Etched

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone from Big Time Rush.

You walk down the hallway, holding your head down. Books pressed against your chest, feeling the sharp edges of your much doodled on folder dig into your forearm. You can feel their menacing eyes piercing into your skin, but you attempt to ignore their stares. Then the whispers start, and the memories of what you're suffering are thrust right back into your mind.

They were your best friends, starting from the day you met back in pre-school. You all joked around in class, annoying the heck out of all your teachers for some many educational years. You entered middle school this year, ready to enter a bigger school and find new adventures.

By the time you entered April though, you didn't think you be trapped in a hell-hole.

It started in September. You and your friends had been put into the same classes, which put a smile on your face. Things were fine…for a while. But entering a new school began to change your long time friends. New people were in the mix, and you could silently sense them tearing apart the seams of your well sewn friendship bonds. You let it happen. You were just praying that these new faces would just leave you and your friends alone.

They do in November. After two months over worrying that you would be friendless in school, it finally ends. The people you thought who could destroy your friendships actually end up becoming your friends. You all get along great. It was like nothing had ever changed.

A month later, right at the beginning of the month, you watch as one of your friends is kicked out of the group. The new kids didn't like him, so he was kicked to the curb. You say nothing. In a choice of one versus six, excluding you, any person would pick the six. So you watch with an aching heart as the boy who was once your friend try to find is footing in a strange world of no friends. Your only thought? Thank god that wasn't me.

But you have no clue that you would be the next to go. The boy who was kicked out is made fun of by the other five. Loser, dork, stupid idiot, are just a few of the things they call the friendless boy. One day, in the middle of the cold bitter January, you can hear him crying. You want knock on the cold metal door and comfort the boy who had once been your friend, but you can't risk getting kicked out of the group. So you just run your hands under the cold water of the sinks, dry your hands with a scratchy paper towel, and leave the bathroom without muttering a single word.

It's February when a foreign cycle starts. The kids who are supposed to be your friends begin to hit you. It's playful and funny in their heads. But you are left with bruises littering your arms or legs. Again, you silently take it. You laugh it off, acting like nothing is wrong as your skin and bones pound inside and outside.

But they don't just hit you. They basically put you under this bright blinding light and strip you down, finding every flaw of your body to make fun of. Up and down, up and down is how their eyes go every single day. "Why do you dress like that?" Is one of the common questions you receive, along with "Why are you so god damn skinny?" or "Have you ever even kissed anybody or hooked up?" Every part of your personality is picked apart and considered wrong. You're weird, odd, and so many more.

You begin to question yourself. Am I weird? Am I odd? Why am I so skinny?

So you decide to change. Your about two months into you're the teasing and hitting, which are becoming more violent and harsh as the days pass away. You become in one day, dressed differently and hoping to show your friends that you can fit in. Their responses? "Oh, so this is your attempt?"

Your friendship with these kids is like being on a boat. Originally, there was seven members in the crew. Then one was thrown overboard. Things were fine for a month. Then this giant storm began slowly rolling in, and you were oblivious to it. You watched the dark clouds come closer and closer, and the entire time you thought the storm was just going to pass.

Now though? You're in the middle of the storm, and it's not the eye of it. It's the raging part, where thunder and lightening cracks so much that it even can make a grown man want to cower in fear. At this point, you're slipping and sliding all over the wet deck, pleading for somebody to grab your hand and help you get onto your two feet. If this storm doesn't stop or if somebody doesn't save you, your going flying over the railing.

The day where it all crashes and burns has comes. You don't understand what is happening until your sitting in the middle of gym, single tears rolling down your face. The five kids who you thought were your friends are sitting their, sharing snickers and taunting you to your face. They thought you were ignoring them. You tell them you weren't. "Whatever." Is what the ringleader says.

That three syllable word is what sends you flying over the edge of the boat and plunging head first into the deep dark ocean.

You're drowning. Flaring your arms around, gasping for air as the strangling waves rise up and slam down on top of your head. You go under, them come back up, screaming for help. And what do the kids you thought were your friends do? They stand at the railing of the boat, laughing and taunting you as you struggle to stay afloat.

Their words are so vicious. Jerk. Loser. Freak. Waste of time. These are the things you are called. It isn't to your face like before though. It's behind your back in the middle of class, but loud enough so you can hear them taunting you. You want to curl up into this ball and just disappear from the hell-hole. But you can't.

It carries on for days. Your teachers become worried, asking if you're okay. You give them a closed lip smile, followed by a nod of your head. They force you to eat lunch with a guidance counselor and make sure you are entering a depression or becoming suicidal. You feel safe for the time being in there, but then the thought of entering the hallways seeps into your head, and panic sits in your chest. The library becomes a sanctuary to you. You hide out in the last row on the left, towards the back. You flick through books, not caring about the words printed in their fourteen sized font. Besides, the words are impossible to read through your blurring tears.

You bit your quivering lip as you walk towards the library. Your bullies are heading to lunch, while you are once again hiding in the library for the forty five minutes with a grumbling stomach. Once their words can't reach your ears and they can't see the front of your face, you bring a hand up to your face and wipe away the falling tear.

The librarian at the front desk looks up at you when you approach the front desk. She recognizes you from a few days ago when you came in.

"Project again sweetheart?" She asks.

"Yeah, it didn't finish it completely the first time." You lie. She lets you sign in, and right away you take off towards the last row on the left. Setting down your book bag, you sink to the floor, feeling your hands come in contact with the carpet. You let out a sad sigh, followed by a sniffle. Grabbing a random book, you flip open to any page and try to block out the words you just heard.

Voices fill your area. Panic rises in your chest. What if it's them? You think. You begin to hyperventilate at the thought of them finding you.

"Hey, you okay?"

You open your eyes that you didn't even realize you shut. You can't even answer as the sobs begin to rack your body. The green eyed boy who was in front of you doesn't say anymore. He pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shoulder. This stranger is comforting you, and you should pull away, but you can't. All your built up emotions are just pouring out of you.

"What's your name?" The green eyed stranger asks as you finally pull away, sniffling and furiously wiping at your face. You open to speak, but a strangled sob escapes you before you can.

"Kendall, that's Carlos Garcia." A brunette boy who is standing behind the green eyed boy whispers softly. "You know the one Sam is always making fun of?"

"Oh." Kendall breathes. You looked at him with red eyed. Everybody knows what a loser you are, You think.

"Its messed up what their doing." A raven haired boy says. He takes a place next to Kendall, looking you in the eyes. "Sam is just a jerk. Pay no attention to him."

"Logan's right." The brunette says. "Kid is bound to end up a dirt bag anyways."

"Thanks." You choke out.

"I'm Kendall." The blonde boy says. "This is Logan and James. We've been seeing what Sam and all his friends say about you and did to you this entire school year. It's really not cool. Tell you what. You come sit with us in lunch tomorrow, and show those jerks that you are so much more braver than them."

Logan and Kendall stand up off the floor. Kendall holds a hand out for you, gesturing for you to take it. With a real smile, not a fake closed lip one, you take his hand. And in that moment when your tan skin makes contact with his paler skin, all the bruises, all the words that had felt like they had been etched into your skin, fell off you.

Looking around at the three smiling sixth grade boys, you can practically feeling the after sun of the storm shining down on your once frigid skin.

Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

So you all have been wondering where I have been, and the answer is right here in this one shot. I'm going through a rough time, and just haven't found it in me to sit down and write lately. I just ask all of you to give me some time, and I swear I'm trying to get back on my feet. All I ask for is a little time, and when I come back, I swear its going to be great.

Until then, I love all you. You guys are awesome readers/reviewers. I'm not going on a hiatus or anything. I will try to be getting the next chapter of Man on the Moon up in the next week or so. Don't think I have just forgotten my stories. Just give me a little bit so I can make the next chapter awesome, okay?

Again, you guys rock.

-TheRescuer2