#2: Coming Out

Dylan Hathaway:

I get into bed and engulf myself in my cozy blanket, creating my personal cocoon of warmth. I shut my eyes, hoping the sound of the soft breeze blowing against my window and the warmth of my blanket will slowly drift me to sleep. But I lie in my snug cocoon with my eyes refusing to close. I let the darkness of my room swallow me, and there I lie, replaying my day in my head. Thoughts of them control my mind and destroy my soul. I feel tears preparing to fall as they bundle in groups and push with all their might. Before I notice, a tear falls, and the rest follow after it like a herd of sheep. The salty, warm liquid flows down my flushed face until the coziness of my blanket disappears, and only my tears give me warmth.

I fall asleep in my puddle of tears and icy cocoon where I'm transported to a new world─ my dreams. My dreams are different. They aren't your typical pink unicorns and sports games. My dreams isolate me in an empty, cheerless room where I'm locked to a chair. The chair is dirty and fragile, but it doesn't budge. My hands and legs are chained, constricting any possible movement. A door in the corner is wide open, but it's pitch black behind it as if it were taunting me. A movie begins. My day replays back to me again.

No…

The constant torture I face comes back to me again and again. I hate my dreams; in fact, I despise them. But the funny thing is, I never want to wake up. I don't want to open my eyes and face the misery that punches me in the face every day. The darkness piles on top of me, squeezing me out of my cocoon that was once was filled with warmth and leaving me with my plain, pale, weak self...

"You know what I want, Hathaway," Ace Gorbold spits as he balls up his fists, flexing his arms that are three times bigger than mine. "You better give me what I want, or I'll break every bone in your body," he smirks as his wave of cronies laughs behind him.

My lip quivers and my head drops, helping me avoid all eye contact. My hand trembles as I hand my wrinkled homework to the giant. His huge silhouette blocks all sunlight, and I stand bare and weak in his shadow.

"Loser."

The crowd laughs at his comment, but I keep my head down and mumble an "Okay" as I try to control my breathing. I try to quickly scurry away like a mouse from a cat, but my thin and stubby legs fail me as I fall on the ground. The laughter grows. My palms and knees sting, but I ignore the pain and quickly run into towards the bathroom. Through the broken windows, the wind hits my eyes, and the autumn leaves crunch underneath my worn-out sneakers as my warm, crimson blood flows down my pale arm. But I focus on my destination—the boy's bathroom stall.

When I reach the restroom, I'm hit with the stench of urine and stagnant water. But I don't care. I quickly lock myself in a stall and hunch over on the brown, rusty toilet under the flickering lights. I look around me and take a deep breath. Graffiti is splattered on the walls like scribbles on paper. The gossip planted on the walls makes me think, Does no one have a heart? Is this world really just rundown buildings and graffiti? All people in this world only care for themselves. They stick with their cliques, but in their head, they only think of themselves. They hide under their masks, the masks that are supposed to hide their true selves but make me tremble in my shoes. Under their masks, I can always see the glint of evil in their eyes as they glare into my soul.

My lips begin to quiver, and I swallow hard, realizing that my eyes began to water. Maybe it's the fumes of the bathroom or Ace and his pack of lackeys. Maybe it was just people in general, but a tear slowly falls down my cheek and splashes into the palm of my hands.

Ring! Ring! Riiiiinggg!

I rushed out of the bathroom as soon as I heard the bell, roughly rubbing my eyes. I continue my day as usual. I keep my head down while everyone hovers over me, pointing and giggling as if there was nothing better to do. The day finally ends, and I run out never looking back. Just keep your head down and don't look up. Avoid everyone at all costs. That is what you do to survive.

The walk home is just me walking as fast as I can, dodging every pedestrian on the street. While waiting for the go signal, a shoulder brushes against mine, and I begin to shiver. I feel a pang in my chest and a lump forms in my throat. My palms begin to sweat and my breathing gets heavy. No! Stay away! Don't touch me! I crawled into a ball on the street, covering my ears. No one will care anyways. They all huddled around me like they all do and just left. Typical. As I begin regain my awareness, I continue walking. Speed walking. Jogging. Running. Sprinting. I reach home ignoring the gazes of people on the street and the stench of the sewers. I focus on one thing and one thing only, my house.

Reaching home in a matter of minutes, I stop in the front of my yard. Something seems off. Creak. My head swiftly turns to the source of the sound. It came from our neighboring house. The house that had been empty for years, which is one reason why I love my neighborhood. My eyes gravitate to a girl about my age on the patio. She seems to be pacing around as if there is something wrong. I catch myself admiring her features. Her wavy, fiery scarlet hair blows through the wind, and my eyes flow with it as if I'm in a trance. Her skin is pale with freckles scattered across her cheekbones.

"Achoo!" I sneeze. Oh no! I think she noticed.

I look up to see her looking in my direction. I glance at her icy, blue eyes, and I freeze before I could drop my head. Time seemed to slow as if her eyes were cooling it, leaving us to stare at each other.

"Erin! What are you doing? Help me move these boxes," her mom calls, bringing me out of my daze.

"Coming mom," she replies, ending our staring contest. It seems like she was moving next door.

No! Go away…

Erin Atkins:

It was last year in eighth grade. I had only one friend, Tabitha Meyers. We sat alone at lunch at the sticky table that always reeked of vomit and expired milk. We were outcasted, but we stuck together. We were bullied, ignored, and laughed at, but we always endured it together.

But something changed. Tabitha changed. She ignored me and even laughed at me. She stopped hanging around me. She started hanging out with the cool kids. At one point, I was left alone. I was bullied, ignored, and laughed at alone. I, Erin Atkins, was alone forever.

That memory just flashed through my mind during the car ride. It's the day we're moving to our new house. The car ride, which would usually be a pleasant experience for me, makes my stomach turn. Every bump in the road shook the moving truck, causing our shoulders to slam into each other. I look out the window to see a blur of yellow and orange trees.

We suddenly stop, and I see our new neighborhood. Down the street, all the houses looked identical. They had the same brown roofs, the same red brick exterior, and the same windows. Walking out of the vehicle, I jump at the slam of the door. The cool breeze runs a shiver down my spine. The scent of freshly cut grass wafts over me. My stomach tightens as I view my new house.

I step on the patio and walk back and forth on the creaky floorboards. Will I make any friends here? Will I be alone again? My pace increases. The breeze cools me down.

"Achoo!" someone sneezes.

My head lifts to the house next door. In front of the house is a thin, pale boy with shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He slowly lifts his head up, and I stare into his hazel eyes. How old is he? Maybe we can be friends.

"Erin! What are you doing? Help me move these boxes," my mom nags.

"Coming mom," I yell. I briskly tear my attention from the boy and drag stacks of boxes and bags of clothes into the house, bags with the grainy concrete driveway. Opening the door, I am greeted with the wooden floorboard, sparking marble tables and the smell of cardboard and new furniture.

New house. New life. Better friends. I hope I can still make friends even though I joined a little later in the year.

I step into my room. It's as blank and fresh as my start in this town. The white walls are bland and the only decoration in the room is my bare mattress. I leave my bags on the floor, telling myself that I'd put it away later.

"Mom, I'm done. What do I do now?" I ask expectantly.

"You can bring this gift basket to our neighbors to give them a greeting from our family," Mom hands me the baskets filled with goods. I swiftly take it from her hands and carry it to the neighbor's house.

Ding-Dong!

The scrawny boy from before opens up.

"Hello! My name is Erin Atkins from the Atkins family that just moved next door. I'm fourteen. We're giving you this basket to say hello," I give him my signature smile and hold out my hand. His hazel eyes continue to stare at me blankly.

"Tha─" he stops. He abruptly turns and runs away, forgetting the gift basket. Does he not like me? Does he think I'm annoying? I sigh and begin to turn away.

"Excuse me, were you the one at the door?" a woman who I guess is that boy's mother wondered.

"Yes, my name is Erin Atkins from the Atkins family that just moved next door. We're giving you this basket to say hello," I repeated, giving her the basket.

"Welcome to the neighborhood! We are the Hathaway family. My fourteen-year-old son is Dylan Hathaway."

"Oh, I'm fourteen, too. Can I come in? Maybe we can become friends."

"Of course! Come in."

Their house is the opposite of ours. Their walls are decorated with paintings and memories while our is still blank. Their house is filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. We reach a door with a crooked sign that says "Dylan".

His mom knocks on the door, "Dylan someone is here to see you."

I walk into his room. I thought it was going to be like the rest of his house, decorated and fun, but his room was just as bland as mine. No color, no decoration, and barely any furniture. I glance at him. He sits there like a sack of potatoes.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Mrs. Hathaway left.

"Hi! I'm Erin, and I was hoping we could become friends."

"I-I h-have a f-fear of p-people, s-so I don't know h-how to be f-friends."

"Why are you scared of people?"

"N-no o-one e-ever c-cares."

"Well, I care. So, friends?"

"F-friends."

I'm not alone.

Dylan Hathaway:

My dreams are changing. I'm being set free. When I'm locked to a chair, there are twenty-five chains links. For the past week, seven chains broke. This all started when I met Erin. When I made a new friend. When I wasn't scared of a person. I've stopped crying myself to sleep. Has Erin changed me that much? Am I happy?

I wake up, get ready, and skip to Erin's house so we can go to school together.

"Hey Dylan?", she taps my shoulder. I don't freeze or shake. Nothing changes.

"Yea?" I answer nonchalantly.

"With me you act fine, but when you're with other people, you act like you did when I first met you. You avoid eye contact, physical contact, and all conversations with anyone other than me."

"Well Erin, not everyone is as nice as you. You're my only friend. I definitely adapting to people. Yesterday in class, I was able to answer a question in science class."

"That's a start, but what about making other friends?

"You're the only friend I need."

"I refuse to believe that! You're a great person and your friendship needs to be shared with everyone. I'm helping you whether you like it or not."

I stop in my tracks, "Why are you so stubborn? I don't want new friends. Don't try to help me."

She stops with me. "Oh...I'll just leave you alone then," she turns round and runs back home.

I stand lonely in the middle of the street. My only friend… Gone…

My dreams change again… Chains tighter, room darker, and the chains… Twenty five chains. I thought I was free… I'm sorry Erin… Come back.

When I wake up, I dash to Erin's house. I ring the bell and tap my foot impatiently. Erin opens up, her hair as flawless as ever. "What are yo─"

"Look, I'm sorry… I think… I'm ready to make a new… friend," I hesitate.

"You don't have to."

"But I want to."

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Let's try something simple," she says, calling for her brother. A boy the size of Ace walks to the doorway. He has her fiery hair and piercing blue eyes, but his eyes don't bring me the same warmth Erin's do. His make me freeze, sweat, and run. I run away at the speed of light.

"Dylan!" I hear behind me. I don't look behind. I'm sorry Erin. I couldn't do it.

At school, I keep my head down, try to avoid the pitying expression planted on Erin's face.

"Please welcome our new student Joseph Bank. Take a seat next to that red-headed girl over there," our teacher begins.

During class, I see Erin and Joseph chatting away as if she already replaced me. If Joseph-the-new-kid could do it, why can't I?

After class, I get up and head to Joseph's table. I gave my best try at a welcoming smile and wiped my sweat off my hand before sticking it out, "Welcome to the school. My name's Dylan."