Kennedy looked in the mirror. He didn’t know why, knowing that it would only make him sicker. He hated seeing what he was. What he had become. Every time he looked in the mirror all he could think of were the names and the taunts. He hated it. He didn’t want to be fat. But look at him, he was fat and sweaty and ugly. He was fat and disgusting.
He looked in the mirror one last time before he got on his knees, bent over the toilet. He closed his eyes and counted.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine, ten
He shoved his fingers down his throat and felt the bile rise out of his throat and into the toilet.
Again.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Purge. His eyes were watery.
Kennedy stood up to look in the mirror; he lifted his shirt and smiled. He was getting skinnier every day. He was almost there…almost beautiful. He adjusted he pulled down his white undershirt and his black long-sleeved over shirt. He stood there for a while, just staring at himself. Until he heard his younger brother, Jared, yell,” Hurry up, fag!” ,those words were like a stab to the heart. Kennedy never remembered doing anything to deserve it. He answered his brother anyways,”I-I’ll be out in a minute!”
He pulled the left sleeve of his hoodie up, leveling with the first crease of his elbow, he sat on the floor of his bathroom .He wanted all the pain in his heart to go away.
Why was he so worthless? Why couldn’t he be normal? Why didn’t his family love him? Why was he so…so sick and disgusting? What was wrong with him?
Fag. Emo. Freak. Fatass. Loser.
He shouldn’t. He lasted longer this time. He’d gone almost a month without having to. Should he really throw it all away?
Just this once wouldn’t hurt anyone. His mother wouldn’t notice. His brother wouldn’t care. Just this once…
No one cared.

Avery had never seen anyone with so many scars before. He’d walked in, his head bent down low, Eyes set on the floor, during first period world history. His face was covered with a black hoodie and a large sum of hair.
Ms.Becks, their world history teacher, made a face when he walked in like he wasn’t fit to be in her presence, like he was trash.
The boy stared timidly at his shoes and never met his Ms.Becks gaze once.
“Who are you “, she barked.
“I’m a new student”, he whispered.
“What? Speak up so I can hear you!”
He gulped, “I’m a new student” he said louder.
“What’s your name then?”
“Kennedy Hayes, ma’am”
“Alright then, find a seat.”
He nodded.
He sat at the very back of the room next to me, trying to hide from prying eyes.
He put his head down on the desk.
“Mr. Hayes!”
His head shot up, fear in his eyes.
“Move the hair out of your eyes and take off your jacket.”
She paused for a moment
“and spit out your gum”
He gulped and slowly he did what he was told.
He stood up and spit out his gum in the trash then swept his hair out of his eyes, his hoodie still on, over his face.
“Mr. Hayes take-off your hoodie.”
He shook his head, “I can’t” he croaked, looking down at the floor.
“Why not?”
He seemed to sink into himself, “I have..scars”.
“That’s no excuse! I want it off!”
“why?”
“It’s school policy.”
He gulped.
“NOW!”
He flinched, still standing at the front of the class, his eyes never leaving the floor. He stood there in silence for a while, somehow looking beyond the class, through the wall momentarily. Then he began to take-off his hoodie, staring at his feet all the while. He gulped and let it fall to the floor.
The whole class stared in silence. There were scars everywhere. All over his arms and shoulders. His wrists were wrapped with bandages, stitches along the side of his left cheek, and small little holes around his vein on his arm. The whole left side of him was bruised and battered. His hair was moved to the side far enough that you could see the black eye he bared. There were long, ragged scratches down his cheek.
He picked his hoodie back up and walked to the back of the class without a word. Ms.Becks didn’t bother him anymore. Not even when he put his hoodie back on or even when he fell asleep in class. After a while she thought she heard him crying in his sleep.
When the bell rang he was still asleep. It was Avery’s job to wake him. Someone had to care about him, right?