Behind the Sketchbook

"Come on then, Alex! You tell her, or I will! How long did you think you could get away with hiding this? How long did you think you could cope by yourself?" My brother roared at me from a few steps below me on the staircase of my parent's house.

I kept my head in my knees, squeezing my eyes shut as tight as they could go. I wanted everything to stop. To just stand still. I wanted the floor to just swallow me up and spit me out again somewhere nicer than here. Somewhere where I wouldn't be interrogated by my family.

It was none of their business. It was nobody's business but my own. I was thirteen, and perfectly capable of handling things by myself in my own way. I hated being treated like the baby of the family. Yes, I was the youngest, but I was stronger than I looked. I didn't need Dale's help, or Taylor's for that matter. It was my problem, and I would be the one to fix it. And if I couldn't fix it, it was on my own head.

It all started when I met her.

We had been friends for ages. Lucy and I. Ever since I was put to the local school in Skeins Row. Taylor and Dale went to my Mum's private school, but me? I guess I just wasn't that smart.

I still remember our first conversation we ever had. Lucy was known for being loud and cheek in class, and it was in Maths class that day when we first spoke.

Lucy had gotten moved seats to sit beside me. And she wasn't very happy about it. At first.

She sat down in the seat next to me with surprising grace. I could smell her perfume as her fine white-blonde fell down onto her shoulders. Her hair as always back-combed to some extent. It was a new style every day, though. Some days she would wear it down, others, up in a high pony-tail, revealing her face to the world.

She had what seemed like perfect milky white skin and deep blue eyes, her features looked flawless in any kind of light.

Lucy sighed and rested her head on her hand, ignoring the notebook and exercise book in front of her, she tapped the pen on the desk and then turned to me.

"You're Alexander, right?" she asked like she was on a mission. That was always the case with Lucy. I had watched her for months.

My Mum has always said that our family were known for people watching, it was insane, really. We all did it. Even Taylor, my sister, did it. And she was the most shy person you could get. She doesn't think she's very interesting, but she is.

"I- I am." I stutter. God. I was making a fool out of myself already.

"Good." She said, and slid her notebook along the table to me. "I don't get Pythagoras."

From then on, I guess I could have said that we were friends.

Of course, Lucy wasn't so keen on me at first, but after around a year of sitting next to me in Maths, we had grown to like each-others company. As Lucy was a loner of sorts, just like me.

I had never had a real friend before. The teenagers in my family were somehow cursed with this social awkwardness that I had inherited no doubt from my sister. Heavens knows how my mum and dad had such good public speaking abilities. My mum gets up in front of a class of thirty to forty teenagers every day and teaches, whilst my dad is a lawyer and has to argue people's cases, even if they are in the wrong. I didn't want to do any of those types of jobs, myself. All I was interested in was drawing. Creating art. That was my calling in life.

Mum and Dad always tell me that it's not practical.

That was, until a couple of months ago.

The story was simple, really. I could understand why Lucy had went the way she had. The reason was a mixture of things put together. The main one was that her family had finally fallen apart.

I say falling apart, what I mean is that it was well and truly hanging by a thread.

Lucy wasn't from my side of town, she lived in the rougher areas, whereas I lived in the more rich part of town. Due to my mother and father having well paying jobs. Lucy had opened up to me once upon a time. She told me all about how her family had never really had much in life and they still don't. Her mum was diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder when Lucy was only six. This meant that her mother had very terrible mood swings. One minute she would be the happiest person in the world, and the next, she would be the most depressed person you would ever meet. The disorder was serious, and Lucy's mum was on medication for it, but she always worried that her mum would slip up and forget to take the pills one morning, and then what would she do?

This wasn't all that had made Lucy the way she is today. Her mum's disorder was only the beginning of a growing pile of problems that was on her shoulders.

Lucy once talked about her brother. His name, she had told me, was Jamie. He was twenty-one years old when he overdosed on heroin.

Lucy told me that he never made it. He had a fiancée and everything. They were supposed to be getting married and settling down, and sorting out the drug problems along the way.

Lucy's father left the family not long after Jamie died.

Ever since then, Lucy had been spiralling out of control. Sure, she was always mouthy and loud. That was just in her nature, but she was kind hearted and knew where to draw the line. Nowadays... well, nowadays, she made everyone's life a living hell

It got to a point where nobody could control her at all. She ad spiralled completely out of control. The Lucy McKinley I once knew was gone. I hardly recognised her these days.

Lucy now bullied me at school.

"Christ, Dale, he's only thirteen! What's the problem?" My sister, Taylor snapped at him. I dug my nails into my fists, the pain stung my hands, but I didn't care.

I was outraged that Dale had found out about the bullying.

I thought back to earlier that day.

"Oh, it's the swot! Hey Alexander! Lets see what stupid drawing you've done today!" Lucy had shrieked at me on the way home from school. Her new found 'friends' were behind her, laughing and jeering with her.

"He draws! That's so gay! Hey, Alex, you must like it up the arse!" One of the other girls said, and the group immediately burst out into another fit of giggles.

I clutched my sketchbook tightly to my chest as I walked quicker. I needed to get away from it all. Things like this happened to me on a daily basis now. It seemed that Lucy wanted to forget that she had ever trusted me at all.

She wanted to make sure I wouldn't tell anybody her secrets. But I'm not like that, I wouldn't gossip. It just wasn't in me to spread things like that around the school or the city. No matter what I thought of a person and no matter how awful they were to me.

I hated when people said nasty stuff about my work. They could think I'm gay all they liked, personally, I would take that as a compliment, even though I wasn't. I saw nothing wrong with being homosexual whatsoever. People who did see something wrong with it were simple minded. But the minute someone bad-mouthed my art. That's what really got me.

Lucy was torturing me, and she knew what she was doing. It was all getting too much to bear.

"Alexander, why didn't you tell us that you were getting bullied?" Dales voice echoed inside my head. I felt Taylor gasp slightly and she came to hold me. I let her, but really, all I wanted was to be in my room alone.

The aftermath of that conversation was one of the worst nights I had had in a long time.

Taylor was one of those people where she wouldn't rest until she was assured that everything was all right. So I put on an act, told her I would be fine, that the bullying wasn't that bad. Eventually, she left my room with an uncertain face.

My door had been closed.

A small sense of relief washed over me. This was all I needed. I just needed to be alone. If they thought that the bullying was bad... I dreaded to think what they would make of my real problem.

If you pay close attention, a million feeling can come from just one tiny thing.

Nobody in my family was paying close attention. Thank goodness.

I sat on my bed for several moments, twiddling my pencil in my hand. Things just seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Tears stung my eyes and a lump formed in my throat. I was helpless, I was weak. I let girls pick on me. What type of a man was I?

The tears dripped down my cheeks as I reached into my pillowcase, dropping the pencil on the floor and not stopping to pick it up. There was only one thing that made me feel better about everything. There was only one thing that made me FEEL again.

The tiny razor-blade lay cool in my hands. I turned it over and over, feeling the metal against my skin gave me shivers.

I would feel again any moment now. The pain would cease, even for just an hour or so.

I closed my eyes again, and the blade dug into my arm.

There was no way out. Not for me. Not ever. I was in too deep.