They Say Times Are Hard For Dreamers
Peter picked himself up the next morning. He rose slowly from the cold tile, clutching the edge of the sink when his head forgot which way was up. He stuck his head beneath the tap and gulped in water until his stomach hung heavy in his abdomen. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened up, meeting his reflection’s eyes. They were tired and sunken, surrounded by skin that looked almost gray. As he raised a hand to prod at the hollows beneath his cheekbones, he knew that the shadows were too dark, the bones too prominent. His legs shook far too much, and the permanent blackness in the edges of his sight didn’t bode well for him. Somewhere deep within him, he knew he was getting close.
He turned to the door and tested the handle. Surprisingly, it turned. He guessed May wanted him to go to school. Or anywhere that was out of her sight.
He crept to his room, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw May’s empty bed, gathered his books in his thin arms, and set out for the nearest subway station, stopping to rest on every bench he saw along the way.
——
Peter was on time this morning. In fact, he was early. When Flash walked into first period algebra ten minutes before the bell to finish his homework, he saw Peter already sitting there, his head down and his whole body shivering in that same damn hoodie. Flash slowly slid into his desk, keeping Peter in the corner of his eye.
He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his binder. At the small noise it made hitting the desk, Peter lifted his his head. Flash froze as he blinked slowly, his eyes pointed Flash’s direction but unfocused, looking almost behind him. He furrowed his eyebrows, a misty confusion painting his face.
”Hey, Man,” Flash said carefully. Peter stared at him for a long moment, his brows furrowed as if he were still processing the words, then nodded. He buried his head back into his arms and went silent once more.
Thirteen problems in, the class bell rang and students slowly began trickling in through the door. Ned shot a worried look at his friend but said nothing, taking his seat on Peter’s other side.
The only time Peter woke up was when the teacher tapped him on the shoulder to ask for his homework. He fished a crumpled sheet of looseleaf out of his backpack and went back to sleep. Flash copied down the problems on the board without really seeing them, glancing at Peter every thirty seconds as if he would magically wake up and find cosine of theta. But that never happened. The bell rang, and as Flash packed away his notebook, Peter picked himself up and slunk out of the door.
Flash wished he could say that the rest of the day passed in a blur. The hours following would have been so much easier. But it didn’t; instead, time dragged by, going by slower than at his sister’s wedding. By the time the lunch bell rang, he could have sworn he’d been at school for the full day. He sighed in disappointment and made his way to the cafeteria.
He dropped into his seat, his tray of gray macaroni and limp green beans falling onto the table with a loud clat. As usual, his eyes made a beeline for MJ, asking the question his mouth couldn’t: is it time yet? And, as usual, a shake of her head answered no. He pursed his lips and turned back to his food.
Halfway through his watery meal, Flash watched as Peter trudged to his usual spot without a word to MJ. His plate was empty in less than a minute, and after finishing he stared at it with dissapointment, as if he hoped more food would appear if he simply held his gaze for long enough.
Ned approached the table, muttering his hello and setting down his extra pudding cup. Peter took it without looking and dug his spoon into the pudding. The second the spoon touched his lips, he stopped cold. Flash stopped chewing and watched, his head cocked to the side, as Peter’s eyes went wide and his skin went white. He muttered something to Ned that Flash couldn’t make out, then stood and left on shaking legs. Flash saw his breathing all but stop as he stumbled out of the cafeteria doors and into the courtyard. MJ immediately looked to Flash, and he started to stand. She shook her head so quickly it looked like it was vibrating, but Flash didn’t care. He was getting sick of this shit. He couldn’t keep going on like this, losing sleep over a boy he didn’t even like, dropping grades because he couldn’t pay attention for more than ten minutes before his thoughts drifted back to how Peter was right then. He stood abruptly, ignoring his friends’ questions. He stalked out of the cafeteria and into the building, turning corners on muscle memory alone.
He threw open every door he passed, broom closets and empty classrooms and teachers making our beneath desks. If he didn’t see Peter, he didn’t care. He pounded through three more classes before bursting into the boy’s bathroom. With nothing but the end of this on his mind, the idea of going back to a normal life where he wouldn’t feel guilty about tripping Peter because he no longer looked like he would shatter under a single fingertip, he followed the sound of pained retching to the last stall where, of course, he found Peter on his hands and knees, heaving nothing but air into the toilet bowl. He waited for Peter to stop dry heaving, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and sit back on his heels to ask, “What the fuck is going on?”
Peter jumped to his feet with a loud gasp. Flash’s resolve almost broke at the fear on his face when he whipped around to face him. But then the fear faded and Peter relaxed with a whisper of, “Hey, man,” and Flash knew he had to do this now or it would never get done.
”What the hell is going on with you?”
”What?” Peter asked with a weak cough.
Flash repeated himself, more insistent this time. Peter blinked. “Nothing,” he said simply.
“Bullshit. You know it is. You need to tell the truth before she kills you.”
Peter paled. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, eyeing the space behind Flash’s shoulder.
”I’m not fucking stupid, and neither are you. You know who I’m talking about.”
”I really don’t, I swear, I need to get back to lunch—“ said Peter, trying to push past Flash. Flash blocked him, and Peter was weak, so weak Flash could hardly feel him trying to slip out of the stall.
“I know what May is doing to you.”
Peter stopped cold in his tracks. His lips parted ever so slightly yet no sound came out. Flash could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to find an excuse, weighing how much to expose. He recognized the wide eyes, the furrowed brow from his own face not so long ago.
He hurried to continue. “And I know you’re scared, I was too, but we can get you out of there. You’ll never have to see her again.”
Peter blinked, his chest quickening in its movement. “That’s—I don’t want that. I want to stay.”
”Why? She’s abusing you, it’s obvious!”
”She’s not, Flash. She loves me, I know it.”
”This isn’t love.”
Peter seemed close to crying, now, furiously blinking away tears that still shone thick in his voice. “Flash, I swear to you, everything is fine.”
”Then why are you about to cry?” Peter didn’t answer, just stared at the ground and shook his head.
“It’s...it’s not what you think, I promise,” whispered Peter, but his wet eyes betrayed him.
Flash expected to feel pity for this tiny boy, but no. He felt anger. Anger towards May, for doing what she was doing, towards the adults who saw and did nothing, Hell, towards Peter for letting himself get hurt, as stupid as it was. He didn’t even think, he just acted. He grabbed the hem of the shirt that Peter had been wearing for weeks and yanked it up, but almost lost his grip at what he saw.
Bones and bruises. A torso so thin he could count ever rib, see the definition where the ribcage ended and the flesh took over beneath it. This wafer thin frame which reminded him far too much of the bodies he had seen in Holocaust documentaries in the seventh grade was not just a frame, though. The pale skin was littered with bruises. Varying shades of black and yellow and purple painted every inch of his skin, some pores dotted scarlet with fresh blood. Flash’s stomach twisted as he realized that the raised ridges of flesh that crosshatched Peter’s skin were not birthmarks or moles: they were scars. “Holy shit,” he whispered under his breath as the door behind him opened and loud footsteps stomped towards him.
”Flash, you fucking idiot, you...” MJ trailer off, and her footsteps stopped a foot or so behind his shoulder. “Oh, my God.”
For a moment, no one moved. Three people stood in a dirty boy’s bathroom, staring in shock at a waist barely recognizable as human. Then, MJ looked up and met Peter’s eyes. Flash followed her lead, and saw them dripping tears silently down his cheeks that Flash didn’t realize were so gaunt until this moment. “Peter,” she said quietly, as if trying not to startle an injured deer, “We can get you out of there.”
”No,” he mumbled, his voice shaking. “No, I can’t just leave her alone.”
”Is that what she’s saying to you? That without you she’s alone?” MJ prompted.
Peter continued on as if he hadn’t heard her. “It will get better, it always does. It’s just—it’s worse right now, but I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.”
MJ took a tentative step backwards. “Peter?”
“Please, I’m fine, just leave me alone. Just let me go home.”
Flash stepped forwards, blocking the doorway. Peter stumbled back. “We’re not letting you go back there.” He felt MJ’s hand on his shoulder, heard her say his name like a warning, but ignored it. “I know you don’t really want to go back. She just makes you think you do.”
”Flash,” MJ warned again as Peter started shaking his head back and forth relentlessly. Flash didn’t care.
“You’re being abused, man. I don’t know how you can’t see it by just looking at yourself. And if you don’t let us help you, you’re going to die. Do you understand that? If you stay there and let this shit escalate, you are going to die.”
Peter looked up at him and met his eyes. His blinked away his tears, and for just a second Flash thought he might agree and accept his help.
Then, his face still and neutral, he lifted a hand and slapped Flash’s cheek. Flash stumbled, shocked by how strong Peter still was, and fell into MJ behind him. She caught him in her arms with a yelp, then hoisted him back to his feet. He whirled around with a hand pressed to his stinging cheek, and saw the door shut, with Peter on the other side. He swore ran outside to the hallway, but Peter was already gone, disappeared into a hidden corridor or stairwell.
MJ ran out behind him. She skidded to a stop beside Flash, whipping her head left and right, and cursed. Flash just stared at the end of the hall, quiet and still as it had ever been.
”Do we...go after him?” He asked.
”If you ask something as obvious as that again, I’m slapping you, too.” She said, and started towards the stairwell.
”Okay,” Flash sighed, and followed close behind, still cradling his face.