Clay pov

It was another day. 

Another day I opened my eyes to be met with dissapointment. 

Another day I wen to school to be ignored. 

Another day to hate myself. 

Another day that I got up with a fake smile. 

I did my skincare, brushed my teeth, and ran a hand through my hair. 

I tried to do more for myself, but I couldnt. 

It wouldnt have changed anything. 

My mother would still be displeased that I was gay. 

My mother would still find other things I needed to improve. 

My mother...

She had been lonely ever since the divorce. 

I understood, and tried to be there for her as much as I could, but that was hard since Drista wasnt here anymore. 

I missed her, but I had no legal ability to see hare anymore. 

And nor did my mother. 

I tried to convince myself that Mom was hurt more by it; her daughter had been taken away from her, but I knew they had never been close. 

Drista and I, however, had been best friends. 

She had left with my dad a couple years ago, leaving me to my mother's rapidly worsening mental abuse. 

I could do nothing to please her. 

And so I didnt try to. It was all she could grasp onto, shit talking me, and if it made her life better, I would suffer. 

I threw on some clothes, dark jeans with a royal blue sweater over it, hugging my body and making me warm against the chilly draft that entered my room from under my bedroom door. 

I grab my phone and backpack, rushing out my bedroom and into the kitchen to eat something. 

Mom wasnt out yet, which meant I had a chance of leaving to school without her noticing. 

I mixed up a small amount of waffle batter for myself, enough to make two small pancakes. 

I ate hurriedly, rushing around the kitchen to clean up. 

A small click from a door downstairs made me freeze. I paused my washing of the dishes, watching the hallway with a calm expression, even though I was panicking inside.

Were the counters as clean as they could be?

DId I sweep the entire floor?

Were the dishes spotless?

Everything I'd done that morning seemed mediocre under the intense gaze of my mother. 

She soon there, in a black T-shirt and dark cargo pant, scrutinizing me with a smile, looking around the kitchen for something to correct. 

When she didnt find anything, she looked back at me, her eyes softer, but somehow still as threatening. 

"You could've done your hair better. And you were late waking up. Please do better in the future." Her words were commanding, but she spoke in a soft, passively agressive tone. 

I nod, continuing my cleaning of the dishes. 

~time skip~

At school, I was an introvert. I was quiet. I didnt talk much, even if the teachers asked me a question. 

At most, a shrug was the only sign I gave that I wasnt deaf, but I didnt see the point in talking to people if they didnt want to talk to me. 

I dont know when it happened, I used to have friends. 

I used to be borderline popular. 

I used to be a sports fanatic. 

I used to have a life. 

But... those things I used to be with Drista at my side. 

We would always go to football games whenever they came to town. 

We practically ruled our classes at school when we went here together. 

We used to spend every moment that we could together. 

Her absence didnt make me cry anymore. 

It made me upset, sure, but only because I knew that she was mentally unstable when she left, and I wish I could be there to help her through it. 

But I cant now. 

And so I fell off. 

I stopped seeing my friends, lost the will to follow football, and the school forgot my name. 

The only thing at school that brought me mild interest was the brunette boy that looked stunning every day I saw him. 

He was just like the rest of the school, oblivious to the existence of the introverts, but I couldnt help but watch him as he walked around. 

I wished I could talk to him, but I knew I would mess up. 

I wanted to get to know him, but I wouldnt know the first thing to ask. 

The only thing I would ever know about him was that his name was George Davidson.