I'd already been having a shitty day.

It was hot as hell, even in the shade. I was kicking at a rock with the side of my shoe as I headed down the breezeway, hoodie sticking to the back of my neck, backpack half-open and dragging. I didn't care enough to fix it. I was probably gonna lose all my shit before I even got to the fence.

School had been out for a while. The parking lot was almost cleared. The only people still wandering about were students looking for rides and athletes getting ready for practice, as well as a few teachers.

The smell of old gum and burning concrete clinged to the air, and all I wanted was to make it to my car. Blast the AC, maybe find something in the bottom of the glovebox to eat before my stomach ate itself.

I was in this weird purgatory, this limbo where I had just turned eighteen and was still figuring out what to do with that. Well, no, I knew what I was doing. I was dropping out, but the principal still hadn't gotten back to me on my paperwork or any of the legal shit—my parole officer wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of me destroying my future for no reason, as he so eloquently put it—so I was still stuck attending school for a short time.

I hated it. I wasn't looking at anybody. I had my headphones in, but my phone was dead—it was mostly for show. So people would leave me alone.

Unfortunately, a group of three senior boys up a small hill didn't get that memo.

"Yo, Crenshaw!" I heard, and he had to say my name two more times for me to finally stop and look at the owner of the annoying voice. I tilted my head to the side, unimpressed as I dragged my gaze over to the group.

The guy who was talking looked vaguely familiar, but not important enough for me to remember a name. I might've sold to him before or something. He was pointing at the scene behind him, where his two friend's focuses were directed instead.

And that's when I saw her.

She had these big dorky glasses on, a blue sweater, and a large backpack. She had a stack of books in her arms and these little yellow stars on her cheek, which I instantly recognized as pimple patches. Solid dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, which she would later bleach blonde because of a new favorite cartoon character.

One of the guys knocked the books out of her arms. She flinched at the action, cowering even more when they all began to laugh.

I was already changing direction.

"Come on!" He shouts anyway, though I'm already drawing near. "Did you know they let pigs go here?"

They all laughed at that, the girl crouching down to pick up her fallen items. Her hands were shaking, her whole body was, and they were all making oinking and snorting noises at her as she did so. Because I guess being pudgy meant she was no longer allowed to be treated like a person. Unfortunately, shit like this was hardly uncommon at this godforsaken hellhole.

I thought she was beautiful. That sentiment only grew as I drew near, watching one of them kick a book away from her, right as she was going to grab it. I finally reached in front of them, and I could see her way better now. More detail.

Her eyes were watery, her face blotchy, tears streaming down her cheeks and her body wracked with sobs. Not only was she humiliated, she was scared. She looked helpless. She also looked way younger than them. Maybe a sophomore or a freshman. Which—I was a sophomore too, I was just also supposed to be in the same grade as these douchebags.

"Fuck off," I told all three of them, and I meant it. I leveled them all with a harsh gaze, jaw clenched, trying to remind myself to behave.

Then again... what was the worst that could happen? The fuck is the school gonna do if I put these assholes in a morgue, expell me?

The girl looked up at me as soon as those words left my mouth, and I met her gaze. She was still in tears, still a mess, but she also looked shocked. Like nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

As soon as I saw the girl's soft brown eyes, I was done. The situation was resolved.

They reminded me of her.

Images flashed through my mind. Beautiful dirty blonde hair and the same soft, kind brown eyes. Before it all went away, back when I was younger. When she still looked at me with love. When she was still able to feel anything besides euphoria or withdrawal.

Before her next fix became the only thing that mattered. Before I became second to substance. Before the end.

Back when she was still my mom.

I snapped.

"Oh my god, seriously? What's next—gonna tell me to pick on someone my own size? Cuz, guess what—"

I felt my fists clench before I made the decision to do so. My blood was rushing in my ears, and just like that it was all red.

I missed her so much.

Which, because it's me, translated into my fist landing on his face with a force that knocked him to the ground in seconds.

I was on him immediately. I did not let up, landing blow after blow on his face while his friends stood uselessly to the side for at least a solid ten seconds. Then, they started trying to pull me off. That didn't work out well for them—I felt like a rabid animal. Like a fucking sleeper agent, they said my trigger words and I lost my goddamn mind.

It was a shitty school. Nobody really cared what happened, as long as the cops didn't get involved. It took way too long for a teacher to come pull me off, only narrowly avoiding getting hit as well. She was able to get me away from him, though, and then she was snapping at me and the boys were running away, one having to basically carry their friend.

The teacher didn't get paid enough to give that many fucks, though, and then...

Winter and I were alone.

I was standing. Panting, out of breath, fists split open from his teeth and splattered with blood. It was even on my face, though I didn't get out unscathed. I had a few injuries as well, but nothing even close to what I did to that piece of shit.

Winter still looked terrified. I didn't help, it was obvious, and the optics didn't help—I don't know when or if I would have stopped if that teacher didn't get in the middle of it. Winter had every reason to still not feel safe.

So, I wiped my hands off on my pants, though it didn't do much. Then, I leaned down and started picking up her books. She was cowering against the wall, teary eyes wide in terror, borderline hyperventilating. Staring at me like she might be next.

I just sighed, eventually getting them all gathered up in my arms, though they were also now pretty covered in blood. As per usual, I just made the situation worse.

I held out the books to her.

Seconds went by before she finally took them, hands shaking. Still looking at me warily, and it was pretty clear I needed to go. I wasn't exactly making her feel safe, looking like I just murdered someone. So, after she had her books and was no longer being dehumanized, I stood up. Grabbed my bag, which still somehow hadn't spilled any of its contents, and I walked away.

I didn't make it far.

"Wait!"

I didn't think about it, I just stopped.

I heard hastily approaching footsteps, slightly clumsy and even hesitant in their rhythm, but they didn't let up. Before I knew it, the girl was standing in front of me, looking up at me with wide eyes. I couldn't discern much about her expression aside from intrigue.

She looked down at my hands, which were still dripping blood. My knuckles were all fucked up, but I didn't care. I wasn't even gonna acknowledge it until I eventually happened upon a restroom, or until I got to my car. I was already living in my car, I probably had some bandages in there somewhere.

"Can I see them?" she asked, and I obliged without thinking about it. Her voice was high pitched, but not in the grating way. It was sweet. Everything about her was so kind, so careful.

Then, the girl pulled out a bandaid. It had sparkly snowflakes on it, and she took the wrapping off, before grabbing a tissue out of a small package attached to her bag. Then, she dabbed some blood away and wrapped the small bandage around one of the worse cuts. One that lined my middle finger vertically, one that would really suck in terms of healing since it was on a knuckle.

She wrapped the pink sparkly bandage on it with care, handling my one finger with more gentleness than I'd experienced on any level in years. It caught me off guard.

"What's your name?" I couldn't help but ask, though I knew I should probably stay quiet. I just couldn't help myself. She glanced up at me, but couldn't make eye contact longer than a few seconds.

"Winter."

Winter.

"Yours?"

I don't know why I said it.

I don't know why I didn't just tell her Cren, or Crenshaw. Maybe because that's what her bully called me, maybe because it was obviously my surname. Something impersonal. Maybe because she was obviously asking for more than that. She heard him the first time.

Or maybe I just wanted someone out there who still called me by my name again.

"Des." I responded, and she gave me a small smile. Braces lined her teeth, though she'd get them removed within the next year after that.

Then, out of nowhere, her eyes went wide as saucers and her body tensed up as she seemed to remember something. "Shit! My dad's waiting. I have to— I'll see you..."

She trailed off, unsure.

I was just in shock. See me? She wanted to see me again?

"Tomorrow?" I supplied, even though I'd previously been planning on ditching.

She smiled again, giving my hand a soft tap. "Okay."

Then, she was gone.

It took a second for me to gather my wits, but I walked back to my car.

I didn't leave the lot, though. Not for a while. I just sat in my driver's seat and stared at my bloody, fucked up hands. At the pink sparkly bandage that somehow still felt like it was doing more than enough to hold me together, despite my extensive hand injuries.

I found myself smiling, a tug at the corners of my mouth I hadn't even noticed was setting in. It was small, but it was there, and I hadn't done so since...

Her mouth was open. Pill bottles surrounded her. Her eyes were closed, and at that moment I knew: I'd never see the warm, familiar honey brown of her kindness again.

I hadn't done so since before. Yet, here I was, smiling as I traced the sparkly snowflakes with my eyes, ignoring how it was becoming increasingly soaked in blood.

Winter.