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    Parker Owens
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A to Z - 2. Noticed

Warnings for violence, abuse, and sexual assault. Read with appropriate caution.

May 2

Nope. Nobody noticed I was missing. I try hard to be invisible, and it works most of the time. It’s never a good thing to let other people know you’re there. If other kids in school see me, it’s because they want to make fun of the way I look or the way I’m dressed or something. If Dad takes notice of me, he’s either going to yell at me, or I’m going to get hit.

I am so glad for this chance to write stuff down. When I don’t understand things, I don’t really have anyone I trust to ask about them. There won’t be any answers, but it’s good to get thoughts out of your system so they don’t bug you all the time.

So, first question today: why is it that some people can’t seem to have a good day without making someone else feel like crap? At lunch in school, I sat down at my usual table, out of the way and on my own. A few minutes later, a few junior guys (I’m a sophomore) show up and tell me to get out. They weren’t really nice about it. It seems they needed the table for a big secret meeting they were going to have. There weren’t any other open tables, so I got to eat lunch outside by the main doors.

Second question: why is it the people who look like they should be safe and nice are really the nastiest of the bunch? Last year, there was this blond kid who had the whole package. Perfect hair, bright white smile, golden tan, stylish shirt – absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t help wanting the fairytale – we’d hang out, talk about books, maybe play ball or something – we’d be friends. I fell for it, and allowed myself to be visible. I sat near him at lunch, and spoke up in classes, so maybe he’d notice me a little.

Fairy tales aren’t for real. He made sure to make fun of my uncut hair, and my worn-out thrift store clothes. He carefully and loudly pointed out these and all my other shortcomings to his popular friends, too. It took them six weeks to get tired of me as their target. I went back to perfecting my camouflage and invisibility.

Then there’s Uncle Ray. He’s Dad’s younger brother, I think. He’s a handsome, rugged, good-looking guy – at least, that’s what he seemed like on the outside. He smiled a lot and had this big, hearty laugh. When I was a kid, he’d come to visit, and he’d want to play with me, and take me to the park and stuff. At the time, I thought it was cool. It wasn’t until I was a little older that I noticed his eyes got this really creepy look, like he’s a big cat, and you’re the mouse trapped in the corner.

Uncle Ray came to visit not too long before Mom left home. I still remember him, looking at me with his creepy eyes, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap - so he could read me a bedtime story, he said. He kept shifting me around in his lap, and it got him all hard. I could feel it poking me through my PJs. I didn’t know what it all meant – I mean, I was only eight years old – but it scared me, and I wanted to get out. Luckily, Mom somehow saw what was happening, and scooped me up and put me to bed.

I don’t want to think anymore about Uncle Ray – it just hurts to remember.

But I know that Mom and Dad fought about Uncle Ray. I heard them yelling about his visits. They were arguing a lot back then, and I can still hear Mom shouting that she wouldn’t have Uncle Ray in the house. I also remember Dad yelling that he wouldn’t turn away his own flesh and blood, and that Mom would damn well welcome Ray the next time he came to visit – or else.

I hid under my blankets and covered my ears after that, because the fight got really ugly.

Uncle Ray came to stay at the house for a whole month after Mom went away. He’d come to stay, he said. Said he was there to comfort Dad and his poor, motherless child. I was miserable then, and I don’t want to think about those weeks. Uncle Ray still haunts my nightmares. Then, like Mom, he disappeared one day. No explanation from Dad, nothing. Just gone.

I didn’t see Uncle Ray again until he visited for a couple of nights last year. He looked like he’d had a tough time between visits. He’d kept his ruggedness, but he seemed a lot older somehow. Said he was between jobs or something. Still the same creepy eyes, still looking at me like a tasty piece of meat. I blocked my door with him in the house. You just can’t trust a good-looking man with a nice smile.

Or take that group of juniors today. Their leader was a pretty good-looking guy. He has a nice smile and seems to laugh a lot when I see him at lunch. Good guy right?

Fat chance.

He came up to me, flashed this fake smile and said:

“Hey pipsqueak, me and my friends need this table. Get lost.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. There really wasn’t much to say. His friends were there to back him up, and what could I do? Still, I was too slow to reply, because he bent down his head closer to mine and whispered:

“I’ll give you ten seconds, you little shit. If you don’t move, we’ll stomp your sorry little rat face into the ground the minute school gets out, got that?”

I moved.

Third question: why do I care what that guy thinks about me? He was an asshole to me, but I swear I was ready to apologize and grovel. I just wanted him to like me. Why? It’s not about getting along. I can get along fine, and I avoid getting beaten up nearly every time. But when I let myself think about making a friend – which isn’t very often – it’s always some boy I want to get to know. When I have some kind of fantasy, I think about a good looking guy – not a girl. You get it? Not that any of the girls at school are interested in me at all. There is so much about me I wish was different, and that’s just one more thing.

It all goes back to what someone deserves or doesn’t. Dad is probably right, and it seems that God – if there is one – agrees. I’m one of the bits of cosmic waste in this world. I get in the way and screw things up. After all the things I do wrong and all the problems I cause, I get what I deserve when I get hurt.

In history class, we studied about religions that believe you come back as something else after you die in another life. If you did good, you came back as a higher being – if you sinned, you came back as something lower. Next time, I think I’m coming back as one of those shiny, black bugs everyone steps on as soon as they see it.

May 5

James Ackerman. That’s the name of the junior who kicked me out of my table. The really hot junior who kicked me out of my table. The hot, asshole junior who noticed me again today. Not in a good way.

The bodycheck into my locker was no mistake, despite the “Oops, sorry, ratface,” apology. The shit-eating grin on his face was kind of a giveaway. "Bad luck."

Just my bad luck that I can't stop looking at a hot guy. Just my bad luck that good looking boys and I don't mix. We have a terrible history.

So it was just my usual bad luck that I was coming out of the locker room after Gym class as James Ackerman was coming in. I hate locker rooms and gym showers. I either run late or leave really early from Gym class if I can slip away in time. I never, ever let anyone see me changing – people ask stupid questions about the marks on my back if I do. Sometimes I hide out in the toilet stall to change so that nobody sees. This time, I was late.

He was wearing a letterman’s jacket and I caught his name embroidered on it, just before I caught a fist to the gut.

“What are doing in here, ratface? Hanging out to spy on real men?” He hauled me up by my hoodie so he could look me in the eye.

“Do you get your rocks off looking at other guys, ratface? Huh?”

Now was definitely not the time to admit the truth. It was all I could do to shake my head. He threw me back against the wall, and I slid to the floor. He bent down over me, and I tried to back away from his beautiful, terrible face.

He wasn’t smiling his model’s smile now.

“I never, ever, want to see your pansy-faced, faggoty ass in this locker room again, got that ratface? Now get out.”

Then James Ackerman, that very hot, very nasty junior, aimed a pretty good kick at my midsection. He must be a soccer player or something.

Anyhow, I got out.

Why is it that the beautiful people are so nasty? They fool you with their good looks, but their hearts are evil.

So now I have to find a way to become invisible to James Ackerman, or stay out of his way.

My sincere thanks to Craftingmom for her heroic editing.

A review of any kind is most welcome.

Copyright © 2016 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

On 10/04/2015 03:35 AM, skinnydragon said:

Well things just seem to be getting worse every day for Stefan.

You portrayed this very well , Parker, because you captured Stefan not thinking things are getting worse, only more of the same. Which definitely is worse! :(

Hopefully there's a tiny light ahead, unless you're gonna torture us for a few more chapters. :pissed:

Can't wait!

More chapters in process. Stefan is in trouble, and we only get to see how he sees his world. And what we see through his eyes isn't pretty. Thank you for reading this; it takes me forever to write anything.

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On 10/04/2015 05:55 AM, Puppilull said:

I know who I'd like to kick in the gut... Gah! To see Stefan view himself as cosmic waste... That's tough. Kids are often cruel.

Stefan is good at enduring. It's what he knows. But it hurts to hear him have to write about it.

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On 10/04/2015 04:24 AM, Defiance19 said:

What a bleak outlook for young Stefan. His own dismal retelling is with every word, heartbreaking. No one he can trust, befriend and he feels unworthy. Yet he keeps going, barely surviving so there is strength in him somewhere. I hope he finds it and his beacon soon. Also, uncle Ray too? Shame.

Good chapter..

It is very bleak. Stefan must find some way to live with what happens, and it is a testament to s spirit that he manages.

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On 10/04/2015 04:16 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Parker, god this poor kid. I hope he meets a champion soon. Poor f'kr. And at home, at least he had his mum for a while... like I did. Mine passed when I was 15..

Good job on this sad but too real story.



Poor kid is right. Some kids just can't or don't know how to get out, and they get trapped in this kind of misery. Sometimes the way out is even worse.

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On 10/04/2015 11:56 AM, flamingo136 said:

I feel hopeless after reading....which makes me feel even worse knowing that poor Stefan actually endured this shit and how he suffered.......Hate the storyline, love your writing it tho'....you'ev captured the raw black hole in which Stefan lives.........:) Mike

It is a black hole, and it's made worse by Stefan's not really understanding how black it is. All he can do is tell his journal about it. The pages are the only things he can trust.

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On 10/28/2015 04:36 AM, aditus said:

It's difficult to read this. Not only the brutality, but the hopelessness. I'll come back as one of those black bugs...it almost made me cry. Or his observation that the good looking guys have ugly souls...

I will definitely read on, but I'll always need a day in between chapters.

I don't blame you for needing time between chapters. This is a dark, dark story, at least for the first block of chapters. There will be light, as some of the reviews later on indicate. But that will be longer in coming than poor Stefan would hope.

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The first time around, I wasn't sure if I was going to like this story. It's just so dark at the beginning.


Well, I know that if reincarnation is real, Stefan isn't going to be a bug that gets stepped on. He'll be something much more beautiful. Possibly a graceful swan like the fairy tale about the ugly duckling. Maybe a hummingbird with iridescent feathers, beating his wings so fast you can't see them, but able to hover in place sipping sweet nectar from flowers!


Stefan is surrounded by plague-infested fleas, the rats they live on, and the cesspool they call a school.

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Stefan has a bad outlook on his life, thinking that if he's reincarnated he'll come back as one of the black bugs everyone steps on. I think Uncle Roy needs to be castrated for getting turned on by an 8 year old boy who's his nephew. I'm glad that Stefan's mom caught on to uncle Roy's game and was able to stop him from molesting Stefan that night, I don't like the fact that his dad was mad at his mom for sticking up for her son. Stefan's mom left due to the abuse she endured at the hands of her husband. Now that she's gone Stefan's the one who gets abused because his mom's gone.  I'm glad that Stefan was smart enough to block his door the last time uncle Roy came to visit. Stefan has to not only try to not get beat at home but also at school, he's different so he's an easy target for all of the bullies at school. It's no wonder that he feels that he has to be invisible at school and home. I can understand why Stefan feels the way he does I was bullied in school myself. Great story, thanks for writing it. 

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When I checked to see what I wrote that @Butcher56 reacted to, I was struck by just how short the chapter is! I don’t think I could have endured a long chapter filled with so much pain. I would imagine it would have been too difficult for you, @Parker Owens to write!  ;-)

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3 hours ago, droughtquake said:

When I checked to see what I wrote that @Butcher56 reacted to, I was struck by just how short the chapter is! I don’t think I could have endured a long chapter filled with so much pain. I would imagine it would have been too difficult for you, @Parker Owens to write!  ;-)


You are certainly correct about that. 

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9 hours ago, Higster said:

Stefan's family just all seem very messed up.


Yes, it is a truly horrible household. Stefan’s father is one of those pathologically abusive people who cannot seem to love. 

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