Out Of Control

I Love Andy But Brendon Can Go Die In A Ditch

My neck furiously jerked faster than two horny rabbits as I stood nervously outside the entrance of the bleak school building.

Swarms of students passed me without a care, rushing to get to their lesson before the bell rang signalling their imminent doom. It had been a week since my attempt, my mother had let me have a week off school due to my insistent begging but had demanded I went back before I "fully became a hermit" and believe me I was willing to go full hermit if it meant I didn't have to return to hell but much to my dismay she insisted.

I yelled multiple slurs at multiple people and shrink further into my oversized sweater, the very same sweater my endearingly small friend had gifted me for Christmas. I fiddled with the hem as I finally pushed through the large doors into the entrance hall.

I faintly heard the word "spastic" along with "faggot" come from somewhere in the room, I scrunched up my face repeatedly as I glanced over to the corner where a group of girls stood staring at me in a very inconspicuous manner, they stopped however when I turned to face them. Their seemingly identical appearances made it hard to tell them apart but I made a mental note to try and avoid them.

I approached the staircase when my view was blocked by two bricks. Sorry not bricks, Andy and Brendon but there's hardly any difference.

"Oh look it's the faggot." Sneered the taller of the two.

"Heard he tried to kill himself the other day."

My heart all but stopped at those words, my brain frozen trying to figure out how they could possibly know about that. My palms grew sweaty and my neck felt like it was going to snap off with the ferocity of which it was ticcing.

I was pulled out of my daze when the shrill sound of the late bell echoed around the now deserted corridor.

"Guess there's no one to hear you now." Brendon spat at me.

I tried to run but was immediately pulled back by one of the two grabbing onto the back of my backpack which was soon discarded as I was thrown into some random persons locker.

I slumped to the floor, thoroughly winded.

The first of many blows was landed to my stomach by none other than Brendon Urie's foot, the force of the blow made me want to throw up and caused my eyes to water.

I knew trying to fight back would result in nothing more than a severe beating, that and there was no way someone such as myself could effectively overpower two experienced assholes.

The next kick was aimed at my face, landing square at my nose. The pain immediately blossomed over my face making me wonder if my nose had broken, the warm blood gushed over my open mouth making me choke. I covered my already battered face with my arms and curled up in a ball, the brunt of the abuse now being aimed at my back and sides.

For a solid ten minutes I felt nothing but pain as I tried to zone out. My torso ached with the constant abuse as I tried desperately to keep my fave covered, blood still pouring profusely out of my nose and onto both myself and the already dirty floor.

Eventually Andy and Brendon got bored with my their torture and the kicking ceased.

At some point in the whole ordeal the sleeves on my sweater had rolled up slightly, "oh look, the fag does cut himself. Do it deeper next time." Taunted Andy as he and Brendon slinked off somewhere.

I lay on the floor for a good five minutes further as I tried to regain a steady breathing pattern and for the pain left from my beating to calm for just a moment.

I eventually pulled myself into a sitting position, realising my nose had now fortunately stopped bleeding, I tried to concentrate my blurry vision. I looked down at myself wondering how I would get the blood and dirt stains out of my sweater.