Hello people. I'm sure you're wondering(maybe) 'why would someone update three chapters after not doing anything for at lest a week?' Okay maybe no ones thinking that but nevertheless, I've got an answer! The reason being that today is a very special day. Today is my girlfriends birthday and this is one of her presents from me.
I love you, sweetheart! I hope you're having a great day.
Okay, continue reading. =)
“You can’t sleep here, Kid.” A woman in blue says, waking me up by prodding me painfully in the side. I sit up on the bench, fists clenched and ready to swing.
“Why not? It’s a public park. Made for the public. And unless something has changed, I’m the public.”
“You’ve already answered your own question. It’s a public park. Not a public sleeping grounds. Where are your parents anyway, Kid. Aren’t they worried about you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Doubtful.” I mutter, figuring she couldn’t hear me as I stand and dust myself off.
“Hey!” She calls, stopping me from leaving. I turn to face her. “If there’s anything you need to say about your home life…cops do listen.” The look in her eyes told me she was speaking from a personal place. Her offer was tempting, turning my dad in, but I knew better.
“Nah. I’m fine. Things where just a little tense last night.” I shrug. “Thanks anyway.” I walk away with my lie. I hadn’t gone home. I hadn’t been home for the past few days and I knew soon enough I’d have to go. It being almost Thursday and I haven’t even looked at the brick building that held so many memories. Or school for that matter. I had promised Amber I’d see her Tuesday after we returned from the weekend plus a day but that turned out to be a lie. She probably didn’t even notice you where gone. A voice hisses. I agree with it on this one. I sigh and walk along the sidewalk, watching the sun start to rise. Maybe I should go to school today. See how things are. Give Chris a punching bag. See if Violets still hanging out with them. See if anythings changed. Doubtful. But I need something to do. Sitting in the park all day was getting old. At lest the gym has showers.
You’d think if someone spent the entire first period in the gym locker room someone would notice. Especially if that person didn’t have gym. Apparently, that’s not the case, as I’m walking into second block, clean and feeling a bit better. If only they had a washing machine or a change of clothes here.
“Good morning class.” Our teacher says, standing at the front of the room. Already I can feel my eyes start to droop. “Today we will be studying….” Her monotone voice makes it impossible for me to stay awake. I fight it, but my exhaustion wins, my head dropping to my desk and I take a quick-or long-nap.
“…Rude and disrespectful. If you’re so tired don’t stay up as late.” The smack of a ruler on my desk is what brings me back into yet another one of Mrs. Taylors speeches about being respectful to others. Apparently sleeping is far from respectful as she goes around, smacking the ruler on any students desk who even appears to be tired, continuing her lecture. Rolling my eyes, I tune her out and focus on the tick-tock of the clock hanging above the door. Five minutes. Only five minutes left.
“Mr. Sullivan. Since you’re so tired, I assume you got your homework done last night. Why haven’t you turned it in?” She demands, hands on her hips.
“Because I didn’t do it...” I say, clearly annoyed she couldn’t figure that one out.
“And why not?”
“Because I wasn’t in school yesterday.” Chuckles echo through the classroom. I’m screwed.
“Then from the weekend.” She demands, her face starting to turn red with anger.
“Didn’t do that either.”
“Why on Earth are you sleeping in my class then.” She demands.
“Because I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well the past few days.”
“Are you sick?” She’s always shown some compassion for her students. Even in anger.
“Then why the hell not?”
“I was sleeping on a park bench.” I say calmly. The mood in the room shifts from anger and amusement to worry. Stress. I hate it. Her face becalms slightly calmer and extremely confused.
“I’m not comfortable answering that.” I tell her, trying to be respectful for once, not wanting to dig myself a bigger hole. Mrs. Taylor opens her mouth to speak when the bell goes off. I try to escape but she catches me. Sighing I turn to her, the room now emptied of the snickering students.
“What?” I demand. “I’m gonna be late to class.” She ignores my attuide.
“Explain to me where you’ve been the past few days.” She crosses her arms.
“Ran away from home.” I state plainly.
“Why would you do that?”
“That’s something I’m not too comfortable sharing.” I say, respectfully. Wow, my moods where odd today. She shifts her weight onto her other foot, clearly annoyed.
“I can always call your-“
“No! I just ran off to a party over the weekend and got a little carried away. I didn’t want to call home or anything. “ I lie, unsure if she’d buy it. I’m not the partying type.
Either she was too annoyed with me to continue or she bought it because the next thing I know, I’m walking to third period.
95 minutes later, I’m sitting in my normal chair at lunch surrounded by my normal friends, aka no one. Sighing, I put my head down and continue the nap that was interrupted during second block. I start to dose when I hear Chris’ voice. It was like I was trained in finding it because it stuck out so well from the noise of the lunchroom.
“Look who’s finally back.” It was a comment made to his friends, not to me as he was a few tables back. My head picks up and I glace back in time enough to see Amber talking to him. Seeing her made my heart pick up slightly. Cursing under my breath, I turn back and rest my chin on my arms on top of the dingy yellow table. The group of the three bullies and the confused girl walk past my table and oddly enough I only get a glare from their leader. Drake, however, gives me a smack on the back of my head as a welcome back gift. That’s not what bothers me though. What urkes me is seeing Chris press his poison lips to Ambers sweet, pink ones.
A twinge of some mix of emotion goes off and I put my head back down, my fists clenching. She wasn’t my anything. Just a girl who saved me and I shot. It was an odd, nonexistence relationship and I had to get that into my head. I wouldn’t let the fact another misguided chick was making out with the boy who bullied me bother me. It’s her mistake. Has nothing to do with me.
I survive fourth block and head home, fists clenched as I walk by The Crowd.
“Hey Cutter!” Drake yells, bring back a long lost nickname. I thought they had at least grown past that. My eyes flick up to see Chris and Amber in a make out session, sitting on the bench. I’m disgusted and am about to look away when she looks up. I send a glare as we lock eyes before looking away, back at the concrete ground. I feel a rock hit the back of my head but ignore it. A few more follow. I pretend they don’t exist as I walk home, feeling like I was walking through a storm of bullets. Although I wasn’t sure what was worse. The rocks or the insults.
I’m left alone eventually and I walk in silence, staring at the ground. I’m shocked when I wind up at my house. My real house, not just the bench in the park. The building looks warm and welcoming to most from the outside but inside is where the cold, harsh memories lay. Maybe that’s why I’m stunned to find my feet carrying me inward.
“Look what ungrateful brat is finally back.” I hear the snarl coming from the kitchen as I close the door behind me. So much for sneaking in. My father strolls from where he was to in front of me, arms crossed. I can tell somethings off about him. Some-He’s sober! That must be it. The look of him not drunk off his ass is an odd one. It throws me off. Which is why his tightly packed fist connects with my face. I catch myself on the wall and try to straighten up when he strikes again. And again. And again. When I finally get a second to breath, he walks behind me and kicks the back of my knee, sending me to the ground. A rough kick to the ribs and I see stars.
“You bastard. Think you can just waltz in here after a few days and act like nothing happened. You could have gotten both of us in trouble.” Another kick, this one harder. “You could have but my ass in jail. Get up!” He orders. My entire body shaking and my vision not quite right, I force myself up and try to stand right. Try to fight back. I wanted to more then I though. There was no luck though. He starts pumbling me, pushing me into the kitchen as he does it. Each hit hurts. He’s strong when sober.
“Well let me tell you. If I get put in jail, the first thing I’ll do is send you’re ungrateful ass to hell before I go to serve my sentence.” With no warning, he shoves me. My back hits a corner, causing me to bite me cheek hard so I don’t cry out as I fall to the ground. I hear his unmistakable throaty chuckle. He’s enjoying this. “Up!” He orders harshly. I try but I was not fast enough as he grabs my elbow and pulls me up. I stumble backwards onto the hot stove. He punches me at the wrong time so my forearm is on the hot plate too long. It felt like it was on fire as I pulled it away. A cry escapes my lips and a laugh echoes from his. He lands quite a few more punches to me on our way out the kitchen. His fists connects so hard with my gut, I fall. He kicks me and I slide out of the room, hitting the wall. He grips my elbow and throws me down the hall, sending me crashing into my mother’s old china cabinet. Glass shatters everywhere, most of it landing embedded in my skin. A loud grunt of pain comes from me but I don’t dare move, afraid to make it worse. His laugh echos through the house until he sees what damage is done.
“You clumsy piece of shit. On second thought, I may just send you to hell now. Worthless faggot.” He growls, coming towards me. I block my face with my arms, reading myself for it when something bings. As if his son wasn’t bloody, broken, and half dead in front of him, my dad casually checks his cell phone. He curses, sends one last insult towards me that I didn’t catch, and leaves. I lay there, loosing blood and trying not to pass out in the pile of glass, knowing that wouldn’t make a good bed. The sound of a car passes the house and that’s my queue that it’s safe to move. So I do. I shuffle to the nearest bathroom and start checking out the damages, tugging glass out of my skin as I do. I sigh as I look around, seeing nothing good. Most of my body covered in cuts and forming bruises. The worst being one on my leg, arm, and forehead. I couldn’t do this on my own. I can’t see my back, much less reach it, where there are sure to be more, probably worse, cuts then what I could see. I can’t do this alone but I have no one to go to. Not like theres a line of friends for me to call. The hospital was a no.
I walk out of the bathroom as I think over my options. I look over the wreckage of my mother’s china, emotions picking at me. Just about everything was smashed. I start to look away when something catches my eye. It’s this that tells me where I should go for help. Although I can’t say I like it.
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