{Tyler}
I dug the blade deeper than I should have, as a scream from outside caught me off guard, "God dammit!" I winced, tossing the blade on the hardwood floor,
"Tyler, do not use gods name in vain, you here me boy?" My dad opened the door abruptly, making me jump slightly, and quickly hide my right arm.
"Yeah, sorry." I quickly spat out, hoping that would satisfy him, and to my luck, it did. As he shut the door, I let out a sigh, quickly getting up to throw the razor in a box underneath my bed.
I opened up my window, despite the rain, and turned on the radio, changing it to the CD I had it. Apologize by OneRepublic turned on, and I went back to my bed. I pulled the quilt over my head, and curled myself up. Just as I was relaxing, I started to hear yelling,
"You're a worthless piece of shit, you hear me?! It's all your fault your mother died!"
"St-Stop it! I'm sorry!" A familiar cry came out, making me pause to think.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, she's dead!"
"I didn't do anything!" The voice screamed out, making it click. Cameron, it was Cameron. I bit my lip, why did I feel bad? He's an asshole, he's been nothing but rude to me, and Rae. So why? I don't get it...
"You're pathetic, get out of my house!" There was a slam of the door. Quickly, I went to my window, and looked out. Cameron held his head, and sobbed. Before, I couldn't understand, but after hearing how painful his sobs sounded, I knew why I felt so horrible.
I opened my door, and made my way down the stairs, quickly arriving at his doorstep, "Are you okay?"
"Leave me alone." He grumbled,
"Let me rephrase myself, do you need a place to sleep? As long as you look presentable, I don't think my parents will care."
"I guess... Thanks."
"Just, uh, wait here, you can't come in looking like that." I ran back in the house, and grabbed a bag, throwing my wallet in it, before coming out again, "Alright, let's go."
We walked down the streets in a surprisingly comfortable silence, until Cameron decided to revoke it, "Um, what are those?" He pointed to the scars, and cuts on my arm,
"Mind your own business, will ya?" I covered the fresh ones with my hand, but there were too many to get all of them out of sight.
"Oh, sorry." Cameron mumbled, looking down.
"It's alright." I sighed, making a quick turn into The Icon General Store. Cameron looked dazed for a second, before he ran to catch up, "Grab a cart,"
"Right." He swerved back, and took a cart, "What do we need?"
"A wash cloth, another bag, some presentable clothes, bandages, a bible, and makeup."
"Why do we need a bible? What's wrong with my clothes, and why do I need makeup?"
"My parents are VERY religious, and will only allow you ever if I prove that you are too, how do we do that? We put a bible in the bag, BAM! They'll totally think you're a real Christian.. Hopefully."
"If they quiz me, I'm dead."
"Don't worry, I would be too... If they do, just say that I'm teaching you, alright?"
"Yeah, and I'm still waiting on the explanation for the makeup and clothes."
"I know. Your clothes are, one, bloody, and two, too... Sloppy, for my parents. The makeup... You have a huge bruise on your face, they don't want punks in their house."
"But I'm not a punk,"
"Well, you look like one... In their eyes."
"What if I said I was abused?"
"They would freak out on me, since I'm not supposed to talk to downers."
"Why? Some people can't help it."
"And neither can I, but they don't get that, so I'm stuck." I rolled my eyes, "Um.. I'm lost." I stared at the makeup isle mindlessly,
"Same..."
"I'll just call Rae."
"Okay, um, I'll go get the bandages, a bag and the washcloths."
"Alright, get a bag of a lighter color, for some reason it'll help." I said, before calling Rae, and getting the help I needed.
"I got the stuff, oh hey, you figured it out."
"Yep, now the bible, and then some clothes." We went into the bible section, and picked up a random one, before heading into the clothes section, "What shirt size?"
"Medium."
"Alright, here." I pulled out a white button up, "Pant size?"
"Um, what should I go for?" Cameron's face turned bright red, and he began to mess around with his blonde hair,
"Dress pants," I pointed to the rack, and he reached upward, before quickly tossing them face down into the cart, so I was
"Okay, uh, got them.... Do you have money?"
"Duh."
"Well, do you have enough?"
"I have more than enough." I slung my backpack off of my shoulder, and unzipped it, pulling out my wallet. We waited for the checkout guy to finish up,
"That'll be three-hundred eighty-one dollars." He sighed, clearly not enjoying his job. I handed him the money, "Have a good day sir."
"Y-You too." I waved, ducking as if somehow his words were flying at me, and would hurt if they made contact with me,
"You're weird."
"I know, I can't help it."
"You can control ducking when someone says something that requires a response..."
"No, I really can't. I have extreme social anxiety, and that is my first reaction."
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's fine," I shrugged, "Let's just get this done and over with, I'm tired." I swung the bathroom door open,
"Right," Cameron caught the door, and locked it behind us.
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