Charlie was stoic as he sat on the bus that morning with his older sister, Tori; he had put in his headphones because he hadn't wanted to talk to her. Yet again, their parents had ignored his request for help when it came to his "issues". His mother didn't understand, and was clearly the more dominant one in the marriage, while his father just bowed down to her every word.

It was the final days of February, so his coat was his cocoon as the bus traveled along the road that morning; scars were hidden along his arms and legs. He'd been cutting himself due to the bullying getting worse when he'd been outed last year. The abusive relationship he'd fallen into with Ben Hope during that time didn't help either. Even though Ben had left Truham Grammar and wouldn't be returning, the events leading up to Ben's assault on him, calling him all sorts of ugly names, still haunted him completely.

Ugly.

Stupid.

Crazy.

Weirdo.

Freak.

Fucking faggot.

No one will ever want you, Charlie!

Charlie shut his eyes, gritting his teeth to hold back all the tears. He had saved up his pocket money for weeks in order to afford a Walkman, and Phil Collins' Against All Odds seemed to be his theme song these days. All his songs seemed to be hits, sad hits, from various pop artists of the day, although the crippling sadness never seemed to leave him completely. And then there was Nick Nelson, the star of the schools' Rugby team, whom Charlie had had a crush on for the past year, all through his pseudo-relationship with Ben.

They'd been sat next to one another in form, and, while they were definitely casual friends, Charlie couldn't bear to let him in. Sure, Nick knew Charlie was gay—hell, the entire student body of Truham did, as well as Higgs, the all-girls' school down the road, where his sister, Tori, as well as one of his closest friends, Elle. Although the notion of just knowing someone who was gay wasn't the same as being close friends, let alone accepting, of it.

Mr. Farouk, their form teacher, was nice enough, although he had a quick temper if you dared to break any of the rules. Charlie's favorite instructor was the kind-hearted Mr. Ajayi, whose classroom he would sit in during lunchtime, staring at his customary half-sandwich and apple, but not eating them. The voices in his head had slowly but surely been growing louder and louder for the past several months of wintertime, and his mother's family visiting during the holiday season certainly hadn't helped matters...

"When are you going to find yourself a nice girl, Charlie?" came Uncle Fred's voice, his mother's older brother.

Charlie grimaced at the memory of his mother shooting him a look across the table; he was never to discuss his sexuality around her family. Her parents were very homophobic, and while his father certainly didn't mind his sexuality, his mother never wanted to discuss it. So Charlie had merely shrugged his shoulders and moved the colorful assortment of food around his plate, giving a non-committal hum in reply, which his mother only begrudgingly accepted.

Tori was his only ally in the Spring household; she would frequently intervene whenever his mother was too hard on him, although Jane Spring would then turn around and chastise her for "undermining" her in front of Charlie. Tori didn't mind, though, as Charlie knew that she loved him as much as she could love anyone, given that they weren't permitted furry little friends to live with. Jane absolutely despised dogs and their scent, while Julio was allergic to cats; fish were too much work, according to Jane, and a rodent of any kind would likely escape into the walls and ruin the interior of the house.

Charlie's eyes snapped open as the bus halted on the street bordering both Truham and Higgs, before he shakily got to his feet and followed Tori, as well as the rest of the students, out. He was vaguely aware of Nick, plus some of his other friends—Christian, Sai, Otis, and Imogen, a pretty, lively girl from Higgs—hanging around by the tables outside. Harry Greene, another star player of the Rugby team, was mouthing off as usual, and Nick seemed perturbed; however, he and Charlie weren't close, so he didn't dare stop to ask him what was going on.

Charlie trudged through the stiff grass and onto the concrete, meeting Tao and Isaac, his best friends, in the courtyard. Tao was looking longingly towards Higgs, as he and Elle were a committed couple, and likely wanted to hurry to the library to get onto one of the massive computers to access his CB Simulator account to message her. Isaac, meanwhile, was reading The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks, a new Scottish author, so, while he looked up upon Charlie's arrival and greeted him, he, too, was distracted. Charlie wanted to say something, anything, but it was almost as if Tao and Isaac were dead-set on doing what they wanted, and didn't have any time for him.

"Still twenty minutes before form," Tao said desperately. "Come on," he continued, taking ahold of both Charlie and Isaac's arms and dragging them through the cold courtyard. "I have to message with Elle before class like we always do!"

Charlie followed like a ragdoll might, not saying anything; he was almost surprised that Tao hadn't commented on the notion that he seemed thinner than he typically did. He tripped over his own two feet as they entered the school and hurried towards the library, finally getting inside, and was only released when Tao saw his prize—a vacant computer. He watched as Tao dashed forward, sitting down and logging in, typing in the confidential information necessary to access the website and message with Elle.

"Looking forward to the weekend, Charlie?" Isaac asked softly.

Charlie shrugged. "It's Thursday," he responded, his voice monotone-like.

"You can still look forward to it, though," Isaac replied, his tone slightly concerned. "You're doing all right, yeah? You've been...quiet."

Charlie kicked his scuffed shoe on the ground, his entire body stiffening at the interrogation of his normally-quiet friend. "Dunno, really," he admitted, not altogether sure why, now that he had the opportunity, he was unwilling to talk.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Isaac asked.

Charlie nodded, although the movement was stiff. "Yeah. I... I know."

The voices around him slowly but surely became muffled, and it was almost as if the entirety of the world was suddenly forced into an echo chamber. Looking up, he made an excuse to Isaac, telling him to tell Tao he was going to head to form, before he turned around and slipped out of the library. He walked down the corridor, vaguely aware of talking and laughter from his fellow students, but didn't even look at any of them—he was just conscious of their bodies enough to get past them; he was on a mission.

He pushed open the door of the lavatory and didn't even flinch at the squeak as it flew shut behind him. The floor tiles were a pale blue, nearly white, and the sinks themselves were a pristine shade of white porcelain, mirrors stationed directly above them, with a soap dispenser between the pair, and a paper towel holder closer to the door. Charlie picked a stall at random and went inside, not even aware that he wasn't locking it, and sat down on the closed toilet seat, digging into his school trousers.

He stared at the razor for several moments, the sound around him still muted, as he drew back the sleeve of his coat, the other scars there on full display now. Charlie methodically opened the razor fully, the silver shade dancing off the overhead light, and bit down hard on his lower lip as he dragged it along the surface of his wrist. The red of his blood was a sharp contrast to the paleness of his skin, and it flowed beautifully, dripping almost rhythmically onto the floor below, making a lovely little pool of red dots against the pale blue of the tiles. He'd managed to hit the vein immediately, due to experience, and all was right with the world—

"Charlie Spring, what in god's name have you done to yourself now?!"

Charlie barely registered the sharpness of Mr. Lange's, his former form teacher's, voice as he was hauled up by his shoulder and dragged out of the bathroom. Paper towels were shoved into his hand while the razor was hastily taken away, likely for evidence, while the scratchiness of the school-administered paper towels were pressed down, hard, onto his wrist, likely in an effort to stop the bleeding. Charlie kept his eyes down, watching as the pale blue bathroom tiles changed into stogy-gray ones, and he was pulled by his fellow students, who whispered various insults as Mr. Lange pulled him past. The fuzziness was slowly but surely dissipating, but Charlie didn't even care, not even as Mr. Lange dragged him into Mr. Barnes', the head teacher's, office.

"Look what he's done now!" Mr. Lange was raging.

Mr. Barnes looked decidedly unimpressed. "See that you get yourself to the nurse immediately, Mr. Spring," he said, obviously in no mood to offer him biscuits, tea, or a kind ear. "You'll serve detention on Saturday; if this behavior continues, you'll serve consecutive Saturdays." He shook his head at him as he pulled a sheet of paper towards the center of his desk—it was a glaring shade of pink, almost as if Charlie were being sacked from attending Truham. "You'll give this to your parents this evening after school letting them know," he continued, pushing it towards Charlie, as if he had a disease and Mr. Barnes didn't want to catch it. "I expected better from someone like you, Mr. Spring..."

"It's always the quiet ones," Mr. Lange put in scathingly.

"Perhaps the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree in this family," Mr. Barnes said, his voice filled with disappointment.

Mr. Lange nodded emphatically. "Miss Spring is always pushing limits over at Higgs..."

"Yes. Quite a pity," Mr. Barnes said, shaking his head, before he shoved the paper at Charlie again, this time with a hint of impatience. "Get yourself to the nurse. I won't be writing you a pass to form, Mr. Spring. Go on."

Charlie retrieved the pink slip, while somehow managing to keep a good grip upon the bloodied paper towels, and hurried out of the office, and made his way to the nurse. He didn't cry; crying wouldn't do any good, he understood that, although he was completely shattered inside, for he just couldn't understand why deliberate cries for help always seemed to get him nowhere.