Page 1 of Hold On

Chapter One - Then

Sebastian:

My body feels like it’s floating as I make my way to my permanent seat in detention. There’s a smile plastered to my face that isn’t usually there because normally I hate my life, which generally fucking sucks. Today started out shitty like all the others do. But I decided I’m finally ready to kill myself, so the day isn’t actually fucked like the rest of them.

It’s turned into agreatday.

It honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders because I’m able to say with certainty that I’ve made my decision and won’t be going back on it this time. It’s been heavy on my mind lately, seeing as my father’s abuse has amped up and my mom is more fragile than ever. I don’t want to leave her alone with him, but I fuck up every chance I get to protect her. So, what’s the point of sticking around?

I adjust the old guitar in my hands as I fall into the desk to my right. My body bounces a bit as my heavy limbs settle. I swiped a few of my mom’s pills to make it through the day and decided to take them right before lunch. That was forty minutes ago. I swear her valium is reassuring me that my decision to end my life is just fucking peachy. I feel somewhat giddy as I sling my guitar over my lap, plucking a few cords absentmindedly in my happy daze.

I’m in here so often the teacher doesn’t mind the music that accompanies me. He doesn’t even play his radio anymore, just lets me do my thing. Even when I don’t have my guitar, whichis rare, my fingers are still working notes out. They’re constantly moving and so is my mind. Always playing music, always hearing songs in my head. I’m really not that complicated. I’m either focused on music or survival.

I laugh as I miss a cord, something uncommon for me, the sound falling flat against my ears. “Everything alright, Mr. Cox?” my teacher asks from his desk at the head of the classroom, noticing as well. I just smile deliriously and nod. I know he knows I’m high out of my mind, but he doesn’t say fucking shit. Mr. Martin is cool like that. He gets that I’m just doing the best that I can.

Everything feels easier now that I’ve made my decision. My dad can’t hurt me once I die and maybe after my suicide, he’ll take pity on my mom, stopping her abuse. Doubtful, but it isn’t my problem now that I’m killing myself. It may sound harsh, but all I’ve been doing for the better part of my entire life is growing up way too quickly at the hands of that prick. My mother and I playing musical chairs as to who gets his fists first. So, forgive me if I’ve lost my sense of feeling called to serve out the shitty hand I was dealt now that I’m eighteen and legally able to make my own decisions.

I’m tired of this bullshit life.

I’vebeentired.

There’s a sound to my left, the empty desk next to me suddenly filled by a slutty blonde named Claire, whose father has her on a pedestal so high she’s been begging me to defile her and bring her crashing down since the start of the school year. She’s tried so many times to score a date with me, but I’m never interested. She’s shallow and would throw me under the bus the first chance she got if she knew the truth to my mystery. A fucked up kid who can’t keep his mom from being beat to shit, let alone himself. One who’s so fucking depressed he’s willing to end it alljust to get a break from the constant pain of existence. I know I’d become the next form of gossip to escape her mouth.

The echo of my mom’s screams are constantly repeating themselves in my head, as well as in my nightmares. I’m looking forward to the unending silence death will bring. And hearing Claire now isn’t deterring me from that comforting promise of quiet.

Not in the least.

I study her features, the valium making it much easier for me to be a judgmental dick. She’s not ugly, but her insides are. It’s a huge turn off. I’m not listening to anything she’s saying as I continue to gently play my guitar while glaring at her. She peeks at my fingers and swallows loudly. The girls are always looking at my fingers. It makes me laugh. There are rumors about my fingers that have nothing to do with how well I play music. Rumors born from the need to survive, not to please as they like to gush about.

“Bash, please. Just one date,” she begs desperately. I snort as she cringes a little but tries again. “I’ll pay foreverything.” She’s leaning forward into my space as I sigh in annoyance, stopping my strumming. Apparently I have to tell this bitch off straight up.

“I don’t want to fucking date you. I don’t care if you’ll suck me off after. You’ve got the wrong guy,” I say with a deathly handsome stare. Even in my rejection, she finds herself straining for more of me as her chest moves towards my body. I angrily snarl. “I’m not interested, Claire. And if I were, you certainly wouldn’t have to bribe me with a free meal. I know how to treat a girl I want to be seen with.” Not that I have any money to take anyone out. A free meal would be fucking nice. But I ain’t dating Claire for a fucking cheeseburger.

She pales a fuck-ton before turning bright red with embarrassment. I’m not sure if I imagine a squeak or not asshe scurries away, but once she’s gone, I return to fingering the strings of the guitar in my lap peacefully. Claire is not a nice girl. And I have no time for self-serving assholes today. Not on my last day.

Since most of my senior year has been spent playing catch up, I don’t really go to class like the other kids. I’m usually working on something that qualifies me to graduate at an accelerated pace, considering the amount of school I’ve missed due to my shitty home life over the last four years. I’ve never cared about school. I only care about music and making sure my mom is alright. And since I suck at preventing her abuse and my music is just a stupid way for me to disassociate, I’ve always figured as long as I got my GED someday, even if I had to drop out, I’d be fine in the long run. Even without anything to fall back on. I’d still qualify for a low-level job.

But I don’t need to worry about any of that shit now. It feels fucking good to sit here without wasting the time I have left on some stupid computer assignment.

I’ve made up my mind. I’m killing myself tonight. Again, I sink into the happiness that thought brings me as I think to myself,this is the best I’ve felt in a really long time.

Alina:

Detention is practically empty today as I lazily stroll into the room and hand the clipboard off to Mr. Martin. He smiles warmly at me as I smirk back at him.

“And what have we done this time, Ms. Timber?” he jokes with an amused look in his eye.

“I punched Scotty Craw in the junk for calling me blue balls,” I innocently reply, seductively batting my lashes coated in thick, black mascara.

“Knowing that kid, I’m sure he had it coming,” he says with a wink as I bow slightly at his praise. “But Alina.Blueballs? Do I even want to know?”

“As my teacher, I don’t want to scar you,” I joke back as he fists my detention slip from the clipboard with a playful warning look and gestures to the sea of open seats before us. Turning, I instantly spy Claire Daniels in one corner glaring at me. I immediately head in the opposite direction. I avoid that bitch at all costs any time I can help it. I hear her satisfied laugh as I roll my eyes. Dumb, fucking cunt.

I’m looking at my options on the other side of the room when I hear the most beautiful song from the back row and spy a boy I’ve heard of but never met in person. He’s sitting by himself, strumming his acoustic guitar. His dark brown hair is parted down the center and hangs to his shoulders in subtle waves. His jaw is stubbled, and his eyes are lost, like he’s seeing something no one else but him can see. I’m mesmerized by his gorgeous smile though. It stretches over his face easily and even though I’m pretty sure he’s high out of his mind on something, I’m drawn to him and his music.

My feet begin to move me forward.

He watches me as I close in on him, his grin growing playful as I approach his desk quietly. I tap the top of it once, gesturing towards the one next to him. “Mind if I sit?” I ask, like he owns the fucking room, though he obviously has some sort of sway on me to lure me in so easily.

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