"You're mine."
"W-what?!"
"You heard me."
The male leaned in ever so closely to Noah's ear and said from the bottom of his throat in a husky whisper,
"You. Are. Mine."
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Friends and Family.
Two things that Noah An...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
^^ May Anderson
[ . . . ]
This was the part Noah dreaded the most.
Whispers were passed around in the hallway from person to person, group to group. It was like a never-ending chain. As Noah limped through the hallway, people snickered and glanced his way, then turned and whispered to their friends.
"Go give a call and cry to your mummy!" A girl in his year yelled after him, making him sigh in despair and make his way to the bathroom.
"Next time, they should just shove him into the pond with the fishes."
Arriving at the bathroom, Noah swung the door open with a grunt and his left hand immediately flew up to his right shoulder as a reflex to support the aching body part.
"God damn every fucked up person in this fucked up place..." Noah mumbled to himself as he made his way to the sink.
He peered up at the mirror through his swollen eye and sighed.
"How am I gonna explain this one...can't use the ran into a pole excuse, used that lots of times...ran into a wall...? Ughh.." Noah groaned and dropped his backpack on the ground and touched his busted lips.
"I'll just wear my hoodie at home.."
Noah ran the tap and splashed some water onto his face but flinched instantly when it touched his eye.
RINGGGGGGG!!!
The noise that informed students to make there way to class sounded through the heavy bathroom door.
Noah's ears perked up and he grabbed his bag, dashing out the door and ignoring the pain in his bruised muscles.
"Shit shit shit, I already missed first lesson I can't miss the second..." he told himself and ran to his lockers.
Thankfully, everyone was already at their classes, so the hallways were empty, leaving him at a peaceful silence. Arriving at his lockers, his eyes scanned over the surface with words engraved into the metal, some old and some new.
'Son-of-a-slut'
'Fucking die'
'Fag'
'Bastard'
'Bitch'
'Shithead'
He removed his eyes away from the words, ignoring the bubbling anger and sadness, and slowly entered his pin.
At last, he took his needed books out and made his way to his class with a drained sigh.
