_{♟ —       Memories of certain connotations felt almost weighted against his tongue, gnawed his throat with a bitter tinge of remorse, self loathing that was goaded away by knowledge - statistics - solid fact. Oceanic masses of literature could forbid phantoms from entrance to his mind for so long, especially when they haunted, clung with merciless talons at his flesh in the hallowed halls of education.}

               _{Where could one turn, if not for the arms that nurtured him? Mother’s, in whole, and by definition, were provided to offer security, and assurance that winds outside would not so much as lift a thread of hair atop his troubled mind. Instead, without bones of concrete, she stood with glass — glass that engulfed her skull, and trapped her thoughts in a fissured cage.}

               _{Was there safety anywhere?}

               _{Worried lips parted and trembled with the exertion required to continue. Years, millions of page, countless universes separated him from such a time, but and the same time he was suspended in midair to witness his failure.}

               _{❝School, to me, at least, was no more than an excuse to dread waking up in the morning.❞ Swallowed thickly — good.  ❝I knew then, as I do now, why none of the other kids treated me like I mattered, but… Everyday, when I got thrown into a locker, or — or, tripped in the hall, I couldn’t help but wonder why my face got picked out of the crowd of other insignificants.❞}

               _{❝One day in particular was especially awful, more so than usual.❞ Forced to clear his throat now, blink tightly — once — twice — to ward of the sting of astringent nostalgia that yearned to relent the dams straining back his anguish, ❝Between classes, I decided to divert from my already pre-established route — I pretty well followed the same path everyday, hoping the mass of students would keep me unnoticed — but that today I chanced getting a drink of water…❞}

               _{❝Hm, much to my own surprise, my trip was interrupted by a — a mass, an entire fleet of boys about my age. A couple I recognized, but more than half were faces I had only seen in passing.❞}

               _{He pressed both lips and eyes tightly together, and waited. Thoughts like these, recounted them aloud, struck him to the gut with the force of a freight train, and left his gut churning and hollow. Continue. Almost there, ❝—— Mom didn’t pick up the phone.❞ Fists clenched and splayed at his sides,}

               _{❝The nurse, Ms. Applewood, she found me huddling in the corner near the fountain with a bloody nose, a partially split lip — we called, and we called, and we called, but Mom was too devoted to avoiding her medication or psychiatrist’s check in phone calls to answer me when staying in that building any longer was a steeper punishment than whatever it was those very same boys had waiting for me after school.❞}

                                                            _{Not her fault. Not her fault.}