After his parents' sudden death, Chester Covington leaves everything behind and moves in with his aunt.
But nobody knows what is going on behind the facadé of a traumatized boy who has watched his parents die that he puts up ever single day of his...
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Do you know this horrible feeling of being watched? This nagging feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you turn around now, you will see someone whose eyes are fixed on you, with a weird grin plastered on their face?
Yeah, well. The only difference right now is, that I know I'm being watched. I'm standing in front of the poeple that I'd share the rest of my high school life with. The people that know each other since childhood days, that would never come to know of why I transferred schools or why I had moved across the state.
"I'm Chester Covington. 16 years. I just moved here from Seattle." Those three simple sentences are what I call my introduction. It says enough about the basic questions that people are asking themselves right now, but it doesn't reveal too much of my life, so that poeple would know who I am. Or what I've been through.
"Please sit down in the back row, next to the window, Chester," the teacher instructs before she turns to the chalkboard and writes down some things.
Tightening the hold on the stripes of my backpack, I weave my way through the desks and eventually sit down on a chair next to the window. Whereas some students keep an eye on me, some of them have already lost interest in the new guy.
I just shrug, pull out my notebook and a pen, and scribble down whatever the teacher is trying to teach us about biology.
Throughout the lesson I felt a pair of eyes burning holes in the side of my head, but I couldn't muster the courage to look up. So, I just ignored it the best I could and took notes, hissing slightly here and then when the pain in my shoulder erupted once again.
My shoulder had always been a problem for me, especially because he somehow always aimed for it whenever he was drunk. It was like a game to him. A game of cat and mouse. I was the mouse and he was the cat, craving to hurt me in every way possible. Wanting to break every bone in my body. Which was what he did.
He had nearly broken every single bone in my body, even those that I wasn't even aware of. At least that what I felt like after every time he had pushed me into the basement, unbuckled his belt and whipped me until the blood had covered half of the concrete floor. My blood.
"Mr.Covington." a voice breaks me out of my daze. My head snaps to the source of the voice and I am met with an impatiently waiting woman, tapping her heel on the floor, continuously. I quickly shove my stuff into my backpack and shuffle out of the empty room.
When I stand in the hallway, I see her close the door behind her and walk down the hallway, probably to the teacher's room. I sigh slightly before I make my way to my locker, which I had already visited this morning, shortly after I was handed the folder by the secretary. My locker number is 177.
