Stupid boy.
I twirled around and looked him in the eye,” Will you mind not stalking me?”, I asked.
He looked at me like I was crazy,” I’m not stalking you! I’m just going to lunch.”
“ Yeah, right.”, I scoffed.
I made a prompt turn down the freshman hall and edged through the crowds of teens. I turned into another hallway that lead me straight to my locker. I banged three times on the door then kicked it. It opened with a rusty whine. I jammed my books in, slammed the locker shut, and took my shortcut to the lunchroom.
When I’d finally walked through the double doors leading to the cafeteria, lunch was already halfway over. I plopped down at my usual table in the corner. Of course, no one joined me.
I opened my Ziploc bag of food. The only things in it were some fruit snacks, a bag of Doritos, and an apple.
Awesome.
I ate the little bit of food I had, then rested my head on the table and thought of whether I should ditch next class or not.
“ Hello”, said a familiar voice.
I moaned in utter distaste,” Can’t you just leave me alone and get on with your life?”, I whined.
“ Not before you get on with yours, my depressed friend.”, he said firmly.
I looked up at him. I was nearly blown out of my chair by the beautiful face staring back down at me,” Firstly, I am not your friend. Secondly, I am not depressed. And thirdly, good luck with that.”
“ So what’s your name, anyway?”, he inquired, as if I didn’t even speak.
“ What’s it to you?”, I asked harshly, hoping it would eventually scare him off.
“ I have to know your name if I’m ever going to help you.”, he said, still as determined as before.
I narrowed my eyes at him,” October. My name is October Black.”, I answered finally.
“ October...it’s a rather nice name.”, he said, thinking.
“ What?”, I questioned. His response had been a surprise...for me, at least. Everyone else I ever meet hated my name; they said I was a Goth piece of crap that deserved to dance with the devil.
Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, fellas.
“ You heard me. I like your name. October...such a cold, scary month and yet you make it so warm and lovable.”, he said, smiling at me.
Huh? Was that his pick-up line or something? I wondered how many girls he got with that one. Then again, if you have a body like his, you don’t need pick-up lines.
I just nodded my head in that nice little way that got you out of major awkward situations and thanked him,” What’s your name anyway?”, I added.
He looked a bit uncomfortable a second, as if his name could possibly be any worse than mine,” My name is Demetri Waters.”
What was wrong with that name? It was perfectly normal! A little goth? Yes. But compared to mine, it was just fine.
“ What's wrong with that name?"
He hung his head grimly and stared at the table, picking at an invisible object that he seemed to have ‘spotted’,” I'm named after my father. He was a serial killer a long, long time ago. It’s shameful! But that’s my name, for all eternity.”, he said.
“ Until you die, that is”, I put in, trying to be optimistic.
“ Yeah, uh, right…”, he said in that secretive way.
Then I noticed it. You know how I said that his hair was black and his eyes were sapphire blue, right? Phhtt, duh, of course you know! Well, anyways, his eyes started turning a rich, dark purple. The color was as beautiful as Demetri, but the more you looked at it, the sadder it got and it made me feel like I was on the bottom, just some crummy low-life that didn’t deserve to be on this Earth. Then, his hair started turning an ugly brown, like withered up leaves in fall( the ones that crumble into a million pieces as soon as you pick them up).
“ Demetri, your hair! Your...eyes! What…?!?”, I tried to ask, but the color change made it hard for me to do anything but stare.
“ What are you…? Oh! Oh no!”, his exclaimed, and his eyes got bigger and bigger as he realized what was happening. His closed his eyes tight and, at first, it looked like he was in pain.
Then he expression evened out and he sat there, cool as a cucumber. He opened his eyes, obviously waiting for my reaction.
I stared, my eyes wide with fear and curiousity," What was that?", my voice was shaky and unstable.
All he could do was stare back.
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