You're Supposed to Hate Me

Chapter 13

Travis

I don't know what's been happening to me lately. Usually I pass all my tests, but lately things haven't been good.

Maybe it's because of him. Maybe it's because I'm still wondering what the fuck happened that night and why the fuck Sal keeps looking over at me with every single chance he gets.

Like he is right now. I could feel his eye boring into the back of my head, and it's making me lose my concentration and thoughts.

I grit my teeth as I turn to look back at him, and of course, he was already looking down at his paper like he wasn't just staring a hole into my head like the freak he is.

"Phelps! How many times do I have to remind you, eyes on your own paper!" Mrs. Packerton shakes her head, pushing her glasses up her nose.

I turn around, looking down at my paper. Of course I'm the one who gets yelled at instead of perfect little Sal fucking Fisher.

I don't even know why I'm so pissed off. Usually I'm not this mad at Sal. But the way he keeps looking at me makes me feel all hot and bothered.

It makes me want to...

No. No, it doesn't. It doesn't make me want to do that. Why the hell did I suddenly think of that. What is wrong with me?

I stare at my paper, trying to focus again, but everything that I know about algebra was suddenly gone from my head. It probably seeped out of the hole that Sal made with his staring.

I bet if I turned around and looked at the ground some of my brain is just hanging out on the floor because Sal put a giant hole in my head.

But of course, I don't turn around and check.

Instead, I do the stupidest thing that I could possibly do, something that I will most definitely regret in a few hours.

I guess. I guess on the rest of the questions, stand up, and hand it in.

~~~

I absolutely hate Sal Fisher for staring a hole into my head, I hate him so fucking much.

But I can't blame him. I know I can't blame him. Even though he was the one who was staring at me, it was my fault for getting distracted by his stupid bright blue eye and bright blue hair and his prosthetic and–

"Are you fucking deaf?! Or are you just choosing to mute me out?!!" He shouts at me, the vein in his neck visible as he grits his teeth.

I open my mouth to respond, which I also instantly regret as he punches me in the face, blood filling my mouth.

I knew I'd get beat more if I accidentally got blood on the floor, so I did the one thing that I'm sadly way too used to doing. I swallow the blood.

He punches me again, in my eye, like he always does. It's like he wants me to just walk around with a black eye that just never goes away.

People are so used to me with a black eye that nobody even asks about it anymore. They don't ask how I got it, they just act like it's a normal thing for me to have. A fucking black eye.

Or maybe, maybe they know something is going on but they just act like they don't notice it, thinking that someone else will notice it and mention it. But in reality, no one asks if I'm okay, no one asks if I'm safe.

No one. No one except for Lisa Johnson. She was the only one who asked if I was okay in years. The last time I was asked if I was okay, or if I was safe was when my mom died. 

I'm brought back to reality when he grabs me by the chin, his eyes like two fires, two huge fires that could burn down a whole forest. "Get the fuck out. Don't come back for the night. Find somewhere else to stay, or sleep on the streets, I don't care."

He shoves my head away, storming away leaving me on the floor, blood trickling down my chin.

This is probably the best thing he's ever done. Kicking me out.