Secret Santa (BoyxBoy)

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"Attention students!" The principles voice came over the squeaky intercom, making me wince.

"It's that time of year again, time for everyone to get assigned for their Secret Santa! Yes, I know you guys are very excited, so I'll talk quickly so you can get your names." He said. I rolled my eyes, putting my head down on the desk. I could care less about secret Santa, they do this every fucking year and every year I get a stupid gift. Every time. Ugh.

"Okay kids. This years party will be held in the gymnasium, not cramped up in the cafe. Make sure to bring at least one baked good so that we have enough food to feed everyone. That's all for announcements, have a great day everyone." His voice cut out, immediately people started chatting about the secret Santa stuff.

Being a secret Santa for someone is such a hassle, you have to keep it a secret and manage to get to know them enough that you know what kind of gift to get them. Like how the fuck are we supposed to buy a gift for a practical stranger? It's dumb.

"Okay kids, take one and pass them around." Our home room teacher giving the kid in the front the stack of envelopes. She passed them around, and slowly it was making its way to me. I took an envelope, passing the rest of them behind me. Hopefully I get a girl this year.

"Alright kids! Open them up!" The teacher giggled. She's way too excited for this.

I sighed, opening up the envelope. The card had a picture of a smiling Santa on it, but it wasn't amused.

I opened the envelope, my eyes widening as I read the name. I read it a few times over, just to make sure I wasn't going crazy.

"No. No no no." I groaned, putting the card down and dropping my head into my hands. This can't be fucking happening to me right now.

"Yo, you good dude?" The guy to the left of me asked. I shook my head, breathing in and out deeply. Out of all the people in the whole entire school, I get this bastard.

I raised my hand, asking to go to the bathroom. I bolted out of the room, going into the men's bathroom and leaning against the sink. I splashed some coin water on my face, trying to calm down.

I looked up at the mirror at my ghostly complexion, my shaggy brown hair a mess. I ran a hand through it, sighing.

Why am I freaking out, you may be wondering, well, I got Ryker fucking Wright.

Ryker Wright has been bullying me since the seventh grade. I don't know what I did to make him hate me so much, but randomly one day he just started to bully me seemingly out of nowhere.

It wasn't always physical. At first it started with verbal. He would always make fun of my clothes and my personality quirks in front of everyone, making me feel really out of place or unwanted. Then, when we hit the eighth grade, it escalated to physical pain. He pushed me into the lockers and locked me in empty classrooms without telling people where I was, so I'd be stuck there for hours.

It didn't get really bad bad until high school. That's when the real bearings came, and the taunting calling me 'fag' and 'queer' came into play. I don't even know where that came from, because I'm not even gay.

Either way, I can't stand the bastard and he always catches me at random times for random shit. One time he literally hit me because I was walking in the same direction as him. That was it. The guy is fucking mental.

And I know what you're thinking, I only have to give him the gift on one day of the year and that's it, but there's more to it. You have to do things I. Between then and now, and it's bullshit. I just think it's crazy that out of the 1,200 kids that go tot his school, I get him.

I don't even know why I'm a target, I'm an average kid. Brown hair, brown eyes, glasses. I'm not short or tall, I'm in the middle. Average grades, average social life: I don't get what you exactly makes me a target.

"Kill me now." I groaned, letting myself hunch over slightly.

"We'll look what we have here." I heard that familiar, spine tingling voice behind me. Speak of the fucking devil.

I peeked up, looking in the mirror at Ryker behind me. He had that familiar evil smirk on his face, so I knew what that meant.

He planned on hurting me.

"What're you doing in here?" He asked, walking up closer behind me.

"I-I was just getting ready to leave." I said, trying to turn and leave. He grabbed my arm, throwing me against the wall. I gasped, the wind being knocked out of me.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the greatest mood today and I need something to use as a punching bag." He said.

"Ryker please not today." I begged.

"No, I'm hitting you, it's not like you can stop me." He said, throwing his fist into my stomach. My stomach lurched and I hunched over, groaning.

Fucking great.

"Awe, are you okay? You poor thing." He said in mock concern, chuckling to himself.

"Wow, making yourself laugh, so cool." I said sarcastically. He punched me again, forcing a cough to rip through my throat.

"Shit your fucking mouth fat, you're always talking back to me." He growled.

"Let me just say, got the trillionth time, I'm not gay." I groaned, clutching my stomach. He shoved me again the wall hard, making me lose my balance and fall to the floor.

"Why do you insist on putting me in an even worse mood?" He asked, looking down at me. I didn't say anything, just groaned, which made him smile.

He kicked me a few times in the ribs, my broken cried bouncing against the ceramic walls of the bathroom. I dry heaved, feeling my stomach trying to empty out the food I didn't have.

"You know why it's so fun kicking the shit out of you? Because you don't even fight back, you let me beat you up every day and you don't even fight back. It's hilarious." He said, looking down at me with that familiar blank, emotionless stare he always has. His dull blue eyes always managed to force fear into my heart.

"Don't tell anyone." He said, like he said after every time he beats me up. He kicked me one last time and left the bathroom. I laid on the floor for a while, the cold tile feeling like nothing compared to the places where he punched me, my torso burning with pain.

After what felt like forever, the pain died down to a dull throb, and I pushed myself up off the floor. He always made sure to punch me in places that won't be seen, so that when he's done beating the shit out of me nobody can tell anything is wrong unless ti remove clothes. Usually I keep the beating to myself, but these days Ryker is getting reckless, and my friends are Stratton go to notice the bruises.

I looked in the mirror, lifting my shirt and wincing. I could already see the nasty bruises forming. These were not going to be easy to hide.

I dropped my shirt, groaning and walking back to class.

Now you guys can see why I absolutely despise Ryker Wright.