The Loner and the Prep (bxb)

Chapter Fifteen

Bully

Chapter Fifteen

Watson P.O.V

I got very lucky. I know that it will probably come back later in a weird form of karma. I mean, how often does my father just decide to stay out?

I personally know that occasions like that are extremely rare. My father wasn't the kind of man who just stayed out with a girl he met during the night. Most of the time, he brought her home with him, just so it wasn't him that ended up getting kicked out.

I entered the house last night and it had been completely empty. At first, I had logically thought that my father was simply unconscious somewhere in the house. He wasn't and trust me, I looked EVERYWHERE. It was actually rather nice, not having my father around to harm me, or to simply cause me anxiety. He was really good at that.

I had sat my cello down inside my room. I didn't typically take my cello home. I was always afraid that my father would find it and destroy it, by accident or otherwise. So I usually opted to leave it in the music room. Mrs. Nania isn't going to be at school tomorrow which means the backroom will be locked and we're not allowed to leave out instruments out in the main area so on days like that I just take my cello home.

I had slept really well that night. I didn't get woken up by my father yelling or smashing something. I had slept all night, waking only to relieve my blatter. Most kids when given the chance, would have wrecked the house. I knew better. Instead of blaring loud music, trashing the house, or some other dumb thing, I simply read books with the mental relief that my father wasn't going to smash into my room with plans to harm me as he has done before. I didn't understand my father half of the time, why he does what he does. It doesn't make sense to me. Why anyone would want to harm their own offspring as my father does to me. I would never do that to a child, regardless of if it was mine or not. It's wrong and I wish my father understood that concept.

I woke without fresh bruises on my body, something that was nice as well. It allowed the bruises that were previously given to have time to heal before more pain came. I knew my father. He never left the house for more than two days, and two was the maximum. If he wasn't home when he was going to be home tomorrow at the least. I could practically sense the beating that I was going to face when he got back home but for now, that didn't matter to me. I would deal with it when it actually happened, and at this exact moment, it hasn't. If I could stretch it as I have done before, it won't happen for another day or so, if I'm careful.

Then again, how can anyone be one-hundred percent careful? Everyone manages to break the careful schedule. It wasn't like someone could be completely careful. I knew from experience that I would probably screw up for one little second. It sounds like something that I would do without meaning to.

I got dressed, dressing in the same clothes that I always seemed to wear. I decided on a hoodie and skinny jeans, the usual. I managed to make skinny jeans look like the normal bland jeans though, most jeans didn't fit me like they did the girls in the catalogs or magazines. On those girls, the jeans looked nice, looked perfect on them. Showing their curves off. It flattered them, most of my jeans didn't flatter me back. Maybe it's because I don't have the nice curves like those girls did . . . My hoodie looked nice though.

I walked to school like I always did, this time I didn't have to sneak out of the house like I have done before. It was nice to be able to simply walk out the front door like most teens my age did. It was so nice, I wish it was always like that but I knew better. It would never be that peaceful. Tomorrow my father would come back from wherever he stayed the night and return to ruin my life like he always does.

I knew that my dad would be better if I didn't drastically hate school. It would have been even, even better if my bullied didn't exist. We all remember Keith Johnson the guy who is known for destroying lockers and is the reason why my locker cover is destroyed beyond fixing? Yeah, my fist-crazy bully. I had semi-forgotten about Keith, with my father being my father, his abusive self, and me getting to spend more time doing something I love, music, and of course have gotten to talk to Elijah. With all that, I had completely forgotten that Elijah was the kind of person who didn't care if you were having a good or bad day, that he was the other devil in my life.

Walking down the hallway my head had been in the clouds. I had my cello in my hands, since I was about to be at my locker and because the shoulder straps start to hurt me after a while.

I hadn't seen Keith coming, nor did I anticipate him shoving me to the ground.

The hands pushed roughly against my back, sending me shockingly to the ground, everything in my left hand scattering around the floor, along with my case dropping onto the ground. I wasn't able to stop me from falling but I was luckily able to catch myself on my right arm, which had been the arm that was holding my cello.

I staring shocked at the ground my eyes open wide. I had been on my hands and knees.

Suddenly, someone's foot stomped onto my back. My entire body was pushed roughly against the ground, a gasp escaped my mouth. A sudden pain was coming from where the foot was pushing against my back.

The foot lifted up and before I was able to roll away from where the foot was it slammed back down, causing a small scream to come out of my mouth. I was surprised that no one was stopping this, considering that it was in the middle of the hallway, people walked around, or watched but no one helped me. I know that if they were in my position that they'd expect some help. My peers are seriously pitiful.

"Hey! Stop!" I heard someone yell before looking up to see who it was and it was . . .