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He crumpled a pink detention slip and threw it to the ground as he stormed towards Denton, violent intentions all too clear.

I stared at the tension between Heller like a fool, too stunned to react. As a gear cranked into action in my brain, so did I.

Heller grabbed a fistful of Denton's collar and lifted it, forcing Denton to stand on his toes. His other hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist reared back and ready to explode it's force onto Denton's beautiful face.

"Wait!"

"Whiskey, get behind me. I'll deal with you soon," Heller growled out.

"First of all since when do you call me Whiskey? Second of all what do you mean 'deal with me later'?! And third,  and most importantly, don't punch him!" I rambled on and on.

"Give me one good reason not to."

"Uh, cause it's bad?"

"Insufficient." The tension released in Heller's raised fist, landing hooked on Denton's cheekbone. Heller didn't let go of his collar, so his throat was choked as his neck pulled away from Heller from the impact of the punch.

I gasped and ran between the two and pushed Heller away as hard as I could. He complied and let go of Denton, taking a few steps back. Without Heller's support, Denton stumbled a bit on his own two feet. Heller glared blades at Denton, his body crouched like he was ready for a fight. Denton was a rich white boy, what did he expect?

"What the hell man?!" Denton moaned, holding his face, bent over. I held him, trying to provide some comfort. I was soon, however, ripped away by two very rough hands that held me behind Heller.

"Don't ever fucking try that again, or you will spend the rest of your life trying to remember how to breath." Denton hobbled off like a hurt puppy and I tried to go after him, but I was held firmly in place. I could practically hear Heller growl as Denton slowly walked away. I yanked against Heller's grip, only to be pinned to the lockers in a blink of an eye. "What the fuck," he said with a pause between each word, like he had to take a breather to not explode.

"Get off me!"

"Why so you can run to that pretty boy?!"

"Yes!"

He scoffed, and laughed humorlessly. "You're just like all the rest aren't you? Just a fucking whore who chases dick," he mocked, backing away slowly.

Hurt shocked me into disbelief before tears welled in my eyes. "You know what?! Screw you! You can only think with your muscles because you don't have a brain to even utilize! You know who I think you are? A little spoiled brat with daddy issues. Go away. No one needs you here. I don't need you here," I spat venomously.

His jaw clenched and his eyes flared, but he stalked closer to me until his face was an inch from mine and whispered just as venomously, "I don't even know why I wasted time on such a useless bitch. Better go run after your latest boy toy, or he might find someone better with bigger tits."

Tears of anger streamed down my face as I slapped him. His face moved maybe a quarter inch, but it was encouraging.

I stormed away to the parking lot, my sons becoming heavier with each step. Reaching my car, I sped home and slept off the terrible day.

---

My eyes were puffy, my nose was swollen, I wore a hoodie and sweatpants, and I didn't brush my hair as I walked into school the next day. I dreaded the class Heller and I shared all day. Then it rolled around and I walked painfully slow to class. Bless his heart, Dylan was talking and acting like everything was normal, trying to break me out of my funk. It didn't work though.

I waited in agony as the bell rang, paranoid that Heller would walk in any minute, but he never did. He didn't walk in the second day, either. Or the third, fourth, or fifth day. My whole weekend was spent absentmindedly texting Denton and worrying about (and hating) Heller. The next week, it was like normal. My friends and I laughed, Dylan was flirting with girls, and I read and studied constantly. Then, just like he did when we first met, Heller came strolling in my life and wrecking all my stability. Except this time he was drunk.

"See, the hypothalam-"

In came a giggling Heller, slamming the door open and stumbling as he walked to his desk. Everyone stared at him as he sat down, chuckled, pressed a finger to his lips, and shushed the class, laughing to himself. My teacher, knowing nothing good would come of sending a drunk violent man to the principal, continued class, but was interrupted from his shouting.

"HEY! MS. WHATEVER! CAN I MOVE, 'CAUSE, " he hiccuped, "THIS GIRL IS A WHORE AND I HATE HER!" he screamed, pointing at me. Everyone began whispering.

"Uh, I'll think about it." She was desperate to ignore him, and so was I.

"NO I NEED HER GONE NOW! I mean me gone. NO, HER GONE!"

I was saved by the bell and ran out of class to the library, but his antics followed me.

He laughed and shushed a busty redhead as he held her hand and led her to behind a bookshelf. Unfortunately, I had a perfect view. They made out for at least fifteen minutes, until she started grabbing his nether regions through his pants. He smirked at her.

"You wanna go somewhere?"

She nodded and giggled.

He began to lead her out, but I, having enough, stopped them.

"Don't you know he's drunk?!" I whisper-yelled at the girl.

"So?" she replied annoyed.

"So he doesn't care about you!"

"I don't care about you either," Heller interjected. That hurt. He smirked at me and the couple giggled and hurried off outside. I stood there, flabbergasted, then tried to get back into my book, but it was always quieter than my thoughts.

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