Eddsworld- Child's Demon (TomTord) DISCONTINUED

Chapter One- Day One Is Over

Chapter 1

He panted, his hand curled into a fist, out of anger. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his oddly horn-spiked hair messy. His crimson red sweater was covered in sweat, and a deeper shade of red.

Blood.

His grey pants had dirt marks on the knee area, which was ripped. Almost like if someone fell, and scrapped their knee. Multiple times. His grey shoes had some dirt on it as well, not as much though.

The same crimson liquid that covered the Norwegians sweater, was splattered on the wall. Some of it was on his fist too.

Cries.

That's all Tord heard.

The cries, screams, and yells of the kids, who were injured, by him.

"MOMMY!" A kid screamed at the top of his lungs. "IT HURTS!" They began to sob, tears rolling down their cheeks.

Tord slightly growled, still mad. It wasn't his fault... technically. The kid didn't have to call him a demon. Tord always blamed these things on other kids for picking on him. He felt as if he was never at fault, when he always was. He's a child, what else can you expect?

"Wha... What have you DONE?!" A teacher yelled. She went to aid the hurt child, who was trying to be helped by their mother already.

"He's a monster! He shouldn't be hurting kids!" The mother yelled.

Monster

Monster....

Monster....!

Tord hated that word. It was the most common word people used to describe the Norwegian. It rang in his head.
It rang in his mind. He wanted it to stop. Tord was never a monster. Nor a Demon. His fathers always told him that. No matter what other kids said to him.

Tord clenched his fist, along with his jaw. His parents tried to help him with his anger issues. Lessons, lectures, they never helped. Tord only knew one way to let out anger.

Curling up your fist. Aiming at something, more likely, someone, and swing.

It became easier and easier for him. He'd done it so many times, it wasn't anything knew for Tord. He'd get scolded, punished, time outs, but he just kept at it. No one knew why. He just... couldn't be helped. Not in a way anyone knew.

"IM NOT A MONSTER!" He yelled, shaking his head, shutting his eyes. His breath quickened, and he couldn't think straight. His only thoughts were to rid of his anger.

He picked up one of the plastic chairs at a table, and threw it at the teacher, a grunt escaping his lungs. He was surprisingly strong for a child, being able to lift objects many other kids couldn't. To him, he was just strong, like those superheroes in comics.

To others?
Just another reason to call him a monster.

The teacher moved out of the way, trying to protect the child.

"STOP AT ONCE TORD!" She yelled. But it was practically useless. Tord was sent to classroom, after classroom, new teacher after another. He got sick of it. No teacher was able to control him. He was constantly moved from classroom, messing with his education at times.