It had rained for three straight days and for three straight days, I didn’t see him. I don’t know if it was because of what he did or what he said. The firmness in his voice made me shrudder and his hand ripping across my face made a scar that I couldn’t cover up.
Who knew that in high school, that you could get abused? And because I have known Peter this long, it was so hard to understand why he had done such an act. I can still remember that night:

It was at his house and we were alone again because his parents were away at Peter’s sick Grandmother’s house. And you know what that means. Parties. So I got there early to help Peter set up. He was quieter than usual. And his eyes would never trail towards me. So about an hour later, the party starts.
Like usual, Peter has a keg of beer for his buddies (that I’ve never liked) and like always, they get drunk. But this time, its worse than ever. They are going home to get guns.
“Stop it guys!” I yelled “Or i’ll call the police!”
Peter stared.