The Loner and the Prep (bxb)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Follower

Chapter Twenty-Three

Watson P.O.V

Usually, when I arrived at school with a black eye, no one would pay me a lick of attention about it. They'd ignore it like they ignored me in general. Sure, some would glance at the ugly purple-tinted bruise that covered a good portion of my left eye, but nobody asked about it. They didn't care enough, but that was to be expected.

I didn't like the glances. It wasn't the first time that I've come to school with a visible bruise. Occasionally I was able to hide them whether it was with long sleeves or makeup, which my father did not like at all. He'd make homophobic comments about how wearing makeup wasn't for guys. And that's putting the words he's said about it lightly. The bruise on my eye wasn't coverable. The concealer I had didn't remotely want to work on the bruise that covered my eye.

Most of the teachers didn't care either, pushing it off as a potential sports injury or some friendly rough-housing I probably got myself into. Perhaps in another life, I would be a jock that got black eyes for roughly playing with friends, but that wasn't this life. The only teacher that would care would have to be Mrs. Nadia, but even then, she'd think it was a bullying thing instead of an abuse thing.

So many times I've wanted to just tell Mrs. Nadia, the only teacher I remotely trust, about my home situation, but the fear of what could happen appears in my mind. Perhaps the school wouldn't care, and no report would be made. If someone did come to the house, what would happen if they didn't see any reason to remove me from my father's care? What would my dad do to me if he found out I reported him to the school for child abuse? That was the thing that held me back the most. I would get put into a foster situation, if they found my dad guilty, but would the foster place treat me fairly? I wasn't the most likable person. It didn't help that I was gay, which some people despise. Imagine trading one hell for another.

Fear will always hold me back, I hate it, but it will, and does.

Considering how I was used to being ignored, when I heard a loud gasp to my left, I actually jumped. My eyes glanced over towards the sudden noise, and there stood Evelyn, looking at me with shock and sadness. I turn away quickly, not wanting her to continue to see the bruise. I don't know why I cared whether or not she saw the ugly mark on my face, but I suddenly did.

"Oh my god, where did you get a bruise like that?" Evelyn asked quickly, moving closer to me to attempt to get another look. "When did that happen? You didn't have it yesterday," She yanked my hand off my face to see the bruise. It would have been pretty if it wasn't a bruise on my face. It almost looked like watercolors, blue, black, and purple, all mixing together to make my bruise the pigment that it was. I was lucky that it had done its swelling while I was unconscious.

I backed away from Evelyn. Although I was appreciative of her concern, she was drawing more attention than necessary. Multiple different sets of eyes turned to look at Evelyn, which also meant that they looked at me in the process. Unlike me, Evelyn didn't seem to notice the attention she was drawing, and if she did, she was a champion at ignoring it. She looked at me, confused, a hint of hurt in her eyes. Within seconds, the hurt that once extreme apparent in her eyes disappeared. She returned to her happier, bouncy self, confusing the heck out of me. "You should go to the nurse about it," She said sincerely, walking down the hallway, away from me. "See you later!" She said before disappearing from my line of sight, merging with the crowd. I almost missed her presence.

I continued walking down the hallway to my locker, touched that Evelyn had even noticed the bruise. Maybe she wasn't like everyone else in this school to the point that she generally cared about me, if even slightly. She cared enough to ask about my bruise, and she's defended me from bullying before. I could see us being friends in the future, especially if she proved time and time again that she wasn't like the other kids in the school. If I were straight, she'd be the type of girl I'd like. I would say that's why I liked her brother, but it really wasn't the case. There was no logic behind liking Elijah.

Perhaps I would take her advice about the nurse. At most, she'd give me an ice pack, which would help with the slight inflammation that was taking place. Reduce swelling and all that fun stuff. As often as I went to school physically harmed, I didn't go to the nurse very often about it. I don't count that one time Elijah took me to the nurse. It wasn't me that willingly went. I was thankful for him taking the time out of his day to get me seen by a 'nurse.'

Seeing the time and determining that I'd have enough time to go to the nurse and get to class before the bell rang, I turn down that hallway, heading towards the nurse's office. This would probably be one of the few times that I'd go willingly. The bruise wasn't exactly painful at the moment, but I've had enough black eyes without relief. I deserved to get a small pack of ice that would melt within the hour. I think I've earned it at this point.

Walking to the office wasn't hard, just nerve-racking. I didn't go down this hallway very often, and because of that, I was seeing people I didn't see very often.

If only I had noticed the person following behind me as I walked down the thinning hallway.