Melody-Eloise

'And shut the door when ya scram out mongrel!'

Carefully closing the door as I made my way outside with my backpack in tow, I sighed, my heart clenching slightly whilst listening to the stream of cusses flow out from Joe's mouth.

Some feelings could not even be suppressed. Words are like daggers, they have a technique of twisting and turning the pits of your heart.

Goodness me, I am unbelievingly corny sometimes.

As I toss the helmet away from my bike, old man Peters puts it there for a reason I don't know why. I think to myself what needs to be doing and done. Joe will have another beat Melody-Eloise till she's black and blue fest or else Rex doesn't get dinner move if I don't pick up the right brand of whisky he's after.

Then the cyclical cycle- Coleridge much? Nice one Melody- Eloise , repeats itself. I am not ashamed of my life, yes I am aware others have a better quality of it. But I am relatively undecided on what to make of myself, Joe and practically everything.

When people says it's a human inclination to judge, you would normally agree with it. I bet my twenty three bruises that people judge me. And, I fail to be Christ like but I do not judge them. In fact, in order to be at peace with someone I'm sure you must judge them. But I don't judge them. I can not.

I can't even call myself a freak of nature because it's not possible for me to even judge myself. There's nothing medically wrong with me as far as I know. When my mother use to care, she took me to specialists. She wondered what was wrong with this little girl, but medical science is not God.

My diagnosis was anxiety. I say Bullshit to that- I like to call it some form of social mutation. People and me do not go well together. It's no wonder Joe beats me.

After realising I had just stood still for more than five minutes, I get a move on my bike. The only thing I feel relative compassion for is this mountain bike, no one uses bikes any more these days. They were popular till about 2020 then something happened and I'm not sure, my bike is the ancient classic like how the unicycle was back then.

And to think my day could not get worse. He turns up, that pretty boy with a scowl on his face looking like Satan's beautiful incarnate. You see, I'm judging him. Why him. Why not the crowd of girls wearing short skirts and talking with those football players that everyone calls 'bitches'.

He was staring at me and immediately I felt self conscious. The scars of my arms were hidden, so there was no active draw to me. I don't know how I look to others, to me I look like a girl with eyes hair and a mouth.

Most would say no shit Sherlock.

I see he's pulled away by a boy who looks strikingly similar for a minute I dwell upon if their related, or twins. Then I notice the slight difference is L'oreal Men's hair and conclude they may just be related, twins is too extreme.

'Melody-Eloise, love!' James comes and stands by me. Everyone has an assumption that James and I are a couple with his intimate body movements and touches. But we are not, James swings for his own team.

People just think James is too manly to be gay which is ironic considering how much gay movements have progressed since the start of this millenia.

'Let's get to class.' I say intertwining James' hands with my own, he swings his arm around me and asks me if I'm okay.

'Never better.' Is my pathetic reply, but James is aware somehow I'm a mask of lies.

'Seems the new kids got a thing for you.' He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows and I can''t help but laugh, which feels strange because laughter is sometimes a foreign concept, even with a joker pot addict like James.

'He looks like he wants to kill me. Which isn't really surprising is it, he could be the Joe of the future'. I muse, despite knowing 'happy go lucky' whilst rock out in my 'gothic' attire James does not like that type of talk. He may be the closest thing I can call a 'best friend' because he knows a lot about me and I am not on the brinks of some biological form of insanity because of him. I do not honestly know what would happen if James were not with me, living on with a hard shell seems like a legitimate idea.

'Let's not go into that shit, I'd quite like to tell you what happened last night.' And so, I listen intently whilst walking into english and ignoring the looks people give me and James, about his latest crush who went by the internet name of 007 and is dating someone else-which really sets James on the edge. What surprises me is that James thinks he's in love. Love. Love. Love. If there is anything I remotely have an intense, desire or want to judge is love.

You have just entered the world of my deepest, darkest secret.

I have experienced what hate, pity and empathy must feel like. Love, well even platonic love seems to be like debating the existence of God to me- is he there or not there? I shudder, and apologise to James for not listening to the rest of his 'love' rant.

Sometime through the English lecture, I can almost feel ice piercing the back of my head. It's the feel you get when someone's watching you. My bruises are covered, I made sure of that this morning and if anyone asks, I'll just say I fell.

Good one Einstein, a bruise as huge as that comes from falling. Well, it was partially true. The lunch hour comes more than needed, I like learning actually so whilst James goes to the IT suite- which is another rarely used room to catch up with the love of his life, 007 I find myself in the comfort of the back of the library. A secluded area, no one barely comes in here and despite the heat coming from the radiator- it feels good to feel something warm on my bruises apart from ice. So, cautiously I pull up the sleeves of my sweater and almost sigh at the sheer pleasure of warmth as a gust of hot air makes contact with the purple bruise on my forearm.

In this one hour of peace, I decide to read the the first Harry Potter book, watching the films made it pointless sometime when I was a kid to read the book. But after reading somewhere that they were very good, I decide to give it a go.

As I'm on the part where Harry starts talking to a snake, I jump up at the sound of a velvet voice.

'Do you have the book I let you borrow?'

Slowly, raising the book down I meet green eyes in a near enough ready to kill position. I almost coil away, but some force I don't know what tells me not to be afraid. I don't feel afraid. Ha! I'm paralysed with joy, wait- joy?

I smile.

'So, do you?' He asks again, softer this time before hardening into a stern line. But, I don't care. I'm not afraid. Remembering the book, wait was that his book? I thought it was the library's but he must need it back.

'Um, yeah here.' I dig through my backpack and find the book on Atlantis, a history of forgotten people and hand It over to him. My happy bubble bursts in fright when I see his lovely eyes scan over my bruised arm in the process.

Bruises are bad. Don't let anyone see. Bruises are ugly.

The chants continue in my head, and I yank my arm away but he stops them at an inhuman speed. If anything I can judge, I know I am not stupid. That reflex was too quick, I should know because the reflexes of Joe are not even so quick.

'What happened?' He hissed, actually hissed like the snake in Harry Potter, and the books tumble to the floor. Both of us ignore it. He's hurting my hand, the bruises are aching even more. After what seems like an unnatural eternity, he releases and mumbles sorry.

'Apologise properly.' I say, feeling fearless again. I am strong, I feel good. I would never tell Joe to say sorry, for the second time today I almost laugh. Telling Joe to say sorry is like telling a rattlesnake not to bite by dancing around it.

'I said sorry once, and I am truly sorry again. What happened?' I ignore his question and rise out of the plush chair, pulling my sweater sleeves down.

'What do you want?' I ask, quietly. He would surely want to seem like a good Samaritan and tell someone to help me, add a boost to his demeanour. I bet he wants the girls wearing shorts skirts and who everyone calls 'bitches' to crawl into bed with him by showing his compassionate side. And yet, I make a startling discovery- not only do I not fear this aggressive boy but I also have an opinion of him.

I might just be becoming normal.

'Oh, I know you're type. You want me to feel sorry for this?' He raises my arm up and I yank It back down.

'No, I just don't want you to tell anyone. Please, it's not what you think. And, I'd love to know my type to be honest. I can't even figure myself out.'

I had no idea why I was confessing myself to this stranger, like a good catholic at mass but with an edge.

'Abusive relationships need to stop. If James D'uberville is uhhh... y'know...'

James?

'It's not what you think. Please, just promise me not to tell anyone' I practically beg with my eyes, I hope he can see the fear in my eyes. And it's not because of him, it is because I fear what Joe would do when the school phone him enquiring after my bruises. They already know I'm unnaturally quiet, this would be the icing on the cake for a bored social worker.

He still does not budge, 'Look, it seems bad but it will be o-'

I fearlessly cut him off 'I'll do anything.' My voice rises, almost a shout and he seems defeated. Yes, his eyes soften. Yes, he nods.

Oh thank my saviour yes.

AN: Hello my lovely readers! After taking more of your advice, as you can see Melody-Eloise is in the house! Yes, she's quite strange, lacks emotions where EJ's blindspots are and is generally quite disturbed. I would really love some feedback on her character, I really do not want her to be a girl who will always rely on males so she will become more independent through the story...and gah If I tell you anymore it will go onto spoiler alert.

Some lovely readers have been asking about Jasper's take on her emotions. (The next chapter, you shall see mwaaah ha ha ha ha. ha.) I'm funny, aren't I?

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