After all four of us have left the dean's office, the coach takes the word again
"Fine. Now you two better get it together, I don't want to find you two bicker like damn preschoolers again, got it? I believe the campus is large enough for you to not get close enough to beat each other down again, understood?"
From both Ben and me, he receives a 'got it' before he bids his goodbyes and leaves the spot, shaking his head in disbelief of our disrespect for our uncivilized behaviour.
Ben quits the scene with him and most likely heads straight to his buddies to tell them the newest gossip during a smoke break, leaving Rafael and me alone on our way to the health station.
I'd lie saying my heart doesn't still hurt whenever I look at him, remembering the freezing cold attitude he's shown me yesterday. Once he has unlocked the door with his master key and closed it behind us again, he dares to speak up after an uncomfortably silent walk here.
"What the hell was that all about?"
He gestures me to sit down on the bench, while roaming through the cupboards and shelfs all around the room to get some wet cloth and ice and putting on some sterile rubber gloves, sliding over to me on one of those rolling stool-thingies doctors often have.
"I don't know. Sorry about that", I sigh and flinch slightly when he uses the wet cloth to wipe the blood off my face.
I don't like being around him this way.
At all.
Even though he is doing nothing but help me, I can't shake this odd, yet terrifyingly familiar feeling of distrust.
The feeling that has been keeping me safe for the longest time.
"Can you keep a secret?" Rafael asks with a mild smile decorating his calm face, I nod. His voice is back to sounding low and tranquil.
"I'm not a huge fan of your dean. Seeing how he handles this situation just strengthened that thought," he whispers after looking around to check if nobody's near to eavesdrop.
His words bring a crooked smile to my face.
"You're right, but it doesn't really matter. He's always been this way."
My head lowers and my mind drifts off to a distant memory of mine, bringing me right back to the insensitivity I had to face when I first came here. The conversation regarding my parents' passing in this dark den of his should have never turned out the way it did.
I should have stood up for myself more.
If only I knew that back then, too.
"Is it okay if I disinfect the wounds for you?" Rafael informs me more than really asking, yet I nod regardless. Rafael pours some of the stinging liquid that took him a long time to find in one of the drawers onto a cotton pad and dabs it on the small bleeding wounds on my lip and nose.
Once he's done with his acts of aid, he gives me an ice pack for my bruises and a tissue or two for my nose, which has luckily stopped bleeding as much by now. According to him, it doesn't appear to be broken.
"Thank you...for everything," I utter hesitantly when he slips off the gloves once finishing the check-up.
"But why did you intervene? About the drugs, I mean," I continue after a short pause of considering my words very carefully. He turns around and sits back down on the chair, looking directly at me with a sigh.
"Just...don't worry about it, you're welcome. I have my reasons, and I can't just watch everyone side against you without question. That's simply not fair."
Since when does the injustice against me bother him, though?
Isn't he the one who's willing to rat me out even though he can probably take a damn good guess about how badly I need this job?
"By the way, please don't kill yourself. I'm serious, people like him are the reason why some students really go through with it. It's so, so bad how the educational system brushes off these sort of remarks. I know my opinion probably doesn't mean much to you, but for all it matters, I know you're not a terrorist. How long have people been saying stuff like that?" he questions and seems to actually give a shit about my problems.
His worry sounds so genuine, I hate how it comforts me.
"It's just Ben, and he's not usually fighting me like this. I'll be fine, it's just the injustice that's bothering me," I sigh, and he speaks his reply with a faint smile on his face.
"Well, just know that you're not alone. If you ever need anything, or you just feel like getting something off your chest, you can come talk to me anytime, both in here and outside of this college, alright?"
His words are so bittersweet, nobody has ever been 'on my side', let alone without even knowing me properly.
With a thousand thoughts racing in my head, I thank him and return the faint smile, slipping off the bench and walking towards the sink, where a mirror is mounted on the wall above. There, I wash my hands and fix my hair, looking at my burning wounds.
"That idiot really got a few good punches in, huh?" I hear Rafael's voice from behind me as he looks at me through the mirror.
"Yeah, but I'll be fine," I play it down and swiftly turn around to face him again. I don't like having my back turned to him, it only makes me vulnerable to whatever he could potentially be planning to do to me.
"I hope so. Now come on, I have one more session today, and I believe you have to attend some more classes to attend, too," he then chuckles softly and gestures me to leave the room with him.
"Well, good thing you got me out of my eco-class. Usually, I don't find good reasons to skip," I joke half-heartedly and follow him out the nurse's office.
"Not your favourite?" he asks as he locks the door and I make my way back to our classroom through the empty hallway, only looking back at him for a moment to respond.
"Nah, I care much more about biology, and your sessions are a lot more fun than these endless lectures."
The rest of the hours I spend on campus go by as if they're nothing, and everyone is back to disregarding me as if I'm nothing.
I'm fine with that, as long as I don't cross Ben's path again, or as long as they don't get fussy. The only thing that bothers me a bit is the growing pain in my ribcage, I've taken quite the kicks after all.
At least now people might fear me for being an alleged terrorist. I mean, I know Ben's a good talker and I know how fast rumors spread in this place when he's the one spreading them. Since I know that the fear is absolutely unreasonable, I'm fine with the idea of it. It'll all die down soon anyway.
Rafael stays on my mind all day, so much, in fact, that even Joe, who I encounter when delivering the money, won't let me stop thinking about what has happened.
"Damn, kid. Who messed you up like that? Does this have anything to do with that teacher of yours? You're not usually one to get beaten up," is the first thing he says to me while I give him the money, receiving a small bottle of clear liquid in return.
"Nah, just some asshole calling me a fag," I explain, not even mentioning Rafael. I need to make my mind up about him before I tell people about anything, especially Joe. With him, it's best to keep my weak spots secret. Joe will use any means of entry for attack he can get out of me.
"Well, he's right, isn't he? Still, good you defended your pride," Joe laughs and takes a drag from his cigarette.
"Even if, it doesn't matter. Either way, I got into quite the trouble for threatening to shoot him first and now everyone's convinced I'm a terrorist planning a school shooting," I rant.
Joe snorts.
"That's funny. As someone who has actually been to jail for bringing a gun to high-school and shooting someone, I can tell you that if you were someone like me, you'd certainly not give out a warning before shooting them," he replies, his words send chills down my spine. I know that he has a messed-up past, but I didn't know that he actually shot someone.
I don't dare ask about it, despite all the burning questions tickling my tongue. Who did you kill, Joe? How long of a sentence did you receive?
How the hell are you out of prison already, you asshole?
And why the fuck is the police not literally up your ass?
"Why'd you kill them?" I simply ask him in a cold voice instead, fearing for my own life on the inside. Who knows, maybe he plans to kill me and is just waiting for the right moment? I need to get away from him for good.
The sooner, the better.
"Oh, that motherfucker didn't even die, it was just two weeks in the hospital worth of damage. At least now I can tell you that it's not even close to being as rewarding as I had imagined. So, friendly advice, shooting someone is not worth being sentenced to prison. Trust me on that one, kid.
Yeah, I don't exactly have the urge to kill anyone at the moment, so thanks.
Also, let me just pause for a moment. How in the world is this paedophilic maniac out of jail? What did he tell the judges that they didn't give him a life sentence? Or is he really that closely related to the mob that they cleared things up for him?
What the fuck?
"Alright, I won't. By the way, how much do I still owe them? I kinda lost track a bit, sorry. I haven't done the math on the records I'm keeping for some time now, so I thought maybe I could ask you for a quicker answer first," I ask him about my debt so I can finally change the subject.
Sticking with the other one might only give him stupid ideas that could potentially end lethally for me.
No way in hell I'm risking that.
"You're almost done, Elijah. I've been meaning to tell you, but I've always missed the opportunity. Can't tell you exactly how much it is right now, but it can't be more than a month worth of delivering. Congrats, kid. You've actually almost made it, I'm really proud of you."
Wow, that is less than I've imagined. I'm almost there, almost debt-free for the first time since my parents died. Those really are some good news, maybe it'll all turn out okay after all.
The feeling sadly doesn't last.
My hands begin shaking and sweating for no apparent reason, I need to stay focused. There's this deep, internal pain again, this fear of something completely irrational.
See, ever since my parents have died, I've dedicated my life to keep my siblings safe. What if they won't need me after I've paid off our debts? What if I don't mean anything to them anymore? What if they leave me too?
What purpose will I serve in their life, if we have everything?
Money, an apartment, food, safety.
What will they be needing me for?
What if they stop appreciating me eventually?
My thoughts make me sad. It feels terrible to accuse them of such actions, but they mean the world to me.
And now?
Now I'm stooping low enough to begin doubting their love for me.
Sure, we've all grown up to be survivors, but we've always been a team. I'm just afraid that we'll lose our bond once our lives are okay for once.
"That's great. Thank you so much for managing all of that for me, I really appreciate it, Joe," I tell him and stare into the distance, my thoughts being solely with my siblings.
Why do I always doubt all the good things that happen to me?
"You're more than welcome, kid. You know, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't know what services you'll pay me back with," Joe resumes and snaps me back into reality, ringing all my inner alarms at once.
Now I need to act quickly enough for him to let me go before he talks me into following him into this fucking trailer.
"Of course, you know I'm good at what I'm doing. It's just that I'm in a bit of a hurry today, I need to cover up those bruises, don't exactly need the kids to notice. But thanks anyways, Joe," I excuse myself and leave the scene swiftly before he gets the chance to continue bribing me into intercourse again.
It's only after I've put on some makeup that I'm letting myself breathe again. Exhaustedly, I drop onto my bed and take a few extra deep breaths to clear my thoughts. Shit, I really need to pull myself together, it was so unlike me to start this fight. I really cannot be bothered getting kicked out of college now, and I definitely cannot afford being charged with assault if the dean decides to get the police involved.
By 5:30, my two precious siblings are racing each other to the door of the building we live in. From the kitchen window, I watch the bus drive away and begin smiling to myself as they hop out of the bus and begin running.
When they enter our apartment, I laugh audibly while my sister comes running up to me and throws her arms into the air, pretty much commanding me to catch her. So, I crouch down and let her run straight into my arms so I can hug her tightly.
"Hey there, guys. How was school today?" I ask and let the youngest down to the ground again so she can go wash her hands before dinner.
"Pretty cool, actually. Mara's back at school, too," Sasha informs me.
"That's good to hear, buddy. I hope you behaved well," I chuckle, just because I like to watch him cringe at my words while I bring the food to the table, waiting for Daisy to join us.
"Aww, don't you want to eat more?" she speaks her disappointment when she notices the lacklustre amount of food on the plate in front of me.
"I'm sorry, honey. I already had some before you two come home."
I lie.
It feels so terrible to lie to her.
"Oh, alright. But it's very good," she responds and chews on a piece of chicken. I tell her how glad I am that she likes it and take a sip of my glass of water. After eating, we clean the dishes together and I rest on the sofa while Daisy's writing her homework.
"Eli, why is a pencil called a pencil? I mean, there's pens, but what is 'cil'?" she questions me out of the blue.
I frown.
Well, that's such an oddly specific question that I don't even know how to possibly answer.
Now wondering about why pencils are called pencils, I exclaim with my eyebrows furrowed from the confusion, "Uhm...I'm not sure about that, honey. I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you right now, but how come you ask me that?"
"I'm doing my English homework and we have to spell words in cursive again, like 'pencil'," she replies and shrugs her shoulders. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in that ridiculously intelligent little girl's mind.
"That sounds nice," I miserably try to motivate her and cheer her on. As I shift around on the cushions to lie on my back, I feel a sharp pain on the right side of my ribcage and hiss in pain, instantly checking Daisy's reaction.
Luckily, she's still too deeply focused on her English homework to notice.