Letter To Casey

3. "He read it."

Samson was at his last period before lunch, with Joey. Joey was being really annoying. Shaking his shoulder whenever he spaced out asking him what was wrong. The obnoxious yapping. Joey was a yapper. Even so, Sam just knew he was nervous and worried for him. Joey could tell there was something wrong with Sam, but he never knew how to cheer anyone up.

Sam vividly remembers when he found him standing by a crying boy one day after school, in middle school. He stood there awkwardly, occasionally patting the boy's back as he kept a distance.

Sam ripped Joey's hand off of his shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Joey. I didn't sleep well. You don't have to do anything to cheer me up." He reassures him.

"Oh- okay. Sam." Joey says. "But then I'll feel bad."

"Well I don't want you to either, and you'll feel worse if I have to punch you in the face for vigorously shaking my shoulder, the way you do, you psychopath." Sam smiles, but it isn't necessarily a nice one.

Joey awkwardly titters. "Okay, Sam."

The bell rang and Joey jumped up, excited to finally be able to hang out with all the guys during lunch.

Sam, not so much.

He knew he'd be bothered because of the mood he was in right now. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it, and didn't know how to hide it. "Joey, you can go without me. I'm gonna go hit a fat dump. I got mud butt so I'll be awhile." Sam lies, clasping his hands and walking away, trying to mask the reason why he was in a mood, like his classic unwanted and detailed diarrhea stories he told so he could miss a day of school. They always worked well because he used to have stomach problems.

"Okay! See ya, man!" Joey exclaims, waving and walking the other way.

Sam made sure to keep his hood on and put his head down so he wouldn't attract any attention. "Oh.. what am I doing hiding myself? If I was going to be this paranoid I should've just skipped a day of school." He mumbles to himself. In the opposite direction of all the people, he entered a mostly empty hallway, approaching the boy's locker room that led to the gymnasium. He sat on one of the benches that hid by a shower stall, away from the view of both exits. Finally able to relax and put his mind at ease, he took a deep breath. "Maybe I'm thinking about it too much.." Sam reassured himself. "Nothing happened yet, so he probably didn't even read it."

Sam got up from the bench and let out one more strong and heavy exhale. His goosebumps were gone. It was a little hot in the boy's locker room. He made his way back to the door,

Just as he pressed his fingertips right up on the handle of the boy's locker room exit, he felt a whiff of air brush against his nape. A force.

A hand?

Sam's head bangs against one of the lockers, causing a dent in it. He scrunched his face, his eyes shut tight as he groans and tries to endure the pain without screaming in agony. He can feel a hand around his throat. He squints his eyes open as his arms tremble, grasping at the arm that firmly held his neck, pinning and pressing him against the locker. His head throbbed. His voice hoarse, he attempted to speak within a gasp of air. "C-a-..sey..?" He spoke, his voice almost in a hiss, and he coughs.

"You think you're funny?!" Casey seeps his nails within Sam's neck, digging them within his skin.

It stung. Sam persistently smacked Casey's arm with his left hand. "Let me--.. let me.. go..!" He made out.

Casey released his hold, causing Samson to drop down on the floor. He coughed vigorously, and looked up at Casey. "What is wrong with you?!" He shouted, furiously.