Page 162 of The Compass Series

DAMIAN - SIXTEEN YEARS OLD

“ H e’s such a weirdo,” Kyle said as I sat in the dining room of the group home. I was minding my own business because that was what I did best—minded my own fucking business.

People went out of their way to push me over the edge.

Through the years, I’d learned quickly not to get too close to others.

All I did was keep to myself and work on my photography skills.

My social worker Ms. Kelp bought me a camera a few years back, and every week she’d develop my photographs at the local drugstore, and then she’d sit with me and flip through the pictures.

It felt stupid, but truthfully, Ms. Kelp was the only consistent thing in my life throughout the years. It became pathetic when the closest person in your life was just there because it was her job. Ms. Kelp told me it was different with us, though. That we had a connection.

I didn’t really believe in connections much anymore after being disconnected from others a handful of times.

After my last placement, I didn’t get chosen to stay with any other families.

It wasn’t a shock. The older you get in the foster system, the fewer chances there were to be picked up.

You get too old. You’re not as cute. And your trauma? It’s loud and clear.

“Go take that from him,” Kyle instructed one of his followers to bother me.

I glanced over to them and grimaced. Already annoyed.

It was a pain in the ass that they thought it was okay to gang up on me.

I didn’t bother a soul. I didn’t even speak.

They truly went out of their way to make my life hell.

I started gathering up my photographs and camera. I knew the moment they made it up in their minds to bother me that some of my photos would be messed up. So I would go hide in a back room or closet until they got over it.

I picked up my stuff and hurried off, but they started chasing me right away.

I ran into the closest closet and slammed the door shut before they could get me.

They all shouted to let them in, and I pulled on the door handle as tight as I could.

I couldn’t let them near my pictures. Ms. Kelp was coming later today to give me more photographs she went to develop last time.

Soon enough, the guys said screw it and walked away. I waited a while until I thought I was in the clear. I pushed against the door, and it wouldn’t open. Something was blocking it. I pushed again, and nothing.

My heart began to race in my chest as panic overwhelmed in me. I began slamming my body against the door.

I kept throwing my body against it, but nothing budged.

Somehow, the dark closet was becoming darker and darker with each moment that passed.

I hated the dark. I hated it so much. I sat in the corner of the space and pulled my knees into my chest. My fingernails began digging into my wrists as I clawed at my skin.

I rocked back and forth, unable to get out of my own head.

What if they didn’t let me out? What if they didn’t come back? What if no one noticed I was missing?

Over two hours passed, and I wasn’t let out.

When the door finally opened, Ms. Kelp was standing there, staring at me with concerned eyes. “Damian, what are you doing in here?”

I looked up at her with widened eyes. My heart was still racing as my nails were dug deep into my wrists. They were bleeding from the back and forth scratching I’d done.

Ms. Kelp looked down at my arms. “Oh, sweetheart.” She walked me out of the closet with my camera and my photos and sat me back at the table. “Who did this to you?”

I didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. If I told on them, they’d bully me more when she left. She was the only safety net I had, anyway. Without her, I’d have nothing.

I slouched in my chair as Ms. Kelp got a first-aid kit and taped up my wrists.

“You have to tell us who’s bullying you, Damian. Otherwise, we can’t help,” Ms. Kelp said.

I huffed and muttered under my breath.

Telling on bullies only made them bully me worse.

She sighed. “I got your pictures developed. Want to see them?”

I nodded, still slouching in the chair. She handed me the package of photos, and I began flipping through them. Seeing my pictures made me feel a little bit better.

“You’re extremely talented, Damian. I think you’re going to do so much good in this world,” she told me. Ms. Kelp was good at that—showering me with compliments that I probably didn’t deserve.

I showed her one of the photographs. My favorite one.

She smiled. “It’s my favorite, too,” she said. “I might have looked at them before coming over. You’re gifted, Damian.”

I shrugged.

It didn’t feel like I had any gifts.

I stared at my photos for a while longer, and when I looked up at Ms. Kelp, she looked as if she was about to cry. I raised an eyebrow, confused.

“I got some news today, Damian.” She shifted in her seat. “You remember how I told you my father lives in Detroit?”

I nodded.

“Well.” Ms. Kelp frowned. “He had a fall the other day, and he’s not doing too well. I had to go out to check on him the past weekend. After doing some thinking, which was hard and a long process, I decided he needed more help. So, I am moving back to Detroit to help with his care.”

“What?” I gasped, sitting up straighter. Tears instantly hit my eyes. “You’re leaving?”

Ms. Kelp began crying, too, because whenever I was sad, she got sad, too. “Yes, sweetheart. I am. I wish there was another option, but I have to go take care of my father.”

“But what about me?” I whispered. It was selfish, and needy, and rude, but…

What about me?

I didn’t talk often, except for when words were truly needed.

Ms. Kelp took my hands into hers. “You’re going to be okay, Damian,” she swore, but it felt like a lie.

“Take me with you.”

Her hand landed against her heart. “I’m sorry, Damian. That’s not a possibility.”

“But you’re…you’re…”

You’re all I have.

She kept talking, but I went mute again. It was clear she wasn’t going to take me with her. At the end of the day, I was just a job to her, something she could quit whenever she needed to. I thought she was my friend. I thought she was my family and we’d never have to really say goodbye.

When she left, the house felt colder. I felt alone. So alone.

The bullies came back, and they mocked me.

“Well, will you look at that? Even Ms. Kelp didn’t want your weird ass,” Kyle said, shoving me.

I didn’t have the strength to run. I didn’t have the willpower to lock myself away. I just let it happen. They shoved me. They messed up my photographs and smashed my camera. I didn’t care. I didn’t feel anything.

They even pushed and shoved me. Hit me. Fought me. I didn’t fight back.

When everyone went to bed, I left the house. I walked for hours with no real direction. I found a bottle of whiskey that I snatched from a store. I drank it all.

I had no one.

Not even Ms. Kelp.

She was going back to her real family. I made the mistake of thinking that was me, but I wasn’t her family. I was just a temporary thing in her life.

Everything was temporary.

Everything ended.

Everything—

“Hey! Hey! What are you doing?” a voice called out toward me.

I found myself on top of a building where I took my last photographs.

You could see all of the Eastern lights from up there.

You could see how everyone was out in the world living their lives.

Probably with families. Probably with dreams coming true.

Probably with happiness. It wasn’t fair.

Life wasn’t fair, and I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

“Get down, buddy,” the voice said again.

I stood on the edge of the building. I had to be at least thirty floors up. The cold wind blew against my face, but I felt numb.

I glanced back at the guy, and he looked at me with eyes wide and packed with fear.

Why would a stranger look so scared for me? I didn’t matter. Someone should’ve told him that. I didn’t matter. His concern was being wasted on someone who didn’t deserve it.

“Go away,” I muttered, swaying back and forth.

“I can’t! Come on, get down,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t bother. Not worth it,” I shot back.

My head was blurry, and I felt drunk. And sad. And sadly drunk.

“It is worth it. You’re worth it.”

“Fuck off,” I mumbled.

“I will. Once you get down. Look at me, man. Just for a second,” he begged.

Even though I wanted to let go. I wanted to dive off the edge and never remember any of the things that had hurt me before.

I turned to him. He placed his hands against his chest. “I get it. The world is fucked up. I’m only twenty-five years old, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life.

I moved here from the South to find myself, and I realize it’s harder than it seems. How old are you, man? ”

“Doesn’t matter to anyone.”

“It matters to me.”

I released a weighted chuckle. Then I met his stare again. It was almost as if he really meant it. “Sixteen,” I muttered.

“Sixteen. Still a kid.”

“Fuck you, I’ve been through more shit than you could imagine!” I shouted, feeling angry, which was better than feeling numb, maybe. Who knew? I didn’t. Fuck, I didn’t want to do this anymore. I didn’t want to meet people just to lose them again.

“I’m sure that’s true. I have no doubt that you’ve been through it, but it can get better, man.

Just a few weeks ago, I met someone during a time when I thought my life was going one way.

We spent one night together, and that changed my outlook on everything.

And yeah, it sounds corny as shit, but she changed my life.

And now, here I am, on this rooftop, being given an opportunity to pay it forward, but I can’t do that if you don’t get down. So please, dude. Get down.”

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “Everyone leaves. No one would even know if I died today.”

He moved closer to me. “I would. I would know. And it would break my fucking heart, so come on, man.” He held his hand out toward me. “Get down, and I’ll give you my word that I’ll help you figure your shit out. I’ll give you my word that I’ll stay.”

I snickered, unconvinced. “What the hell does your word even mean?”

“Everything,” he said, confidently. “It means everything.”

I didn’t know why, but I took his hand. He pulled me off the ledge and then pulled me into a hug that I didn’t even know I needed. I fell apart in his shoulder, trembling as he held on tight as if I was more than a stranger. As if I was important. As if I mattered.

“I got you, man. I got you,” he swore. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” I cried into him. I fell apart in a stranger’s arms as he soothed my troubled heart.

“I know, but I’m going to do everything possible to make sure it is for you,” he said. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Damian,” I muttered.

“Damian. Nice to meet you. I’m Connor, and I’m going to be your new friend, okay? I’m going to have your back when you need it. Whenever you feel close to the edge, come find me.”