Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

I keep my eyes focused on the linoleum tiles beneath my shoes, careful not to step in anyone’s way in the crowd of students that are returning to their school day after lunch. I do not know the people around me; most of them are a year or two younger than I am and I do not share classes with the rest. The cafeteria do not really lay in the area where the seniors at Oakley Hill Secondary School have lessons. Rarely anyone my age bother to mingle with the freshmen and juniors. I cannot wait to graduate; there is really nobody to talk to in this place, not after my best friend moved from England to live a year in France.
“Hello,” he says in a neutral tone as we walk past each other in the hallway. It is crowded, and people are talking loud – I barely hear him – but I am sure he said it to me and not someone else. He snatched me right out of my trail of thoughts. Not only did he say something, but we also had eye contact for a split second. I know who he is; we have physics together and once our social science classes merged for a school trip. He is one of those who always sits at the back, never paying attention to the teachers’ preaches. However, it never seems as if he thinks he is too cool for school, he always shows up on time and never skips homework or tests. His grades are above average, and he is good looking enough to be quite popular if he wants to.
I throw a glance over my shoulder and see the back of his head disappearing in the crowd. We never talked before, I barely even notice him anymore as it only bothers me when I sit and take notes while he does nothing. Perhaps he was mocking me? I look down at myself, but cannot find anything out of place, although my clothes are not exactly fashionable. I keep on walking to my next class, but cannot concentrate. All I think about is the simple “hello” and that tiny smile, during the whole lesson. For some reason it cheers me up.
Then, while the teacher is talking about a movie we have seen called Pay it forward, I realise that no one use to say that to me. After I lost contact with my friend abroad, there is almost nobody that I talk to. That “hello” was the first time someone on the school said anything to me for a week or so. I wonder why he did it, though, why he said that to me but ignored everyone else. Was it intentional, or did he say it because I was in the way? Eventually I decide that at least I have to return the greeting, and decide that I will take the seat next to him on the bus, which is always empty.
I spot him in the unusually crowded line, waiting alone for the bus to arrive as everyone else around him is chatting. When we step on, I make sure that I get the seat next to him. He glances up at me, then out the window. Heavy, wet snowflakes are starting to fall from the sky and trickles down the glass immediately after it lands. I get cold feet, and minutes pass. After a while, we are almost the only ones left on the bus. He looks at me sometimes, in the reflection of the window, yet we do not exchange words until we have reached the edge of the city.
“Are you not going off?” I ask and he shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips.
“I live not far from you, only I get off a little later.” he reveals, and gives me something to think about for a moment. I never saw where he got on before; apparently, I never bothered to offer him a thought as he sat in that same seat every morning. How could I not notice that he got on before me? I must have been blind, and ignorant.
“So… hello…” I say after a while. He laughs a nice, lowered laugh that does not intend to seem mocking, rather honest, and turns toward me.
“I knew that was why you came to sit here. I don’t see how such a small greeting would make that big a difference though.” His eyes are dark green, I notice, another thing I did not know about him. I wonder how he is like, except for the carefree attitude towards school.
“No one says that anymore. Everyone is busy with their phones or just skips that part of the conversation.” I mumble when nothing else comes to my mind and his expectant, as well as curious, eyes continue to focus on mine.
“That is why you suddenly decided that you should come and talk to me? Or did it just open your eyes to the fact that I take the same bus as you every day and go off just a few blocks away, and that it makes a perfect excuse to come and talk to me?” he grins at me, and I shrug. When he puts it like that, I feel bad about even sitting down next to him, and at the same time, I am happy that I finally did it.
“Yeah, I guess it is the first one.” Big lie, because if he had not said hello to me I would never have figured out that we took the bus together for this long on our way to and from school. I would have continued to sit a couple of rows ahead and never offered a glance in his direction. “It makes you that much more approachable, at least.” He nods in understanding and aims his attention at the back of the seat in front of him.
“So you’re saying I am threatening? Is it because I am Asian? Or do you not like smart guys?” he asks in a teasing tone, and raise an eyebrow at me, still with a silly smile on his lips. I have to laugh.
“No, that’s not it, not at all. You are far from threatening. I guess I mean to say that a hello invites people to talk to one. And when you said that to me, you made me want to talk to you.” I say, then narrow my eyes and make a grimace. “That sounds gooey.”
“At least I get what you mean,” he says, slouching in his seat and looking out the window. “And I think you’re right. People seem more approachable when they greet you.” I look at the swirling snowflakes outside, and the streets and houses covered in a thin layer of newly fallen snow.
“Why did you say it, though?” I ask.
“Do I need a reason?” he asks, I cock my head to the side and look into the eyes of his reflection.
“No, I guess not, but I was wondering since we never talked before. Why do you suddenly want to be friends?” I continue, sounding more persistent than I would like to.
“You seemed… down. You always do, ever since that other girl left. Therefore, I thought I would try to cheer you up, as I have heard a hello can do. Did it work?” he turns his head in my direction and smiles. I am stunned, out of words, so all do is nod.

Okay~! I'll post the next excerpt here soon so tell me how I can improve ^^

“Please, Thomas… Eat something.” She pleads. I stare at the bowl of soup in my hands; I am so weak that my muscles shake with the effort of even holding it in front of me. She made it with a few herbs and some meat she got from the citizens that helped her save me from the dungeons. She spent almost two weeks finding them and planning the raid to get me out of there. It’s not that I am not grateful, but I do not want to eat, I would rather she left me in the woods to get eaten by a pack of wolves. I would deserve that more than her concern. Now it has been half a day since I was freed by her, and I have not spoken a single word. I am afraid to do so, afraid that there is still enough serum in my system to make my vocal cords snap, even now, afraid that she would not accept an apology. The shadows in my peripheral vision still dances after the last terror-pill, and there are too many insects. I jump and slap my arm when a mosquito stings me, spilling scorching soup all over me and sending a jolt of pain through my arm where I hit the wound from the wires. She doesn’t say anything, just meets my eyes through the fire. I am the first to look away and desperately tug at my sleeves to hide the network of veins that were exposed by the wire; they do not seem to fade…
I stand up, turning around and walking away from her, from the food, from the safety of a bonfire and from weapons to keep hungry predators at bay. Stumbling into the darkness my feet are quickly injured to the point of bleeding by stones and twigs, and rotten leaves stick to the bare soles. Only a few beams of silver moonlight fights its way through the woven branches above my head, lighting my pathless journey. At first I think she’s not following me, that she is clever enough to leave me to die, and my eye fills with tears. But then I hear her steady stride not far behind me, as silent as an owl hunting down its prey. I am moving east, not going closer to neither Raggfjell nor Tyrimheim, and I’d like to do so until my feet are torn to shreds and my energy has ceased. Her hand on my shoulder makes me halt; its warmth is intense even through my shirt. We are in a clearing where the moon is no longer obscured and we would see each other clearly. With her hand still resting on my shoulder she walks around me and stops in front of me. I realize all of a sudden that she is not used to seeing me with only one eye, and I turn my head to the side to hide the long cut that sliced my face from forehead to collarbone and stole my eye.
She gently brushes the cheek I turn toward her and I jerk back, closing my eye in shame when she looks at me with wide, worrying eyes. I was badly beaten shortly before she saved me, and terrible bruises are spread all across my body, I’ll be sore for weeks. She takes a step closer to me and when I don’t step back she charges into me, pushing me probably with all her force, on the ground. I let out a whimper and scowl up at her.
“Don’t you dare leave me!” she whispers furiously. I look away, at the ground next to my hand, and shudder in the cold air. She fiercely wipes tears from her cheeks and reaches me a hand to pull me to my feet. I don’t want to take it; instead I lay down on the moist forest floor, looking at the moonlight attaching silvery edges to every leaf above me. The air smells of moss, earth and rotting leaves, while the cold breeze makes it possible to predict an upcoming snowstorm. I am soaked in a matter of seconds, starting to shiver as the cold creeps into the core of my body. In the corner of my eye I see her take off her jacket before throwing it over me as the protective, strong, young woman she is. She leaves, and I curl up under her jacket, breathing in her scent and remembering the last time we slept together, in the terrorists’ warm cabin.
“Are you still able to shoot a bow, even without your eye?” she asks and I jump out of my shallow sleep. I didn’t hear her approach, I must be too tired.
“I guess…” I answer slowly, and look over my shoulder as she lies down with her back against mine, covered with a woolen blanket.
“We’ll find out tomorrow, now sleep. I assume you’ll eat something tomorrow?” I lie facing away from her and stare into the forest ahead of me. It is pitch black and the only thing keeping me from covering in fear, must be her, because I did not possess this courage in the dungeons. Scared of the dark, such a foolish thing for a northlander to be when there is more darkness than light where I come from. I managed to hide it, though, no one but my mother knew, and until I was dragged down into those dungeons I thought that secret had died with her. “At least breakfast…?” she seems hopeless, but she tries. It means a lot to me that even after all I had her go through because of my egoism; she still loves me in some way or another. What she doesn’t know is that I’m not sure that even if I tried to force something down, I’d be able to contain it.
They did so much to me the few weeks I was trapped, torturing me whenever I was awake and waking me whenever I fell asleep. One of the things they tried was to make me intolerant of prepared food; filling whatever baked, fried or boiled meal they gave me with a highly effective vomiting agent. It went nine days until the meal I was given was entirely out of simple, raw meat that I was too hungry to resist, and when I didn’t throw it up again I taught myself to accept the provided nutrition. What she doesn’t know is that I have not eaten well, not slept at all, not even spoken, in four days straight. I am not sure if I can change my rhythm and go back to how it used to be as fast as she seems to think I am capable of. Why would someone do what I have been subjected to against somebody? They didn’t even ask me about anything, never had a real interrogation. The only thing they needed was the words of a few men to get a reason to break me apart piece by piece.
“S-sure…” I whisper quietly.