Biology-A Phan Story

I slammed my locker shut, relieved that it was Friday. Unfortunately, the day was just beginning. Nine classes, and I was out of the hell hole for the week. I felt the familiar grip on the back of my shirt collar pull me back.

Yeah, you've heard this story before. The kid who didn't do anything wrong was bullied and beat up. I fall victim to this stupid cliche.

I was pulled around to look in the face of my enemy.

"Hey, faggot," he breathed in my face.

"Hi," I muttered back as I desperately tried to free myself from his grip and the torture that I saw coming.

But instead of throwing me a punch in the face or stomach, he grabbed me by my chestnut hair and slammed me into the row of lockers behind me. My bag, which was resting on my shoulder, fell to the side and emptied its contents, including my notebook. It had all of my thoughts and drawings in it.

I met eyes with him; him being the asshole who'd been terrorising me ever since i could remember, Derek, and watched how his gaze didn't leave my face. He didn't care about my notebook. For all he knew, it was just biology notes or contained last week's maths notes.

So, basically, I was waiting for what would happen next. I placed my foot subtly on my notebook and looked down below my foot for one second.

Bad move.

Derek pushed me down and my head hit against the floor and kicked me in the stomach. My vision started going white as I heard one of Derek's friends yell.

"Dude! Did you kill that fucker? We've gotta go before someone sees us here!"

The late bell to class rang and their footsteps echoed down the hallway. I sat up with my head held between my hands. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the pain. I was good at that.

When the throbbing in my head subsided a bit, I collected my belongings that were strewn across the hallway. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes and walked into first period biology; slowly, because a kick in the stomach isn't something that is easily forgotten.

"Mr. Howell," the teacher said upon my arrival, "Care to explain why you're so late to class?"

"I..um-"

"Have a seat. If you're late again, it's a detention."

I nodded and took my seat in the back of the class.

At that point I assumed that it wasn't obvious that I was fighting a war within myself.

"Turn to page 104 in your textbooks," instructed the teacher.

I did so, but instead of paying attention to her lecture on some shit I'd never need in my life, I opened up my notebook.

Let me explain to you. Anything that I think will be written down in this notebook if I'm holding something that I can write with.

"Help me," I write in my sloppy handwriting, "I want to die."

"Better put that away," my lab partner whispers. I look up. He's right. My teacher was glaring at me as she took steps towards me. I closed my notebook and put it under my open textbook.

When she turned away from me, I ripped out the page I was drawing on and placed it on top of my textbook so that I wouldn't get caught.

After a gruelling lecture, class was finally over. The bell rang and I slammed my textbook shut and grabbed my bag. If I was quick enough, I could get to next period without being injured.

Eight more classes.

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Hey guys! Sorry for the awkward spacing and format. I posted this on my iPod. So new story. I got this idea from--well, you could say--a personal experience. Love you all hope you enjoy the story x