"You don't have a voice.
You don't have a name.
You don't deserve one.
I am the only Voice that matters."

~-~-~~-~-~

A boy walks down the hall. Head down. Shoulders bunched up around His neck like a safety blanket. Hands on the straps of His backpack. Never once making eye contact. Do they know what He did? Do they know what kind of person He is? Can they see through His smiles? Can they see through His lies? Do they know? Do they realize? No one does.

Dear Mama, Carla, and Ze-ze,
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry to all of you. I should have been a better friend, a better son, a better person.

"What's up loser?
Just another day and you're still the same piece of shit you were yesterday.
Nothing has changed.
Nothing will ever change you little scumbag."

"Please go away.
I just want to get through the day."

"What do you think?
That I'll just disappear?
That's not how life works idiot."

His hands shake as He rattles in the combination to His locker.

"God your hands are ugly.
You've done such terrible things with them.
Come to think of it so is the rest of you.
Ugly that is.
Suck in your stomach fatso."

And as the air is knocked out of Him, the boy does just that. A girl comes up to Him like she has every day since ninth grade. Always right at the beginning of school, before the first period.

If you're reading this, then I guess you're probably looking for an answer to explain all that I've done. So I'm going to give you one. I don't know if this is going to make any sense at all, but here it goes:

"You don't deserve her."

"I know."

He drops a textbook, fumbling for it as it falls to the ground. Pages of notes tumble out as He scrambles to pick them up. He barely remembers anything He wrote down, He only remembers the immense weight on his chest like an anvil that can never be lifted as He wrote as fast as His hand could go, simply so that He wouldn't fail.

I know I've done things to hurt you all. I know I've done things that I shouldn't. I know.

"You're stupid.
And clumsy.
You're ridiculous"

The girl rushes over to Him and starts helping Him gather the mess into a neat pile.
"Careful B. You would lose your head if it weren't attached to your body, and you'd lose everything else if I weren't here to help you," the girl laughs, her laugh pretty and gentle like the sound one would expect of a jingle bell.

"Hey, notice how Carla doesn't even call you by your name.
Man, your closest friend can't even say your name.
That's pathetic.
You don't deserve it though.
Names are for those who have done no wrong.
Letters and numbers are for prisoners.
You're a prisoner who simply hasn't been caught yet."

He elbows the boy behind Him as Carla narrows her eyes at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to do that!" He said. "Hey, it's all good man. Didn't hurt." the boy replied, unshaken.
As the other boy walks away Carla's expression returns to normal, and He looks inquisitively at her, though He isn't really curious about her reaction to the boy. He isn't curious about much these days. However, He can tell that Carla is hiding something.
"He said some mean stuff about Ze-ze the other day," Carla explained after much hesitation. She knew it was no use lying to Him. He just nods, feeling His stomach twist in knots about itself.

"You should have been there to protect him."

Carla pauses and studies Him. "You haven't been yourself lately. Is there anything you want to talk about?" she asks.

"Haha!
She's asking if there's something wrong oh that's hysterical.
Of course there's something wrong.
But you're not going to tell her that.
Why?
Because all you do is take take take from other people- you never give.
You can't take anything else."

But if you care- all of you that I love so dear, if you don't hate me- because you think I'm good- I must not be all that bad.
Yet I am. Oh, I am. I am all that bad.

He smiles tightly. "No, I'm fine." Carla raises an eyebrow at Him, a skill that He himself does not possess that Carla occasionally laughs with him about. He looks funny whenever He tries. He remembers this one time that Carla came over to His house, and when she had arched her eyebrow up like that He had been determined to do the same, so the two of them went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and within His first attempt, they were both laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. He really did look ridiculous. But that was then. This was now. He didn't laugh much anymore. Criminals don't have much to laugh at, especially not themselves.
"B, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. You know I'll always come to you if I have a serious problem." Or at least He used to. Carla nods slowly, still not quite believing Him, but lets it go.

"They always let it go.
They don't care about you."

"Carla does.
She cares.
So do the rest of them.
They're good people."

"Ah, you're right.
It's actually good she let it go.
You don't deserve pity.
You're just roadkill.
They would all be better without you."

"I know."

Is it lies- to keep me alive? Is that why you say I'm good- is that why you do what you do?
No.
You care about me. I know you do.

First period was passing uneventfully. It was chemistry, something He had been quite good at way back when. Actually, He had been quite smart, and quite good at a lot of things, but when you're a terrible person you have to worry about more things than just grades. His grades went from As to Cs within the span of a month. All the teachers looked at Him with concern, His friends and parents probably would have too if it hadn't been for the fact that He didn't tell them about his falling grades. He couldn't be more of a disappointment to them than he already was.
When He started coming to school with bloodshot eyes every day, long pants and sleeves even when it was hot, and less and less simple hygienical work done to get Himself ready for the day, however, the teachers started to feel less bad for Him. After all, He had done this to Himself. That's just what drugs did, and marijuana was especially common in His area.

But aren't I a criminal? Aren't I a bother? Aren't I useless? Not deserving to be with you? Can I not help myself? Always looking for verification? I would leave me if I were you. And yet you're all still here. You look at me like I'm something worth something.

"Here's the funny thing though B-523,
You didn't do any drugs."

"Why am I B-523?"

"Because I said so and you are what I make you.
It's your prison number.
You are my prisoner-
I own you.
Now let me finish.
It's rude to interrupt you know."

"As I was saying:
Drugs are the monster for some,
But you did this all yourself.
You are the monster."

"Stop it!
I'm trying!
I'm trying okay!"

"Are you though?"

The bell rings, and the room is filled with the noise of students packing up. B-523 winces at how loud everything seems. Every shining light is always too bright, every little noise makes his head throb.

"No."

I'm not. I'm not. I'm not.

***

A/N: Y'all I am so tired. So so tired.

If you liked this chapter please consider leaving a vote/comment and I hope to see you in the next part!

-Sunny <3