They swear I'm fucking crazy, ain't nothing gonna save me
My head slammed on the table as the bully passed by. I felt blood sipping into my mouth and run down my nose. Covering it which the sleeve of my sweater, I picked up my things and left. The teacher glanced at me, but didn't say anything even though he knew clearly what had happened.
I wasn't expecting him to do so either, for every single 'authority' here were mere talking trash with legs and arms that tapped about shit we didn't want to know about.
As I made my way through the crowded hallway, I felt someone pull me inside a darkened room. I gulped and waited for my eyes to adjust. It didn't take long before it happened and that's when I saw my friends. I smiled at them and gave them a little present I had received last week from my brother.
They grinned, and because they knew I didn't smoke, they kicked me out the room.
Shuffling and not looking, I ran into the douche who had made my nose run. He snickered shoving me up on the lockers and I shut my eyes close. His fist collided with my cheek and then he threw me inside a room his pal had opened. They all stalked in, a group of six or so, giving me a look of hatred and disgust.
Why do they hate me so much?
What had I done to them ever?
"You know Felix." The bully began speaking and kneeling before me. I quivered backing away. "I hate how much of a pussy you are. So how about we teach you to be a man? My father taught me how to."
"N-No.." I begged not wanting to be beaten up again.
He merely grimaced in disgust and spit on my face.
"I'll teach you how to be a man." He snickered taking his belt off and wrapping the tip around his hand.
I'm breaking I feel it! I'm naked I'm kneeling! I'm shaking I'm reeling!
I sobbed hugging myself. It was very cold and I didn't have enough strength to move. My entire body stung from the wounds the buckle of the belt left on my body. Sniffing, I reached for my bag that was thrown under the teacher's desk on the process and fished for my phone.
Once I took it out, I saw there were over 71 missed calls from home. My eyes closed, feeling tears slid down my cheeks.
I bet they'll yell at me again for arriving home late. I better hurry.
Whining, I stood up and picked my sweater from the floor. I slid it back on careful not to touch the open wounds, picked my bag and jumped over the window of the classroom. It was damn night, so I was sure that the doors were locked.
Once I reached home, I was welcomed by a yelling father. I tuck my hands in my pockets and decided to head straight to my room and ignore them completely. It's not like they'll enter my room, they never do. Not ever since they saw me and one of my friends fuck.
I dropped my bag on the floor and went in my bathroom to tend my wounds. I cried as I took the heavy clothing off and let it drop on the floor. There were so many wounds I could hardly count them. Some were blue, some had already turned purple. Green marks, redness everywhere and swelling jagged skin.
I grabbed a towel, put it in my mouth and poured rubbing alcohol all over my body. Tears ran down my eyes from the unbelievable amount of pain. When the bottle was emptied, and blood had stained not only my clothes but the carpet of the bathroom, I stepped into the shower and let the water massage my numb body.
I winced and cried, but I tried my best to stand it.
Eventually, my jeans had grown too heavy for my hips to keep holding, so I kicked them off of me and went for a bath. The soap stung my everything, but I wanted to rub the stupid blood off my body. I looked so dirty and it annoyed me.
