Stuck in Yesterday

Chapter Sixteen

TW: Bullying, description of violence and injuries. There will be other warnings within the text before and after scenes that contain these trigger warnings for those who choose to read the chapter but don't want to read said scenes. If there are any trigger warnings that I missed, and this applies to any past or future chapters as well, please feel free to let me know and the chapter will be updated as soon as possible. Also, apologies for the long wait. I didn't intend to take this long for this chapter. Anyways, stay safe and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

  Virgil's P.O.V

  On his way to the bus that afternoon, Virgil wasn't sure what to feel. He was anxious because Roman would possibly be on the bus, and with his reaction towards his entrance during Spanish he was sure jolly ol' Princey wouldn't be too happy to see him. On the other hand, though, he felt a faint jolt of excitement to see Patton and Logan. Patton, although a bit overbearing at times, was one of the few angels in the nightmare he called school who was kind enough to make a genuine effort to know and befriend him so it was natural in his eyes to be happy to see the bubbly boy. Logan was a different story. Seemingly cold, calculated, and stiff, Virgil wasn't keen on forming a bond with the boy. But when they were assigned to work together and interact, he felt as though maybe, just maybe, a bond had been formed between them. Of course, Virgil knew, he could've been making it all up in his head. There was always that possibility. But at the moment, that didn't seem to register in his mind. The mere thought of having a genuine connection with these boys gave him a glimpse of hope that maybe this new school wasn't so bad.

  Virgil never made it on that bus. Just as he was passing the boys bathroom, he felt himself being violently yanked backwards by his shirt collar and thrown to the floor. For a moment the sudden action caught the young emo by surprise, but within seconds that changed to a sense of deja vu then a cold slap of reality. He knew exactly why this was happening and who it was that was doing it, not that it took long to make themselves known. "We warned you, Virgil," an angry hushed voice growled above him.

  (Trigger warning start) He got no time to react before a flurry of fists and feet connected with various parts of his body. He cried out, but in the rush created by the end of the day's classes he knew he wouldn't be heard. The pain was blinding and relentless, rendering Virgil helpless and unprotected from the rage of his attackers. All he could even think to do was curl in on himself and hope that they would soon stop.

...

  "Ouch!" Virgil hissed, instinctually retracting the makeup sponge from his battered face.

  He wasn't sure for how long they had beat him up, but he knew that it had felt like an eternity. Before the three boys left him to lay bruised and bleeding on the bathroom floor, the shortest of the bunch reminded him, "you did this to yourself. If you had just left them alone, this wouldn't have happened. And if you continue to bother them, this will keep happening."

  It was only after the loud BANG of the bathroom door had Virgil dared to stand and begin to examine and erase to the best of his abilities the injuries that had been inflicted on him. Trying his best to ignore the sting, he finished applying his pale foundation to cover the large blue and green splotches that littered his skin and the remnants of blood that had been hastily cleaned away prior with a dampened paper towel. Not too shabby, me, the emo mused silently as he examined his reflection, the only thing to worry about now is if someone notices the swelling. But I'm sure I can come up with some sort of convincing excuse. Maybe I could convince them it's due to lack of sleep? (Trigger warning end)

  He fished through his bag for his phone, eventually finding it squished between his pencil case and the bottom of his bag, and turned it on. Upon looking at his lock screen, a sense of dread welled up inside of him once again. There were multiple texts and missed calls from his mother. How long have I been here?!

  He immediately began a new call, anxiously throwing his bag over his shoulder and bolting out the door. It didn't take long for her to pick up. "Virgil! Where are you? Are you still on the bus? You're usually home by now. Are you okay? Is everything alright?"

  The onslaught of questions left no room for him to respond until his mother finally paused, waiting for his explanation. Of course everything wasn't alright, Virgil acknowledged, but there was no way that he'd tell her that. Taking a deep breath he fibbed in the calmest voice that he could muster, "well... I accidentally missed the bus. I was having a conversation with one of my teachers after class about the homework and classes I missed and lost track of time. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Could you maybe pick me up?"

  The darkly dressed teen heard a sigh come  from the receiver, from relief or annoyance he wasn't entirely sure. "It's ok Virgie," she assured him, "I'll come get you now. But try not to make this a habit, okay? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

  "Yes mom. Sorry mom," was his response before the call ended.

  Even though the call was over and done with, and his mother didn't seem to be mad at him, he couldn't shake the icy dread that gripped tightly onto his stomach. Now outside of the building, he found a spot on the sidewalk to perch until his mom arrived. Since he wasn't sure how long that would be, he decided to take the silence as an opportunity to do some drawing. Taking out his sketchbook, Virgil considered the infinite amount of things he could attempt to draw. But he could only think of things that he had no interest in drawing or had no motivation to follow through with. But then a thought came to him, and he began to furiously scribble his idea unto the page. Before he could add the finishing touches to his sketch, the emo heard the distant sound of a car engine which broke him from his creative trance.

  His mother's black SUV slowly came to a stop in front of him. Virgil haphazardly shoved his sketchbook into his bag and got into the car. He stole a glance at his mom as he squished his stuff in the remaining leg space of the passenger seat and buckled in. She was studying him with a blank stare, making it hard for him to gauge her mood. He continued to face forward, unmoving, waiting for her to start driving and hoping desperately that she wouldn't push any further.

  To his relief, Virgil's mother made no remarks about him missing the bus as she began to pull out of the school parking lot. The ride back was silent, and so was their entrance into the house. Virgil's step-father looked up from a puzzle he was piecing together at the kitchen table and voiced a greeting, but Virgil only stuck around long enough to give a rushed reply as he sped away to the comfort of his room. Once he had carefully closed the door behind him and wiped off all of his make-up, the angsty teen flopped onto his bed, physically and mentally drained from the day's events. As he felt his eyelids drag down, he couldn't get away from the feeling that he had so desperately tried to push away with the hope given by his "fresh start"; the thought that plagued him since his first day at Bright High, maybe this place isn't so different.