Found and Flirty (Finding Forever #2)

Prologue

Mack

T here are billions of people on this earth, millions of families, thousands of groups of friends. Hundreds of souls that have found their mate, yet I am all alone. I don't have a place, I don't have a person and I don't fit in anywhere.

I've felt this way for the last eight years, since I turned fourteen and life went to shit. As if being a teenager wasn't hard enough, throw in the fact that I'd already passed six feet tall and was the skinniest kid you've ever seen. Kids are cruel and something inside me snapped and broke into a million pieces when the relentless bullying began.

I'd gone from being in the popular crowd, to being the outcast in an instant. I was always the shy, quiet kid. The kid that disappeared under the radar and was quite often forgotten about. I was happy with that, as long as I wasn't anyone's target then I was content to just plod along. The popular kids took me under their wing, let me come along for the ride. I'm pretty sure they felt sorry for me. Poor little quiet Mack who found it hard to make friends.

All was fine, until I outgrew them all and became an embarrassment to be around, then I became the easy target, the one to pick on and have a laugh at my expense.

It started off innocent enough, little back handed comments meant to belittle me. I tried to laugh along with the joke, whilst inside I was dying a little bit more every single day. The jokes were relentless and the name calling was brutal. I was quickly cast aside by everybody, the tall, lanky, spotty kid who had no one.

I can recall plenty of times when the name calling became more. As we all got older and the hormones began to rage, so did the other kids arse-holery. I quite often hid in the school bathrooms to eat my lunch, not that I could stomach anything by the time lunchtime came around and I'd had a full morning of kids being dicks to me. Every lesson I made sure I sat at the back of the classroom so that nobody could sneak up behind me and smear their chewing gum into my hair. More than once, my mum had needed to shave my head because she just couldn't get it out.

Things got progressively worse over the next year, as I got lankier, spottier and quieter, the other kids got crueller. The boys in a physical way, but it was the girls viciousness that broke me. The little taunts, the cruel comments, the whispers and snickers as I passed by. I begged my mum every single day not to send me, I couldn't handle it anymore. It was getting to the point of no return, something inside my soul was broken and I just wanted to die. I spent my evenings sat on my bed, rocking myself silly, sobbing so hard that no sound came out, as my phone absolutely blew up with messages. There was no escape, I wasn't safe at school and I wasn't safe at home. I felt completely worthless, totally out of control of my own life and I couldn't see a way to make it stop.

My mum fought for me, she tried to get things to stop but by that point I was too far gone and the schools idea of trying to help was to make me stand out even more. I was given a pass that I could show the teacher to get out of class early if I couldn't handle it. I was let out five minutes before all the other kids at the end of each lesson too, giving me enough time to flee, as if I didn't stand out enough already.

Instead of dealing with the kids that were being arseholes, I was singled out and made to look a fool.

'Oh look, Mack has anxiety.' 'Oh look, Mack can't deal with it, he's so sensitive.' 'Oh look, let's take Mack to the doctor because there must be something wrong with him.' Not once did anybody turn around and look at all the other kids who were the scum of the earth, it wasn't their fault. There was just something wrong with me.

It's a funny feeling you know, on one hand it's like there's a huge neon sign above your head saying 'Look! It's Mack, let's bully him until he wants to die!' But on the other hand you feel so incredibly invisible. You are left to suffer, left to deal with the pain. Left to turn into a shell of a person, no personality left, no joy, no hope. Completely empty.

One night, I sat in the bath with one of my mum's razor blades pressed against the veins in my wrist. I just wanted it to stop, I wanted the pain to go away. I was done, I couldn't handle it anymore. I pressed that razor until it broke the skin and I sobbed until I couldn't catch my breath. I was fifteen at this point and couldn't find a single reason to live anymore.

My mum found me that night, blood dripping into the bath, sobs wracking my body. She held me tight and told me that I was done. I was done with going to school, I was done seeing those people everyday. She held me close, tears streaming down her own cheeks.

My mum saved my life that night, she saved my soul and she gave me a second chance.