“I understand if you want to break our deal,” I muttered when I was calm enough to speak. “I’m not good company. You’ll just ruin your own life if you keep helping me.”

“I don’t care what people think,” Deon sighed.

“You should,” I said and turned to look at him, knowing awfully well how ugly I must’ve looked with my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“But I don’t,” Deon shrugged. “That’s why it’s so great to be me.”

I snorted and smiled a little. “Thanks,” I said with a tiny voice.

“For what?” Deon asked absentmindedly, following the instructions of the navigator.

“For this day. I needed a break,” I admitted. “You are scaring the hell out of me, but I still have all my books and no new bruises, so…”

“I can’t be that scary,” Deon said. “Why do people think I’m scary? I have never hit anyone who didn’t deserve it!”

“Well, you act like you hate everyone,” I said timidly.

“But I do hate everyone,” Deon said, and I felt relieved that he didn’t get mad at me for speaking so carelessly.

“And you’re not afraid to show it,” I muttered. “That’s why you’re scary.”

He looked at me shortly with squinted eyes before he turned his attention back to the road. “Still, I wouldn’t hit anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

“But I do deserve it…” I mumbled under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head.

I hadn’t even realized how stupid I truly was. I was practically braindead. The thing with the coffee machine… I couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee, and now I couldn’t give Deon simple instructions. I wasn’t thinking – I never did. Of course Deon would get frustrated with me, and eventually he would see it was fine to hit me.

I didn’t want to get hit, but I did deserve it.

“Is this your home?” Deon asked when he stopped the car.

I looked around and saw my house. The second Hell. “Yeah, this is it,” I muttered. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Don’t get used to this,” Deon said. “I gave you a ride because Sean was lurking by. And because you look like crap.”

“Thanks…” I muttered again and opened the door.

“I couldn’t care less about you – but you should go see a doctor. That coughing is really annoying,” Deon spoke.

“I wasn’t coughing,” I said and turned to look at him.

“Yes, you were. You’ve been coughing nonstop the entire day,” Deon said with a frown. “While you’re at it, you should also see a shrink or something.”

“A… A shrink?” I repeated his words, feeling horrible hearing him say that.

“Yeah, you know, a psychologist,” Deon said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m… I’m not crazy…” I mumbled, fighting back my tears.

“Not yet, but you will be if you keep bottling up all that shit,” Deon said. Then he had a small pause and sighed. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. Just friendly advice.”

“We’re not friends. And you hate me. Why would you care?” I asked quietly and tried to get out of the car, but Deon grabbed my arm.

“Now, first of all,” Deon spoke angrily, “don’t think you know me. And second, I’m not a douchebag. I might be the scariest and rudest fucker you’ll ever meet, but I’m not a douchebag.”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t like the way he was holding me. His grip was too tight, and his harsh voice didn’t help. All I could think of was all the times people had hurt me.

“Let go,” I asked quietly. I couldn’t even look at him when I continued with a whisper, “Please.”

Deon took a deep breath and released my hand. I saw him shaking his head.

“Fine – think what you want. I don’t care,” he spoke.

“Can I go now?” I asked, hating how weak my voice was.

“Just go already,” Deon spat at me, and I didn’t wait for another second to get out of the car and away from him.

He didn’t say a word to me when I shut the door before hurrying to the front door. The Mustang roared loudly when Deon hit the pedal. I could still hear the car in the distance when I reached the front door and searched for my keys.

When I remembered I didn’t have them anymore, I burst into tears. I just stood there in front of my home, crying my eyes out. I wasn’t even sure if the day had been the best or worst in months. Part of me wanted to trust Deon, but the other part was sure things would turn for the worse for me if I spent time with him. It was a horrible feeling. I was so desperate to have company that I couldn’t tell Deon to get lost with his deal. I hated myself for it.

I wished I was able to predict the future. I wanted to know if there was a good reason for me to stay alive. I wanted to believe things would turn out better for me, but all I could see was more darkness. If I died, I wouldn’t know what I was missing out on. Maybe it was a blessing. Maybe there would be only more pain in my future, and it would be for the best if I killed myself.

“Future…” I muttered out loud.

“Because I’m a fucking fortune-teller. And I can see a lot of pain in your near future if I don’t give you a ride.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why would you care?”

He didn’t. He just wanted to mess with Sean. But he did tell me to go see a doctor. He did say he wasn’t a douchebag.

I had no idea what to think about Deon. He was so… eccentric. No… That was an understatement. Bipolar was more accurate. He said he didn’t care about me, but he also told me to seek help, all in one sentence.

And I had to admit I was getting interested. It was a good enough reason for me to ring the doorbell in case someone was home. No one came to answer it, so I walked around the house, hoping Dad had forgotten to close one of the windows or maybe even the door at the back.

It wasn’t a surprise to find one of the windows wide open. Dad left the windows open so often I was amazed we didn’t get robbed every day. It was a challenge for me to climb in with my aching ribs, but I made it.

I didn’t bother to get something to eat before climbing up in my room and starting with my homework. There was no one home, so I had to use every minute studying before all hell would break loose again. I didn’t know why I bothered, but I guess there was still a small part in me that didn’t want to give up.

No matter what.

The rest of the day went by just like any other: when Allen came home, he started yelling at me, complaining about an empty fridge and the dirty house. I wasn’t even halfway through with my homework when he forced me to make dinner.

When dad got home, things didn’t get any better. He opened a can of beer and soon started yelling at me for making too much noise while he tried to watch the news. When I hurried out of the living room, I bumped into Allen, who gave me a sharp slap on my face.

“Why don’t you just die, you piece of shit?” he hissed at me. “We don’t want you here! Why can’t you just get that? The whole world would be happier if you’d rot away in some disgusting hole!”

I walked past him without saying a word. He didn’t like that.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, fag! I’m talking to you!” he shouted after me, and when I didn’t stop, he grabbed me by my hood and tossed me against the wall. I protected my head with my arms when he raised his hand. I cried when his fist sank deep in my stomach. “Don’t you fucking ignore me ever again!” he screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, Allen!” Dad shouted angrily in the living room. “I’m trying to watch the news, you ungrateful brat!”

“But Theo is–” Allen began yelling at him, but Dad got even angrier.

“Theo this! Theo that! If you can’t get along with your brother, then stay the hell away from him! You hear me! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Allen glared at me for a few seconds before releasing me. I stumbled away from him, fearing he’d still hit or kick me. I didn’t look back when I hurried upstairs and into my room. After locking my door, I pressed my hand over my burning stomach, trying to catch my breath, fighting to stay conscious.

Pain. Lots and lots of pain. I couldn’t even find the words to describe how much my whole existence hurt. I limped to my bed, but collapsed right next to it. I didn’t have the strength to get back up. I didn’t have the strength to even sit up on the floor.

“I can’t…” I gasped and lay down on my back. “Please… I can’t do this…”

But no one came to take me away from my life.