Broken Walls

C. 6

I smoothed the paper flat against the wall. I had a bandage wrapped hip and thigh, and the spiral notebook sheet told the world about my 'friendly' encounter with another sharp pang of depression. My eyes skimmed over the paper covered bit of the wall, mindlessly reading the endless dates, and numbers, scanning over the bright red shaped lines, pausing at a group of 46 wide ones. That was when Kyle left.

Sighing, I grabbed my Panic! poster, unrolled it, and taped it back up to the wall. I don't even really listen to p!atd anymore, the only reason I still have the poster is that I'm to lazy to get a new one.

And I'm broke.

I jumped hearing the front door slam open. "JAMIE!" Great. She's home. "Coming!" I quickly pulled on a black hoodie over my Of Mice & Men shirt and ran down the stairs to see Cassie unloading some grease covered wrappers out of a white paper bag. "Hey lil' man, I wasn't sure what you wanted so I kind of got some random shit." "What is it?" It smells so good- no no, stop you can't enjoy this. "A milkshake, and a hamburger and I also got three crunchy tacos and a mango tea. I get whatever you don't eat." I thanked Cassie and took the burger, with the idea that it would be less painful coming back up.

Cassie chewed the bite she'd taken and waved around a taco in a small circle, announcing that she had something to say. Quickly swallowing and taking a small sip of tea, she asked the question, "What happened on the phone?" Great.

"I was getting out of bed when you called and I tripped over the cover, the phone slipped out of my hand. Sorry 'bout that." I shot Cassie a smile and took a disgusting bite of the 'burger', proud of the quickly thought up lie. I guess Mr. Jameson was wrong then.

I gulped down my milkshake, quickly realizing the cold, sugary liquid only made the effort of keeping the fake meat and over seasoned bread down worse."Oh ok, so nothing's wrong?" She asked and I quickly shook my head, feeling my stomach churn. "Nope, s'fine. Um, I'll be right back." And with that I ran to the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach for the second time that night.

-

I didn't sleep last night. At all.

So when I tiredly forced my worn out self down the halls, I wasn't prepared to be slammed into the trash cans and fall to the floor, surrounded by soggy wrappers and empty fast food cups by one of my physical bullies.

"Oh no! I'm soo sorry. Here, let me help you up!" I nearly rolled my eyes at the terrible effort at sarcasm but held back as that wouldn't help the situation. The guy roughly gripped my upper arm, close to my elbow and pulled me up half way.

He stepped aside slightly, and threw his arm back, pulling me with it as he kneed my conveniently unprotected stomach and painfully shoved me back against the hard metal cans.

I quickly curled into a little ball, trying to block out most of the searing pain. "Worthless scum, with the trash were you belong." The buzz cut haired guy muttered, and kicked me roughly in leg as he couldn't reach anything else in my position. That was sure to bruise.

-

I tore my shirt over my head, whining at the sight. No lunch today, that's for sure. And the few places he did get me were very noticeable and already forming into shades of purple and blue.

No blood though, that's good. In some cases.

I took a quick glance at my backpack, which was perched on the edge of the sink, thinking of the little tool that sat on the bottom, but shook my head and pulled my shirt and dark blue hoodie back over my head. After fixing my hair a bit, I grabbed the bag and slung it over my shoulder, wincing as the heavy books slammed into my back.

Walking down the long hallway once again, I found myself outside my first class, writing. Seeing as I wasn't late, pretty early actually, I stepped through the open doorway, noticing that only five or six students were already here and made my way towards my desk in the back corner.

From there I kind of just tuned out the awkward small talk from the surrounding teenagers and just looked out one of the windows absentmindedly before I was woken from my daze. By now the classroom was full, and eyes fell on Ms. Whiter as she entered the classroom and the tall blond boy that followed.

"Hello class, as I'm sure you've all heard, we have a new student to welcome today! Go ahead, introduce yourself." Our teacher piped excitedly, waving a hand towards the far to brightly dressed boy, who smiled and made a small wave toward us.

"Hi, names Caleb. Where do I sit?"

-

This took over a week to write.

I still don't like how it came out.

Sometimes I feel like the person that follows around the elephants at the zoo, with the bucket and giant shovel.

This story is a slow, weird thing that smells like shit and future me comes back and cleans up after it when I'm editin- where the fuck am I going with this?

Sorry for the overly long wait, I'm not going to list off overused excuses about why I just now brushed the dust of this story, but I'll just say I was busy and leave it at that.

I'll see you guys in the next 26 years when I update, and you've all given up on this, and your all using your new iPhone 67, and every story is personally read aloud by Morgan Freeman's son, Jesus Freeman.

Ok, I'm gonna go before I say more idiotic stuff that I'll cringe about then I come back and clean up after the elephan- stop with this metaphor.

Vote? Comment? Danke :)

Byyyyye!