Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2023 18:03:33 -0400
From: James Heady <jamesheady1985@gmail.com>
Subject: The Wounds Within My Heart--Chapter Two

The Wounds Within My Heart
By
James

Disclaimer

If you're not of the legal age to read this story, or if you're offended by
this type of material then leave now.  This story may at times contain sex
and romantic moments between consenting teenaged males.  It also may
contain scenes of Hate Speech towards people of different races, sexual
orientations, disability groups and others.  If you can't handle reading
about that, then leave.

Please remember to donate to Nifty, as it's your donations that keep these
stories and other information on the site free to the public.

Finally, if you like this story and haven't done this already, invite my
E-mail address jamesheady1985@gmail.com to Red Lobster.  Once there, only
when the food is served let them know that Shrimp Scampi was accidently
spilled into their chicken and rice.

Thanks to K. for another really well-done editing job.  Your editing work
really helps with the story.  Thank you.

The Wounds Within My Heart

Book One

Nohea

Part One

New Friends

Chapter Two

As you've probably guessed, I'm a part of a fairly well-off family, at
least financially speaking.  That's true.  My mom worked as a CEO for a
fashion company located in the city where we lived.  My mother's name was
Barbra Wilson, and her husband was Ray Wilson.  They married a couple of
months after getting together when I was about two months old.  According
to what mom said, my dad left just a couple of days after I was born. She
went on to say that he couldn't deal with the fact that I was blind.

In all the time I was here on Earth, she never let me meet him, nor did she
even try to set up visits so he and I could meet face-to-face.  More on
that later though.

Ray Wilson was a military man as I had mentioned earlier.  He had been out
of active duty for the last two years.  While on active duty, he was gone a
lot, but when he was home, he made it clear to me that I was to be the
perfect well-behaved child.  He would scream a lot when I spilled
something, or forgot something concerning my schooling.  One of his
punishments was to make me stand straight up against the wall while he
stood just inches from my face screaming at me for almost ten minutes.
Sometimes though, it would be longer.  Surprisingly, he never hit me.  I
didn't understand that, and when I asked him about it a couple of years
ago, he told me that I wasn't worth going to prison over.  Even at that
age, I thought it was Bullshit what he said.  Still though, I let it go.  I
wasn't trying to give him any new ideas for punishments.  He was already
enough of an abusive Bastard as it was.

Having served in the military for so long, he brought home a really
impressive pay check.  Adding that to the $90.00-an-hour pay check my mom
brought home insured a comfortable life for us.

I could afford anything I wanted, within reason.  Any sort of piece of
adaptive technology that could help with my blindness not being a huge
limitation could be mine without any problem.  I could have had the best
sound system in my room, or the best entertainment center in there as well.
I settled though for a flat screen TV, and a set of speakers I would
connect to my iPod.  They were up there in price, but I wanted that
particular set of speakers since they had the best sound.  I was able to
get the above-mentioned items I wanted thanks to my mom and her husband's
incomes, but even for all the time I lived with them, I never cared about
the rich life style in which I was born.

Our household wasn't a very religious one.  Sometimes my mom, Ray and I
would go to church as a family for Christmas Services, or for Easter
Services.  Unless it was those two holidays, my mom and Ray never went.  I
was usually the one who would go if not every Sunday, then as many as I
could.

Greg Henderson was the pastor at the church I attended which was about five
minutes from our house.  He had been almost like a father to me as I got to
know him.  He was kind, caring and had no use for the Burn in Hell type of
Christianity that was so popular with most preachers around the city.  He
was also one who took a stand in support of the LGBT Community when most of
his colleagues didn't.  As a result of this, his popularity wasn't huge
around our city.  I was glad to see that he accepted everyone as they were.
I didn't understand those who thought that external image and a person's
personal appearance was all that there was to the individual.

Bottom line, I wasn't popular with my mom and Ray, if you already couldn't
tell.  Whether it be my lack of interest in embracing my family's wealth,
my blindness, or having an active religious life.  Any one of those three
things on their own was enough to make me an outcast with my family.  I was
starting to get to the point of not caring what my Mom and Ray thought of
me.  Sure the way they treated me hurt, but I was able to find things to
distract me from the unpleasant living situation I was in while living with
them.

To make a long story short, I was a boy who liked to be around people,
loved listening to a good book or album, as well as wanting to do good for
people.  I don't mean just because I had the money to do so, but because I
really wanted people around me to be alright, and to have what they needed
in life.  My mom and Ray saw me as being too soft, and always said that
they wish that I would toughen up.  They would also say that they wished
that I could get a girlfriend, hopefully soon.  In other words, I couldn't
seem to do anything right according to their standards.

So that was how things were for me for those first 13 years of my life.  I
was thinking about all of this as I finished up the last class of the day.
It was Tuesday, the last day of August, but the first day of school for us.
The classes for that day were light with teachers mainly going over the
class rules for each class.  Homework hadn't been assigned for that day,
and that was something for which I was truly grateful.  I was especially
glad about this since it meant that I could see Pietro. I had planned that
the night before when I said goodbye to him.

After making sure that I had everything packed up, I left class to return
back to my dorm.  Once I let Doug Fields know I was back, I put my class
materials in my room.  Just then, there was a knock on my half-open door.

"Hey Wilson, you going with us to that dance on Thursday at the end of this
week?" Aiden, one of the boys next-door to me, asked.

"Oh fuck," I thought in my head.  "It's not even a month or two into the
school year, and there's already a fucking dance planned!"

I hated the dances the school put on.  To say nothing about the fact that
there were too many people packed into the gym, there was also the blasting
music that was either Rap, Techno, or whatever the current Pop Bullshit was
at that moment.  Sometimes I'd dance with a couple of girls, which was
uncomfortable as hell, but I didn't know why at that time.  Mostly though,
I would just wonder around the gym looking for one of my friends to talk
to.  Shout over the music too, was more like it.  For the most part though,
I would just sit outside on one of the benches reading until the dance was
over.

One might be wondering why I went to the school dances if I didn't enjoy
them.  With the pressure from some of my guy friends not with-standing, all
dorm supervisors would, which practically made it a given that I would go
whether I wanted to or not.

"A dance all-fucking-ready?" I said, tossing down one of my school books on
the desk, totally annoyed now.  "They couldn't wait until the end of
September like they did last year?"

"Oh come on Wilson," Aiden said, walking into my room and flopping down on
my bed as if he owned the place.  "It's not that bad.  You got to dance
with a couple of hot babes at the dances you went to last year.  You'll get
to do that again this year I'm sure.  Besides, it'll give you more
practice.  Who knows, maybe you and a girl might get a little more personal
practice in with each other after the dance."

"Aiden!" I said even more annoyed now.  "First of all, I'm still only 13,
and second, I'm not even looking for anyone.  I'm still waiting to find the
right person."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said waving his hand as if waving away an annoying
fly.  "You're beliefs in relationships and dating being sacred and all
that.  I guess if I continued to wear a device of torture around my neck
day after day, I'd probably have the no-fun kind of thinking you have."

The device of torture he rudely pointed out, was the silver cross I had
around my neck.  Greg gave it to me as a Christmas gift back when I was 11.
I loved it, and when wearing it, I felt even closer to God.  It also served
as a reminder to me about continuing to do the right things in life.

I knew what Aiden meant though when he called it a device of torture.
That's how some Atheists thought about the matter, but it was also how
people who were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
viewed the wearing of a cross as well.  Aiden was a Latter-day Saint, and
though he wasn't the type to push his religion down the throats of
teachers, he was someone who would try to get other kids involved.  I made
it clear right from the start that I wasn't going to be a convert.  He
still tried to hint things to me, but I would brush them off.

"Okay, so I'm a square," I said sitting down at the desk.  "When is this
dance supposed to take place?"

"I'll have to check the schedule again," he said standing up.  "Who knows,
once you get to the gym, there might be a cute girl you can get to know.
We wouldn't want kids getting any ideas that you play for teams you
shouldn't, now would we?"

He smirked as he said that last part, looking at me before leaving, and
closing the door behind him.

"Fucking smug little Bastard," I thought as I checked the clock on my iPod.

Aiden was a year older than I was, but he acted much older than that.  He
was good at leading activities, as well as helping with organizing certain
school events.  He was also good at yelling at kids as if he was a
14-year-old staff member.  He got in my face several times the first year I
was there, and he tried it once more towards the end of the year.  At that
point, I leaned just inches from his face, and after asking if he'd like to
spend half of his Summer Break in the hospital, he backed down.  Up until
that point, I hadn't been one to fight or threaten anyone.  I was usually
one who was scared of violence.  I thought that people could, for the most
part, talk out issues they had with one another.  I still believed that,
but after getting through that first year at the blind school, I was a bit
more hardened.

Aiden backed off for the last several weeks of my first year there, and
seemed to replace verbally bullying me with now nagging me about my dating
life.  It seemed from the conversation I had just had with him, that he was
continuing on with trying to be my dating coach.  It was annoying with him
acting like that at first.  At this point though, I was down-right sick of
it.  Like me, Aiden Foster was a rich kid from one of the other well-off
towns about an hour away from the school.  He came from a huge Mormon
family, and he had seven brothers and one sister who was about a year old.
He carried himself as if he was hot shit, and that annoyed me to start with
just on general principles.

In short, Aiden and I were friends, but had we known each other in my
neighborhood back home, I don't think that he and I would have been
friends.  My mom and Ray probably would have tried to push us together
though.  It wouldn't have surprised me since status and image was all they
really cared about in life.  I was just glad that I only had to listen to
Aiden's Bullshit for a few days out of the week at the school.

I pushed thoughts of Aiden Foster out of my head at that point, then
checked my clock once more.  It was 3:40 P.M.  Putting my iPod in my bag, I
let Doug Fields know where I would be.  Exiting the dorm, I went over to
Pietro's dorm and announced myself.  Jack Smith was the dorm supervisor for
that dorm at the time, and he was a little more down-to-earth than some of
the others.  He let me know that Pietro was in his room.  After he told me
where it was, I went in the direction he described.  I knocked on the
opened door, and I could just barely see Pietro laying on his bed.

When he saw me, he made a vocal sound that left no doubt as to how happy he
was to see me.  He got up from the bed, and walked over to me as quickly as
his unsteady legs would allow.  I wrapped my arms around him as quickly as
he took me in his.  It felt good to be back in his arms, and like the
night, before I felt a void deep within my heart fill up.  For the second
time, I realized as he held me, that the huge void being filled in my heart
had been there.  I knew that it always been there.

I was coming to realize something else as we stood there with me in
Pietro's embrace.  I was realizing that being in his arms felt like coming
home.  It was a feeling that I hadn't ever really known before.  I loved
the feelings awakening within my heart at that moment, and I never wanted
that moment to end!

I separated from Pietro's embrace after another moment though. I didn't
want the staff walking in on us.  I never understood why they were all
weird about physical contact between kids, especially between boys.  While
some were a little more okay with it, others, such as Doug Fields, acted as
if they were about to have a stroke if two boys' hands even so much as
brushed together on accident.

After stepping back from Pietro, it was only at that point that I could
hear that he had been listening to music that was turned down to a low
volume.

"So you were just listening to music since you were back here in your room
this afternoon?" I asked.

He gave me one tap, and guided me over to where his stereo sat.  I use the
word stereo for lack of a better term.  It was a set of speakers to which a
music player had been connected.

"Is it alright if I go through some of what you have here?" I asked.

He gave me one tap.

I went through some of the songs he had.  The music player had no
Text-To-Speech, and the setup appeared to be a simple skip forward, skip
back function for selecting tracks.  A play-stop button was inbetween the
back and forward buttons.  I figured that the setup was easy for Pietro
with his inability to read text, especially what would have appeared on the
player's screen.

Going through the tracks was cool, and there was a lot of Classic Rock from
groups like Pink Floyd, Queen, Billy Joel and others.  It had some of the
stuff on there that I had on my iPod. I was glad to see that he enjoyed
some of the music I liked.

"You and I seem to like a lot of the same groups and singers," I said
placing his music player back down on the desk.

Pietro smiled, then guided me over to the bed.  I sat down after he sat.
He then put his arm around me, and it felt good to be with him like that
again.

I leaned against him further, and he tightened his grip around my shoulders
a little more.  I felt truly protected at that point, and I could have sat
with him like that for the rest of the night.

"I really like spending time with you," I said turning my face to look
directly at him.  "I really love talking to you.  I do have to be honest
though, I worry about how much of what I say that you understand.  I hope I
don't upset you saying that, but I really don't want to go on about stuff,
just assuming that you know about every single thing I'm talking about."

He squeezed my shoulder gently, and I smiled.

"Are you saying that I don't have anything to worry about?" I asked.

One tap.

"That's good," I said.

With that, I told him about my day. Then after getting up to close the
door, I sat back down with Pietro immediately putting his arm around me
again.  I then told him about my conversation with Aiden, then I told him
about who Aiden was.

Pietro made a sound of annoyance at how I described Aiden's smug and
better-than-everyone else attitude.

"I know," I said.  "I don't like shit like that either."

There was a long moment where nothing was said, then as I shifted a little,
the light from the over-head light must have glinted off of my cross.
Pietro moved his left hand up to my chest, and I looked down to see his
hand reaching for the pendant.

"Oh, you must have seen the light reflecting off of it," I said.

One tap.

"I'm guessing you've seen these before?" I went on.

One tap.

I removed the neckless and let him take it.  He held it up so that the
light reflected fully off of it.  He made a few vocal sounds of what could
only be joy and fascination.  I was glad that seeing my cross shine was
making him happy.

After another moment of holding it up to the light, Pietro stood up and
leaned over me attempting to put the neckless around my neck again.  I
showed him how to fasten the clasp, and he quickly got the hang of it.  He
leaned closer as he got the clasp fastened again, and I could sense his
lovely grey eyes looking deeply into my own.

Having Pietro that close to me brought a deep and intense fluttering
throughout my stomach!  I hadn't ever felt anything like that before.  When
his arm brushed the side of my neck after he moved it away once the
neckless settled, I felt a deep electric sensation rush through me!  It
felt like how one feels when a rollercoaster drops suddenly, but with a
deep intense pleasure mixed throughout!  I felt that at that moment, and
though I kept the gasp suppressed, I heard Pietro gasp as if feeling it as
well when he straightened up again.

He sat back down, and I scooted closer to him then he was taking me into
his arms as if he had been longing to do it all day.

I hugged him back, and it was true Heaven being there with him like that.
I leaned against him with my arms wrapped around him as he held me, rubbing
my back up and down gently.  I could also smell him at that point.  He
smelled like whatever deodorant he had on, and I could also smell some of
his own natural scent.  It was an amazing smell, and deeply comforting!

"It feels really good being with you like this," I said looking up at him.
"I know we've only known each other since last night.  Still though, I feel
so safe and cared for when I'm with you."

Pietro smiled, and hugged me tighter for a moment before letting go, and
then he just sat there, holding my hand while continuing to look directly
at me.  It was like time stood still just for us, and like we were the only
ones there!  It was truly amazing!

After another moment, Pietro motioned for me to separate, and I let his
hand go.  He then had my hand rest on his while he tipped it up near his
mouth.  His hand was positioned as if holding a glass.

"You want something to drink?" I asked.

One tap.

"There's a pop machine next to my dorm," I said.  "Would you like something
from there.

One tap.

He stood up at that point, and after taking my arm, we walked out of his
room.  After letting Jack Smith know where we would be, I guided Pietro to
where the pop machine was.  Once reading off all the choices, he put his
finger on the button labeled Pepsi.  Fortunately, the buttons were labeled
in Braille along with being in print.  I put in the change, pressed the
button, and handed him the can once it came out.  I then got a Pepsi for
myself, and we headed back to his dorm.

"Did you want to sit out here on the bench we sat at last night, or go back
in your room?" I asked.

He placed his finger on the left side of the back of my right hand.

"That sounds good," I answered.

Once seated, we enjoyed our drinks as I told him more about what other
hobbies I had.  I told him about the books and authors I liked reading, as
well as telling him more about what other kinds of music I liked listening
to.  I also told him about what happened to cause me to go blind.  He made
a vocal sound of sadness, then squeezed my hand gently.

"I hope you don't feel sorry for me," I said looking at him.

Two taps.

"Do you just feel sad for everything I had to go through?" I asked.

One tap.

"Yeah, going through the pain from the Glaucoma, as well as going through
the surgeries have been the hardest part of it all."

He squeezed my shoulder softly, then finished the last of his Pepsi.

I soon finished what was left in my own can, and after throwing away our
cans, Pietro returned to the bench, sitting down again.

He then thanked me for the drink in the way we came up with last night, and
I smiled.

"You're welcome," I said.  "Anytime.  Also, you don't have to pay me back
for the Pepsi.  That was totally on me."

He smiled, then hugged me.

"You're welcome," I replied.

Soon it was getting to be time for dinner.  I let Pietro know this after
hearing the bell that rang 15 minutes before 5:00 P.M.  The bell was mainly
there to let all the students know that they needed to be ready for when it
was time to go eat.

"It won't be long until dinner time," I said.  "I don't know what we're
having, but I hope it's edible."

Pietro laughed, and I joined him.

I let Pietro know that I'd be back.  I went into my dorm and checked the
Braille menu they had on a bulletin board beside the front office.  I read
the selection for that evening, then returned to where Pietro sat waiting
for me.

"Okay, tonight we're having a true gourmet masterpiece," I said as if
introducing the finest piece of Classical Music known to man.  "Keep in
mind that I'm quoting this directly from the menu.  We're having Spicey
Chicken Sandwich with Bun.  It comes with a side of Bullshit, oops.  I mean
a side of Green Beans and a side of fries."

Pietro was laughing, and his laughing got even more lively when I said a
side of Bullshit before saying what the actual sides were.

"I don't really understand what they get out of calling it a Spicey Chicken
Sandwich with Bun," I went on.  "I mean, like no shit.  If it's called a
Spicey Chicken Sandwich, then we could easily figure that a fucking bun
comes with it."

Pietro was laughing harder now, and I was glad that I could bring him as
much joy and laughter as I was.

"Hopefully the sandwich at least will be good," I said.

Pietro gave one tap as if to agree.

It was getting even closer to 5:00 P.M., and I let Pietro know that I would
have to get going so I could be ready to go up to the school to eat with
the rest of the kids in my dorm.

We walked back to Pietro's dorm, and after a long hug, I told him that I
would see him later.  I walked away from his dorm feeling more joy than I
could have put into words!

Wednesday of that week was a bad day for me.  I knew that I would have Dave
Connelly for my Computer Class.  When I got a copy of my schedule that
Tuesday morning, I read his name beside the class name, and tried to remain
calm.  I had him the year before, and he was no stranger to flying off the
handle, as well as making sarcastic comments, many of which seemed to be
spoken specifically to hurt.

I learned quickly after about three days in his class, to be afraid of him.
Now as this year was getting started, I was beginning to feel anger at him.
He had been tolerable that Tuesday, but that was like saying that getting
scratched by a rat was tolerable rather than getting bit by it.
Unfortunately, Connelly started his Bullshit barely a couple of minutes
into that Wednesday's class.

Dave Connelly was totally blind, and was 35 years old.  According to him,
he had been born blind due to some eye condition I couldn't remember the
name of.  He also was a staunch member of the National Federation of the
Blind, which is an advocacy group of blind people with varying degrees of
vision loss.  I had been to a few of their meetings, and hated every moment
of it.  Not only did they sound like dumb asses who talked out of both
sides of their mouths, but they also sounded like those who kept a copy of
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand by their bedsides every night.

On one hand, they would acknowledge the Ableism thrown at us by society,
and would talk about how it needed to change.  On the other hand though,
they still talked as if every single blind person had a huge income from
which they could just casually grab $5000 to buy the hottest new electronic
note-taking device for the blind such as the Braille Note Touch, or the
Braille Sense.  They were mostly against welfare programs like SSI, Social
Security Disability and the accommodations where blind kids would be given
extra time to take tests if the tests included graphics and pictures.

They would also give the attitudes that, if a blind person wasn't fully
independent and needed even 1% of help or assistance, then they were
deserving of their circumstances.  That's what I meant when I mentioned Ayn
Rand and Atlas Shrugged a moment ago.  The organization would also talk
about how the Vocational Rehabilitation System did things to limit types of
jobs blind adults could get.  The Vocational Rehabilitation System helped
pay for adults to go to college, as well as paying for them to work with
Job Development Agencies.  These agencies would help them find jobs.

The jobs that the system seemed to always push blind people towards would
be jobs such as answering phones at an office all day, or doing data entry
for an office job for eight hours a day.  Most blind people who wanted to
do jobs of their own choosing were continuously pushed towards the
above-mentioned two options of jobs.  While the NFB talked about how this
system was horrible, they would, like abused spouses, go back to them
whenever they needed money or assistance.  It was disgusting, and I had no
use for Bullshit like that!

In short, Dave Connelly fit right in with those people.  I could easily see
him at the meetings agreeing with every single thing they said.  That made
me dislike the abusive Cock Sucker all the more!

As I said, he got right to work being his abusive self that Wednesday
morning, the first week of school.  Clearly this second year of being with
him wasn't going to be any easier.  He started in with me shortly after the
class got seated when I asked if there were any other files that needed to
be opened in addition to our notes.

"Mr. Wilson!" he said raising his voice slightly.  "Didn't you just hear me
say that you needed to open your notes that you started writing yesterday!"

"I heard you say that," I said, working to keep a firm tone in my voice.  I
would be damned if that Bastard was going to make me cry in front of him.

That hadn't happened yet, but it came close several times the year before.

"So what's this crap about opening other files that don't have anything to
do with what we're working on now!" he yelled raising his voice another
level.

"I was just making sure I wasn't missing anything," I said struggling to
keep my voice firm.

"I'm glad to see you're attempting to pay at least a little attention to
detail," he said acidly.  "No, you're dealing with the notes and file
specific to said notes.  When you need to open any additional documents,
I'll be sure to let you know."

"Okay," I said.  "I understand."

"That's a matter of opinion, but I'll take your word for it," he said.

There was laughter from a couple of the boys who looked up to him.  One of
them was Aiden Foster, and I wasn't the least bit surprised.

Aiden hadn't had him for Computer Class the year before, but did have him
for after-school tech lessons, and liked him immediately.  Of course he
did.  They both lacked a huge amount of empathy and understanding for
anyone who wasn't privileged, mean-spirited and well-off.

Things continued without any issues until the last ten minutes of class.
Though I had saved all the changes I had been making to my document, the
computer crashed and restarted.  I called for Connelly, and he came over.
I explained the situation.

"I just had that computer checked yesterday after the class we had," he
said smugly.  "Unless it was a Blue Screen of Death, then you probably hit
a key stroke that did something."

"All I did was hit Alt-F4 to close the document, then I was Alt-Tabbing to
close the internet," I said.  "I'm sure I didn't hit anything else."

"Yeah, sure," he said giving a snort of disgust.  "I'll never understand
how all these other kids master this stuff like ducks to water, but you're
always having some sort of problem.  I keep telling you about how you need
to follow directions.  Clearly it's not working."

"Like I said," I went on.  "I don't know what I did."

"Well, you better figure it out soon!" he said losing his patients
completely now.  "You think a boss is going to put up with you needing
someone to hold your hand all the time when you get a job once you become
an adult! No, they're not!  You had better start learning this stuff now!
I've had enough of this. Other people might put up with your crap, but I
won't!"

"I'm trying to learn this," I said struggling to keep my voice from shaking
and a creeping nausea from getting stronger.

"Yeah, sure," he said.  "That's why I'm standing here practically holding
your hand through all this, like you're some mentally challenged child.
Never mind though, we only have one more minute of class.  I'll look at the
computer and see what you did."

"Okay," I said as I stood up quickly, putting everything in my bag.

I left the room, and my nausea was in full force now.  That was one thing
that started as I began attending the school last year.  I began feeling
nausea sometime within the second week of being there, and a couple of days
after that, I threw up in the boy's restroom for the first time.  I figured
that it was stress, since I had been dealing with a lot of shit from
earlier that particular day.  My throwing up didn't happen too often, but
there were a couple of days towards the end of the year that saw me in the
restroom throwing up two extra times.

When I told my mom what had happened the first time I threw up, she, as
usual, did nothing.  She said that I needed to learn to relax.  Now though,
as I ran into the boy's restroom that Wednesday my first week back at the
school, I felt my stomach fluttering more rapidly.  I found one of the
empty stalls, and once in, I began throwing up everything I ate that
morning.  I was lucky to be over the toilet bowl just in time.

After everything was up, I stood there waiting for my legs to stop feeling
like rubber.  It passed, then I washed my face, ate a couple of breath
mints and headed to my next class.  I was trying to wrap my mind around the
fact that the first week barely passed, and already I was having trouble
getting through it all.  Then, with my heart racing, I wondered hard about
how I would even begin getting through the next week then the one after
that.  , As I neared the door to the room were my next class was, I
remembered thinking about how I felt. It was like I was in a deep dark
hole, screaming to be let out.  No one heard of course.  That made it feel
even worse.  With those thoughts running around in my mind I opened the
door and entered the class room.

I saw all the outlines of kids sitting at their desks, and could hear them
talking as they waited on the teacher to arrive.  Sitting down, I took in
everything, and could hardly understand how it worked that I was among
several other kids in that room, but felt more alone than I ever had
before.  I thought about Pietro at that point, and began calming down.  He
was at least one rare person in that school who had been kind as well as
caring towards me.

I hoped that he and I would be friends for always.  I knew at that moment
that I couldn't ever picture my life without him.  That thought continued
to stay with me as the teacher came in and introduced herself.  We began
class after that.

Author's Notes

I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter.  Nohea and Pietro are clearly
getting closer, and even more comfortable around each other.  That will
continue, and I hope you guys like how things go in the next chapter.

As for what happened between David Connelly and Nohea, I can imagine that
that wasn't easy to read.  You'll get to see how that situation continues
to unfold as well.  I hope you guys like what I do with that as we go
forward.  Also, I wanted to say since I haven't addressed it yet, but
anything sexual will be happening at a slow pace.  In other words, there
won't be sex immediately by Chapter Three.  However as those of you who've
been reading for years know, that's how it goes with my stories.

All that being said, I hope everyone is having a good evening, and I'll see
you all in Chapter Three.