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[Zach Wallace]

Note that this does take place in the boys bathroom, a girl is welcome to join, just know that you are barging into the boys bathroom so you'll have to rp out that fact

Zach stood in front of the small mirror in the cramped dorm bathroom. His cigarette still smoldered as it sat percariously perched between his thin lips. His hands were supporting himself as he stared down the person looking back at him in the mirror. He wanted to yell, scream, do anything to get the anger that was beginning to boil within him out, but he had no release. No way for the quiet beast growing within him to get out, to stop tormenting him. He blew out a small puff of smoke not removing the cigarette of his mouth.

It had been two years to the day, though it still only felt like yesterday. He was sixteen, though even that felt wrong. Somehow he felt as if he was a lot younger in that moment, and a lot older, but then dealing with death had a way of doing that. The kid was his best friend, if he would have ever called any body that. Its not like they chose each other. Living in the rough part of town, you kind of just took what you could get, and the kid was one of the few that would talk to him in school, and from there their friendship grew you could say. Not too many were eager to befrined a dungeons and dragons, nerd to the extreme. It was nothing more then convenience really, Jimmy was able to get Zach out of his house for a few precious moments, introduce him to a world of drugs, alcohol and even sex at the tender age of 12, and Zach couldn't have been happier.

They caused trouble and mayhem wherever they went. Anarchy, mohawks, plaid, safety pins, the works. Whatever they knew to be labled as 'punk' were the only things they deemed cool enough to wear, think or do. Anarchy was what it was all about, not some fashion trend like emo or scene, no those were the kids they beat up after school, if they even went. Their lives were for only a few purposes- doing what they could to throw down the man, and causing trouble. It was their code and they followed it religiously.

It wasn't too long into their friendship that Zach had uncovered his true talent though- getting the best deals on drugs, and charging the jocks, the preps, and even the scene kids he'd beat up, an arm and a leg for them. To say he was good at it, was all but putting it mildly. It was the one thing in the world he was good at, probably the reason he was so damned passionate about doing it too. The kid didn't have too many other useable talents in his life.

Jimmy on the other hand, now that kid was like a god in their group. He had a way with words, and an ability to get anyone to do anything he wanted them to. Quickly, he rose through their ranks, no one even caring that he was younger then them- he was smart, knew how to run things, and his ideas for destruction were par none. It didn't hurt that his best friend happened to be their dealer.

Jimmy had showed him a way of living that Zach quite simply couldn't imagine. He had money, people he could call friends, not counting the fact that the only reason they talked to him was because of his drugs and Jimmy, and had given him something to be passionate about. Maybe that's why finding him convulsing on the floor, the needle still tightly gripped in his hand, the bent spoon and lighter on the floor, hell even the shoe string was still wrapped tightly around his arm. If it wasn't for his entire body shaking violently or the foam coming out of his mouth, Zach wouldn't have thought anything of it. Jimmy shot up plenty of times drunk off his ass. What made this time so different?

Maybe it was the fact that he had taken his average dose of heroin, not knowing it was actually high quality cocaine. Maybe it was the fact that his circle of friends was slowly falling apart around him, and there was nothing left for him in life any more. Whatever it was, it didn't really matter, Zach had found him too late. He had opened the door to the basement, clunked down the few steps to watch Jimmy convulce exactly three more times before coming to a stop. His eyes staring off at space. A couple hot tears rolled down Zach's cheeks, as he rushed to his side punching him violently, while screaming at him "Why? Why the fuck did you do this to me? Why did you leave me alone? You stupid idiot, how the fuck could you overdose?" before placing his hands over his face trying to hide the tears pouring out, apologizing profusioly.

Three days later, and Jimmy was six feet under the ground. Not even a second thought to most of his "friends," what did they care? They were punk, and on the wrong side of town, shit like that happened almost daily. Jimmy was just another number in a mound of statistics. Zach on the other hand, couldn't get Jimmy out of his mind. He cleaned up, started actually attending school again, and even quit selling. But like most things in the ghetto, the money ran out quickly, and he was forced to go back into business, or watch his family find themselves on the streets. It wasn't an easy decision, and it led him back into a bit of trouble. They staying clean part was something he just couldn't kick though.

Like everything, even that was taken the extremes. Zach still won't even touch tylonel, vitamins, or anything resembling medicine. As far as he's concerened, they're all dangerous, but it pays the bills. He continued staring at his reflection, still finding it hard to believe he'd let his hair grow out, getting rid of the bright blue mohawk. The clothes, that now resembeled more of a skater fashion, then old school punk, but the scars were still there. The small gash on his jaw bone, from his first actual fight, also with Jimmy, and the other numerous ones from when he was high, drunk or both.

There was little there that reminded him of his old self. Everything about him now just screamed poser. Fuck, if Jimmy saw him now, he'd be kicking his ass for sure. A small tear rolled out of his eye, and Zach watched it shamefully fall down his cheek before cranking his right hand back in a tight fist and unleashing it forward. The sound of the glass shattering from the mirror coaxed him back to reality for a few seconds as pain spread across his hands. Zach turned, his back falling into the wall as he slid to the floor, his knees pulled close to his chest, his head held down as more tears flowed out. The hand, still bound in a fist, small chards of glass haging out, laid uselessly on the tile floor, a small pool of blood pouring out, as he continued to sit half under the pedestal sink.

He couldn't deal with this anymore, what had happened to his old self? Had he really become a poser who was scared of medicine? He still delt drugs, just to get money? Who was he kidding, without them, he'd be a no body, no one would want to be his friend, and he'd be left at this stupid academy alone, alone like he had always been. Alone.

[Jennifer Duecaster]

(ooc; Since no one else seemed to want to post here, fine… I will! Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I changed the setting just a little bit. I hope this post is okay.)

It was the normal average day… having to get up early, having to go to school, sit through all the torture of lectures and doing more and more busy work, and then getting piles of homework, projects, essays- the works, and then having to go home and do them all. It sucked, but right now it was life. She was tired from being up at one in the morning still working on that stupid project she had to turn into her Spanish class that day. Of course, she did have about six days to do it, but pretty much like always she left it to the last minute. She tried to cover up the discoloring underneath her eyes from her lack of sleep, but nothing really worked.

Her appearance was not all that important to her- well she didn’t think about it ever hour of the day, let’s put it that way. Once out of the house and in school, that was it. Which now brought around the topic of the dark denim jeans she was wearing and the simple black converses she found and put them on. Her upper half sported a dark purple t-shirt and quarter length sleeved black hoodie with an open rose on the back in a matching dark purple. Of course, you could not really see the purple rose because her out-grown hair had gotten so it reached midway down her back. She mostly had kept it down for the day in the building, yet still wore a simple black hair tie around her wrist.

School was over for today- finally! She still had to do homework, but it was only in two subjects that were fairly easy to her. Her plans were to get home, set her things down, and crash on the couch after setting her phone’s alarm so she would get up and do her homework. Yes, even though she was a big procrastinator, she still managed to turn in her homework and get A’s, B’s, and C’s out of her classes. Not a huge goodie-goodie, but enough to keep her out of major trouble.

Don’t ask her why she chose to take this way to walk out of school, but she was passing the bathrooms. She glanced at the girl’s bathroom and then to the water fountain that was back down the hall. Sighing, she walked back and used her left hand to hold her hair away from her face. Normally she wouldn’t drink the water from the school fountains, but she hadn’t had water since lunch when she drank all the water from the bottle she had taken to school today. To her surprise, the water was cold and didn’t taste that bad. Then again, maybe she was just really thirsty.

She had almost forgotten she was wearing a necklace until it clacked against the frame of the fountain. She brought her head back up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The hallways were already deserted by now and she kind of enjoyed the quite. The only people left in the building seemed to be a few teachers and students staying after to make up some things. She sighed and sagged her shoulders, defeated by the stress from the day and panic since she kept falling asleep in class. She got caught about twice in total today, just thankfully in separate subjects.

Her backpack was heavy today and her shoulders had already started to hurt from the weight on them. Her eyes felt droopy and heavy right about now. A nice nap sounded so good right about now. Yet her teetering position on her feet and the sweet daydream of sleep was cut short by the sound of class shattering too far down from where she was. She had jumped and caught her balance before she fell. A curiosity swept over her and yet she was slightly worried what that could have been.

A war started to break out between her mind and body. Her body was saying to get out of here to go home and sleep while her mind- the nice part told her to check it out. Her mind and curiosity quickly won, her body getting the slight adrenaline from the earlier fright. She looked down the hall to where she heard the sound. The really only occupied rooms after school in this hallway would be the bathrooms. Her brows knit in confusion at the thought.

Slowly however, she made her way to the girl’s bathroom door and walked in. Dead silence. She did not think that anyone would be in here. All the stalls were open and basically it was deserted. That only left… the boy’s bathroom. No. She couldn’t check- she couldn’t walk in there! It was the men’s- the boy’s bathroom! Then again, the prowling cat just had to come up and pounce.

Ok, so there could a fight in there and someone getting hurt, why else would glass break… besides it just happening to fall? The worst case scenario she could think of was someone having a weapon to kill her with, but then that seemed unlikely. The next that she would walk in to check things out, see a fight, perhaps get caught and then beaten up. She would heal though eventually and it would be worth it even if there was the slightest chance she could stop the people from getting too badly hurt. Ok, so the goodie-goodie side was coming in slightly.

With a shaky breath, Jennifer walked out of the girls’ bathroom and down the hall to the boys’. Hesitantly, she pushed the door open. ’Please don’t let teachers find out about this.’ she thought worriedly in her head. She was running an extremely high risk of her even touching the door! She looked both ways again before ducking behind the door. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but she could smell cigarette smoke. So that meant perhaps someone was in here earlier or that meant there could be someone still in the room.

Glass. Came to mind as light reflect off a shard. As quietly as she could, she placed her backpack against the door and looked at the mirrors. She saw the broken one and looked down, seeing shards on the floor. The sight she saw made her breath hitch. Slowly, she walked over to the boy on the floor half under the sink. As she neared closer, Jennifer watched where she placed her foot, not wanting to step on the glass. Yet while looking at the floor, her eyes had found something that made her breath hitch quietly once again.

She bent her knees slightly so she could look at the boy huddled up. She looked back to his bloodied hand and back to his face. ”Hey…” she called out softly, her voice weak and coming out as a slightly chocked whisper. Her fingers were cold from the nervousness. Jen looked once again to the door, still wary and expecting for an administrator walking through the door. Carefully she reached over to his hand with her own. She pulled it back though after noticing the shards still in his hand.

She didn’t know how he could keep it in a fist, but now she knew why she had heard glass shatter. ”Oh God…” she whispered faintly more so to herself. Her elbows rested off her knees, her hands supporting her lowering head. She brought down her hands, rubbing the bridge of her nose and then over her cheekbone before bringing her head back up to look at the boy once again. Was he… crying?

[Zach Wallace]

Zach sat there, his hand bleeding out onto the once pristine tile floor, his mind was anywhere but there. He couldn't stop thinking about his family, Jimmy, all the people he had managed to disappoint through the years. What was the point of even carrying on at this stage in the game? He had no one except for the people that hung out with him cause of the drugs. Besides the fact that they would run out, would they really notice him missing? Would they really care? It was a thought he honestly didn't want to know the answer to because he was fairly certain he already knew what it was.

His head still hung down as he heard the door creak open. Shit! Fucking teacher or something heard me, now I'm in for it. Can my life seriously get any fucking worse? He kept his head turned away, not wanting to look up. He had damaged school property, and if they checked him- they would find drugs on him too. This meant only a couple things for him now- Rehab again if he was lucky, otherwise it would be juvy. Not very good options, but at this point he couldn't care less.

The voice he heard, was anything but a professor's though, it sounded like a girl. He shyly looked up- not wanting another student to see him like this, but then again it was too late for that. "What the fuck do you want?" He yelled at her, as her hand reached out for his. He heard her whisper something to herself, "What the hell are you doing in here anyway? Girls bathroom is on the other side. he snapped.

[Jennifer Duecaster]

Upon the silence after she spoke, she looked back to the door several times extremely worried. She groaned and looked back to the boy. Another glance to his hand had her picking up another piece of glass nearby. She looked at it and then put it back down. It was glass so it's naturally sharp; she was just trying to find out just how sharp it was though.

His voice suddenly made her head jerk up from looking at the glass pieces on the floor. The language was harsh, but hey... it really didn't matter to her that much. It was probably due to the fact she was still tired from lack of sleep. As he continued to talk she looked at him with tired eyes. Just by her observation, she knew she had to choose her words wisely, but would it be enough? Her lack of sleep though might impair her choice of words.

He wanted to play tough guy, fine... we'll see how long this lasts. "Why does it matter what I want?" she retorted back coldly with narrowed eyes in a glare. She rolled her eyes at such obvious words. "No shit Sherlock." she told him in a clipped tone. "Why else would I be in here? I heard glass shatter." Simple answer and it was about to be backed up. However, not before she stood up and started picking up some glass from the floor.

With shards in her hand, she put them in the trashcan and went back to pick up some more, gaining cuts herself in the process. Sure, she could go get a broom from the janitors’ closet, but there was no way she was going to risk being seen going out of the boys' bathroom anytime soon even if it was after school. As she went back, she crouched down again in front of the boy, picking up some shards. Not looking up she said, "I'm not turning you in as long as you don't tattle about me being in here." At yet another handful of glass, she let them drop in the trash can.

A short intake of breath between clenched teeth escaped her and sounded like a hiss as a shard slid against the palm of her left hand. Looking for the paper towels, she took some and wet it under the sink the boy was by. After squeezing out some of the cold water, she wrapped it around the palm of her left hand. Then she turned and rested her left hip against the sink, looking down at him, using her right hand to put pressure on the bleeding cut on her palm. "You going to help or what? Do you really want to be caught by administrators?"

She kind of regretted her tone was that sharp and winced as the cut stung after she put her index finger on a certain part. Maybe she was being too harsh, maybe she was being honest. Yet here she was picking up glass, helping this kid and not having any intentions of turning him in. Then again, it kind of dawned on her that since they didn't know each other’s names, ratting each other out had a chance of really not working. With a small sigh, she reached out her right hand to him, offering to help him up by his left hand.

[Zach Wallace]

Zach rolled his eyes as the girl snapped back at him. He was no where in the mood to get into any sort of argument with anyone at the moment. All he felt like doing was being alone, or finding a new outlet for his rage. Physical violence was sort of out of the question as long as he didn't want to find himself in any more trouble at the school, so he was going to have to make due with sucking it up and acting like a man.

Instead of saying back something spiteful, he instead swallowed his words, and gave an agitated sigh. He couldn't understand why the girl was picking up the shards of glass off the floor. She hadn't broken the mirror, so she wasn't bound to get in trouble, nor did he know her- so again no reason for her to help him. Unless she wanted something, just like every other person in the world- only being helpful so that they could get something out of it. He'd 'owe' her that's it. It was the only logical explanation he could come up with. In his world- people weren't nice, ever, unless you had something they wanted. Someone like her, helping him out so he wouldn't get in trouble, just didn't exist and it was hard for him to wrap his mind around any other explanation.

His thoughts seemed reaffirmed as she stated that she would not be turning him in. Like he really cared if she did? What would the administration do? Label him as a hazard to himself and others? Like he cared. Deep down a part of him was a bit thankful though, getting in trouble was the last thing he really needed, but he didn't want her to know that. He continued to sit on the cold tile floor staring at her as she picked up another handful of glass, letting out a small hiss as she cut herself and then tended to her wounds.

He rolled his eyes again as she asked if he would help, biting his tongue so as not to say anything mean. She could still turn him in, or find someway to make his life even more of a living hell, he needed to tread carefully. Figure out what her motives were. "No, obviously I don't want to be caught by the fucking administrates." he snapped, doing his best to be as civil as possible. She offered her hand to help him up, but he didn't want to appear weak in anyway, and ignored it as he stood up on his own, wincing from the pain that shot up his right hand as he moved it.

Carefully he made his way over to the trashcan and began pulling some of the smaller pieces of glass out of his hand. It wasn't long before he had gotten them all out but one larger piece- he wasn't too sure if he should remove it or not, it looked as though it was going to take stitches since it was halfway deep. Great, stitches means doctors trying to shove poison down my fucking throat he thought, as he reached for a stack of paper towels, and moved back to the sink.

He doused them under the cold water and wrapped them around his hand to stiffle some of the bleeding, but he really needed to go home and get some guaze around it. He'd probably have to super glue the big cut too, and remove the final shard, but he'd need to wait till he had the proper materials for that. In the mean time, the make shift bandage of paper towels was going to have to suffice, he only hoped the large piece didn't get knocked out before he got home, he wasn't sure if the paper towels would be enough to stop the bleeding from that.

Turning back to the shards on the floor, he began doing his best to sweep them up and carry them to the garbage with only one good hand. A sigh escaped him as he turned towards the girl. "Thanks... for like helping me and what not." he said quietly.

[Jennifer Duecaster]

The next announcement of words quirked her interest and a simple inquisitive look appeared on her face. Really? It seemed to ask him. You would think if he didn't want to be caught then he wouldn't have punched the mirror. She shook her head and looked down at her left hand. Carefully, she moved back the paper towel and looked at the cut. It wasn't as bad as it felt like. It was nothing some sting-filled peroxide, Neosporin, and either a large band-aid or gauze could handle. She just ended up keeping the towel wrapped around her hand.

At the rejected offer to help him up, she withdrew her hand and mumbled something. It was more so along the lines of "Stupid, self-righteous, prick..." Although, most of it stayed in her head and only a few murmur-like sounds made it out. After she saw the slight look of pain from the guy, she almost regretted thinking that. Almost.

She watched him with slight curiosity as he went along picking out the shards out of his hand. Quickly, she had wiped the curiosity off her face as he made his way back over to get paper towels and wet them. She winced at the sudden thought of what it would feel like to have those shards in her hand. Her cut was minor compared to what happened to him. Glass never was her favorite thing to deal with when cleaning up broken and jagged pieces of it.

As he himself went back to pick up the shards the best he could with his one hand, she grabbed some more paper towels for another purpose. As she turned back around, she met his gaze as he sighed. She caught his words and let a small smile curve her lips. So maybe he wasn't such a bad kid after all. "You don't really need to thank me, but..." she trailed off and grinned slightly. "... you're welcome." After finishing talking for now, she went over to the sink and wet a few paper towels.

After wetting a few very slightly, she took her stack of dry ones in her left hand and slightly wet ones in her right. Carefully to avoid some few noticeable shards remaining, she made her way over to the mess of blood. Why she was cleaning the blood up and not him, she didn't know... she just was. Carefully, she placed some dry ones on the mess and then moved them off to the side after whipping some off. Getting the wet ones in her hand, she ran it across the floor, getting the rest up. Once down with that she placed them on top of the blood soaked ones and used the few remaining towels to get the rest off and pick up the wasted towels. After dropping them in the trash as well as her make-shift bandage, she went to the sink and washed her hands with soap and water.

Turning back to him after patting her hands dry on some paper towels and keeping one still on the cut, she turned to him. "Now what?" she asked him. She looked toward his hand, hoping to bring his attention back to it. "What do you want to do about that?" she asked him this time, keeping her gaze on his hand. All she was doing now was waiting for his answer and trying to think up something to tell the administrators if they ever got caught.

[Zach Wallace]

Zach scooped up a small amount in his good hand and headed for the garbage, dumping it in in time to hear the girl reply 'your welcome.' He returned to what was left of the broken glass on the floor and swept up another hand full as she began tending to the blood pooled under the sink. His mind was still flashing through reasons on why she might want to help him, especially going as far as to clean up his blood, when he was more then capable of doing so.

What on Earth could she possibly want from me? Its not like I have any thing for her to blackmail me with. Shit- hopefully she doesn't know about the drugs- that is the last freaking thing I need right now. he thought as she threw the bloody towels in the trash. She turned towards him, and asked what he wanted to do now, all to obviously staring at his hand. It was not as though he had forgotten about it, the thing was throbbing like crazy, and blood was slowly starting to ooze out from the paper towel.

He slowly placed his hand behind him, he didn't want to worry her, but there was no way he was going to see a doctor. Him and doctors were like water and oil-- they didn't mix, not for anything in the world. There was no way in hell he was going to let some know-it-all attempt to stuff him full of needles and pills, not going to happen. "I'm sure it will be fine. I'll just take out the big piece at home and wrap it up. Nothing to worry about. I've gotten worse injuries then this before" he said nervously, as he tried to muster up as much confidence as he could.

[Jennifer Duecaster]

She could not help but to notice him move his hand behind his back after she asked about it. Something was up; normally people wouldn't hide something if it wasn't bad. With a sigh, she shook her head and turned to survey the room. Not too bad. Together they kind of did a good job cleaning everything up. She turned once again to him and nodded her head once after her was done talking. "Uh-huh... you're sure, but I'm not." she told him, voice holding a certain toughness.

He sure did sound confident about treating his hand on his own. However, it worried her slightly that he was brushing it off. From what she had seen earlier, it looked pretty bad- worse than what he made it out to be. She quirked an eyebrow, slightly challenging him about his hand. "May I see it?" she asked, referring to his hand. He wasn't going to get out of this mess. "And honestly, I don't see how you can think it's 'nothing to worry about'." She just put it out there- that statement. It was just something she was musing about.

Despite her being worried about his hand, a slight curiosity sparked. Worse injuries than what happened to his hand? The faint spark of that curiosity vanished as he would probably only be saying he had broken a bone before. To her that seemed slightly worse. Actually, she couldn't really say due to the fact it was all based on opinion. Then she just couldn't help it. "Just what kind of injuries?" She shook her head at that point and mumbled 'never mind' before looking at her cut again and deciding she didn't need the towel anymore and throwing it away.