Dylan's POV
Walking home from school, I plug in my head phones, blocking out all the bullshit around me.
Glancing around, I see all the students swerving put of the parking lot in their cars.
'Ohhhhh I miss the misery!' I sing to myself. Walking down the sidewalk, I see the cheerleaders practicing on the football field.
Wow, what a waste of time. Involving yourself in those kinds of things, when in all actuality none of any of this is going to matter after high school.
But its whatever, these losers can do whatever they like with their lives. Not like my opinion matters to anyone.
"Where the hell have you been?!?!" I hear my fathers voice boom as I walk in the door.
"I've been at school dad," I seethed, walking towards my room.
"Don't you walk away from me," he yelled, grabbing me by my hair and throwing me to the ground.
"Dad, you're drunk," I said, wincing as he slaps me hard across the face.
"And you're a worthless piece of shit," he says, picking me up and throwing me into the wall. I cry out in pain as my shoulder slams into it.
"Get lost you dyke!" He bellowed, walking back over to his chair in front of the TV.
I scrambled to get my things and ran to my room.
Bolting the door closed, I flop down on my bed and cry myself to sleep.
'Take it all from the inside, and throw it all away......cuz I swear, this is the last time I trust myself with youuuuuu' my phone plays.
Rolling over I turn it up, and start getting dressed. Grabbing a metallica T-shirt, and some black jeans, throwing on my black combat boots, I walk out of my room.
My dads not home, so he's either at the bar, or out actually looking for a job.
Walking into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I notice the hefty bruise Im sporting on my cheek.
Shrugging, I grab my bag, and head out the door. Its not like anyone would notice. Let alone care.
My classes go by painfully slow, and its feels like forever before the end of second period comes.
Heading to my third period, Economics, I drift off almost as soon as the teacher starts talking. Soon enough the bell rings.
I stand and grab my things, walking out of the classroom.
I honestly cannot say that I hate my English teacher just the same as all the rest. Due to the fact that she actually said something to that snotty wannabe cheerleader. Most, of not all, my other teachers would've pretended not to have heard it. So I guess that gave me somewhat a sense of respect for her.
There's also the fact that she absolutely stunning. No one would get me to admit that out loud though.
Walking into the classroom, I keep my head down, and head to my seat in the back.
As the bell rings, signalling the beginning of class, Ms.Foster comes in, glancing around the room, until her eyes fall on me. Her face fills with curiosity and sympathy. She looks away and head towards her desk, pulling out a stack of papers, handing them out.
I look down at the paper she handed me, it was the essay thing we did yesterday.
'Don't worry, I didn't think you were a sociopath. And I did actually read your paper. And I find it quite respectable that you result to writing instead of violence.'
I smiled slightly as I read the note. Looking up I saw her watching me. Once she noticed me looking back, she smiled and stood.
"OK class, today I am going to be giving each of you your own notebook. You will write in this at least once a day. Kind of like your own personal diary. The pages you don't want me to read, go ahead and just fold it down and write 'private'. All the other pages I will read, and give you a daily grade for it." Ms Foster said, coming closer to the back, she handed me a notebook.
"She me after class?" She said softly, looking at me. I nodded and took the notebook.
The rest of the class wasn't so bad, all we did was read and annotate an article about Michigan. And soon enough the bell rang.
Standing up, I slowly put my things away in my bag, and observe her slightly as she waves bye to all of her students.
She looked good today. She was in a nice green button up. A rocking pair of jeans, in which hugged her ass perfectly.
As the last student left the room, she closed the door. Walking towards me, I step a small step back.
"So, are you going to tell me about what happened to your eye?" She said, sitting down on the desk nest to me.
I shrugged and looked down at the floor. Not really wanting to talk about this. I shifted on my feet, and fidgeted with my fingers.
"Were you in a fight? Was it someone who's close to you? Your mom? Your dad?"
"Stop!" I say, getting irritated. "Stop, ok? Just stop. You don't know me. Nor do you know anything about me. So stop acting like you care!" I say, grabbing my things and storming put of the room.
I know she was just trying to help me, but I don't need it. I've done perfectly fine on my own. I don't need anyone to take care of me.
I decided to just skip the rest of the day, and head to the gym.
