The water was so cold.

     Rheager scrambled, limbs flailing, lungs burning, body screaming, but his fingers glided through the water effortlessly, not catching on anything and doing nothing to pull his body upwards.

     At this rate, he couldn’t even remember the direction of the surface.

     He opened his mouth, letting out a scream no one could hear, a scream no one would hear even if he wasn’t drowning, and choked on water.

     His body yearned for air, which is why he kept struggling, but in his mind, his heart… He wanted to die.

     He deserved to die.

     “Rheager!”

     He jerked back, his eyes wide and his chest heaving like he had been running miles. For a moment, he was confused, looking around the room that definitely wasn’t his bedroom, but when he glanced up at the face of Mrs. O’Malley, recognition hit.

     School. Calculus. He fell asleep in his Calculus class.

     “Shit, sorry,” He grunted, shaking his head to clear his mind from the sticky remnants of the nightmare coating his thoughts. He ranked his hands through his hair and then straightened out his jacket, noticing that all the other students had disappeared.

     “Rheager,” Mrs. O’Malley said, her eyes on his hands. They were shaking. “You’ve been sleeping a lot more in class,” She said, though she must have been relieved. When Rheager didn’t sleep in class, he was disruptive. It pissed teachers off, but he didn’t care. He hated school.

     “Is everything okay at home?”

     The question was so ironic that he wanted to laugh, but couldn’t force that kind of amusement. “Yeah,” He muttered, which was a lie, but she didn’t live his life, so how would she know? He sucked in a deep breath and held it, forcing himself out of the headspace of a lost little boy, and stood. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” He grumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaving the class before he could do something stupid like thank her, or worse, apologize.

     He checked the time on his phone and realized he had slept through all of his Calculus class and most of his next one, which surprised him. Why had Mrs. O’Malley just let him sleep in her room like that?

     He frowned to himself, slipping a toothpick out of his pocket and into his mouth as he walked, his shoulders inching down a small fraction as he did so.

     Mrs. O’Malley had always been one of his nicer teachers. Never snapped at him when he made dumbass comments. Never handed out a detention when he was basically asking for it. Rheager was a mess of a student and a shit of a person, he knew that, which is why he was so confused by her kindness. He did nothing to deserve it.

     He grunted and shook his head sharply, forcing himself to stop thinking like that.

     It was that stupid ass nightmare. It’s invoking self-pity. Next, you’ll be running back to Mrs. O’Malley to let her know Mommy beats on you. Then, you’ll get so sick of it all you’ll take Daddy’s revolver and blow your useless brains out.

     Rheager blinked at his own thoughts. Nice. It wasn’t even noon and he was already thinking about suicide. That had to be some kind of record.

     He paused outside of his English class, a part of him not wanting to go in. He could go outside, sit in the back and smoke a joint, get lost in his thoughts and forget about everything wrong in the world. Or he could go inside and take another nap.

     He checked his phone again. Eh. He could probably wait until after lunch before skipping.

     Rheager entered the class without knocking and went straight for the lone seat in the back right corner, the designated seat for him in all his classes.

     “Ah, Mr. Ronan. Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Ericson grumbled from his desk, his raspy voice sounding like he did too much yelling. Or dick sucking, Rheager wasn’t one to judge.

     “Great to be here, Eric,” Rheager called back, not even looking at him as he collapsed in his seat, kicking his feet up on his desk and leaning back in his chair.

     Neither of them seemed to care that no one was focusing on the packet they were supposed to be working on.

     “Care to share where you were?” He asked, fake enthusiasm in his voice.

     “Not particularly,” He mused, resting his arms behind his head and ignoring the stab of pain it sent through his body.

     Mr. Ericson smirked, looking both amused and annoyed. “That was a pretty big word for your small brain, Rheager, I’m proud.”

     He pulled his lips into a wide, fake grin. “You should see what I can do with the word loquacious.”

     He sighed and shook his head, tapping at his desk. “Your work is here, Mr. Ronan.”

     Rheager shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m good, thanks, though.”

     “That wasn’t a request,” He said, his voice growing firm.
Rheager shrugged, but didn’t move.

     “Do not make me get Mrs. Landlon up here again, Rheager, the principal has more important things to deal with than trash like you,” Mr. Ericson all but growled, his rasp growing thicker.

     He snorted. “Like what? I’m probably all the excitement she ever gets in this damned school.” He shook his head a little. Honestly, the most exciting thing that ever happens here are the fire alarm drills.

     “Rheager,” He thundered, clearly not in the mood for his shit today. Well, that was too bad. Rheager was tired, shaken, and in pain. For lack of a better analogy, he was like a chick on her period. Sue him for not wanting to get back up and grab a packet filled with useless shit he’d never use in his life.

     “I’ll give it to him.”

     For a long moment, Rheager was sure he fell asleep because he didn’t know what the hell just happened. One minute he was arguing with Mr. Ericson, the next minute, there was a tiny girl weaving through the isles to take a seat at one of the “forbidden” desks next to his.

     Mr. Ericson released a long, slow breath like she just relieved all the stress in the world. “Thank you, Miss Rose.”

     “Miss Rose” was extremely short and curvy (which honestly made her seem a little fat but Rheager wasn’t complaining because he’d always liked bigger girls, like, how the hell was he supposed to eat with a chick who only ate salads?), with thick brown hair that kind of seemed blonde, and bright green eyes. Eyes that were currently studying him with a big smile.

     “Hi,” She said with so much enthusiasm that Rheager instantly disliked her. “I’m Dawn.”

     She stuck out her hand, but like the true gentleman he was, he just stared at it until she let it fall awkwardly back to her side. Her smile never faded as she set his packet on his desk, next to his feet.

     So of course he ignored it, sat back, and closed his eyes.

     “Psst!”

     Peeking open one eye, he glanced at her.

     She tapped his packet. “We’re supposed to be working on this.”

     He had to avoid the urge to smile. What the hell was wrong with her? “That’s nice,” He murmured and closed his eyes again.

     “Psst!”

     His jaw clenched once, but he refused to acknowledge her.

     “Psst!” She poked his arm twice.

     His eyes flew open immediately. “Don’t touch me,” He warned, glaring at her.

     Her smile softened a little, like she knew she crossed a line, but she didn’t apologize. “Do you need help with it?”

     “Listen, princess,” He said, the nickname falling out of his mouth automatically. “Do you know who I am?”

     She nodded once. “Rheager Ronan."

     “That’s right,” Rheager smiled, talking like he was having a conversation with a disabled kid. “And Rheager Ronan doesn’t do school work. Rheager Ronan pisses off teachers because they don’t give a rats ass about anything other than getting paid. Rheager Ronan gets detentions all the time. Rheager Ronan would get you thrown into hell just by talking to him.” He kicked the packet off his desk. “Which means you need to be the little good-girl that you are, run along, and do your work. Leave me alone.”

     “I finished my packet,” She said brightly, like she hadn’t heard a thing that he just said. “So I don’t mind helping you with yours,” She picked up his papers, brushed them off, and set them on his desk again.

     Goddammit, what was wrong with this chick? She was like Teflon!

     She must have caught his incredulous look because she giggled. “Yes, I know who you are,” She said lightly. “Rheager Ronan. You got into a fight with a fifth grader on your first day of first grade. Everyone knows who you are because they are scared of you. And I am just telling you that you need to get your work done,” She patted his paper. “So do you need help?”

     “No,” He snapped, glaring at her. If she knew who he was, then why the hell wasn’t she scared? Everyone was scared of him, just like she said.

     But it was the look in her eyes that made him falter, just a little. Her eyes were bright, like loved being in his presence, but they were also dark, like she didn't want to trust him all the way.

     It was the look of someone who had been hurt but was determined to overcome it.

     And that's when his contempt turned just to annoyance.