A short story told in the form of a letter. From a girl to a boy. 

Dear boy in the back of the class,

This is to the boy in the back of the class with the dark black hoody and the brown hair that used to be short and gelled up everyday but is now long and messy and looks like gel hasn’t been near it since forever. To the boy with the dark eyes and dark bags under them and the occasional bruises around his eyes instead of bags.

To the boy who never takes off his sweatshirt even in the summer when school is about to end and the air conditioner isn’t working and it’s a thousand degrees inside the classroom. To the boy who I accidentally bumped into once as you were trying to close your locker and your jacket was sliding down and in order to save myself I so selfishly grabbed onto your arm to save myself but ended up ripping your jacket off and pulling you down with me. To the boy, who after I got up and offered my hand to help you up, looked at his bare left arm with wide eyes and so my eyes followed. To the boy who had cuts up and down his left arm and a bruise on the forearm as big as a grown man’s hand.

To the boy who had physical signs of abuse and depression but no one helped him.

I see the signs. I feel your pain. You are not alone. You and me are the same, but I can’t save both of us, so I’m saving you. I am sorry that if I made things worse but you were once very happy, had a group of friends that loved you, played a sport you love, and the guy I used to admire hoping to be like.

Life used to shine in your eyes and now all I see is fear and sadness and...death.

I have never had anything going for me, so I’m saving you.

From the girl in the front of the class who learned that makeup was useful for more than just making you pretty.

From the girl who learned the signs of abuse in other people.

From the girl who wanted to save everybody except herself.

From the girl in the front of the class,

Me.