Hatred

Chapter I

Chapter I

I awoke in the boy's locker room stall, my head pounding and an overwhelming soreness. I felt a warm and sticky substance on my face. I reached up and touched it, my fingers came away red. Flashes of what happened began to flow. It was Daniel, he was hassling me in the hallway when I was gathering my belongings to return home for the day, and he attempted to shove me, but I showed resistance and attempted to block his hands. Disapproving, he shoved me into the boy's locker room. He socked me in the gut and I crippled over in pain. He grabbed my head with his goliath hand and smashed it into the white painted brick wall. With my vision blurring, I couldn't maintain my balance. But before I collapsed, he body slammed me into the locker stall door and it opened up on impact. I passed out, and just now I came to.

This was pretty much the norm for Daniel, that son of a bitch. He did stuff like this all of the time, not just to me, other kids too; however, I did appear his main target.

I hated him, I hated him a lot.

The wall clock read 5:30, school had been out for a while now. I got up and opened the bathroom stall door, holding onto it for a second to regain my balance. I walked out of the locker room and into the school hallway, I grabbed my backpack from my locker and walked out the back door of the school.

I walked across some roads, through some alleyways, down some back roads, and into the trashed trailer park where I resided with my alcoholic parents. I opened the door to our trailer and entered; my dad was asleep on the couch, which is pretty much all he does besides drinking, getting stoned, or beating me. I tiptoed to my room so not to wake him, set my bag down beside my bed and took off my shoes.

I pulled out my medical kit from my dresser and opened it, it was full of things I had gathered over the past years to treat my wounds, I took out a cloth and a Band-Aid, along with a Tylenol and ice pack. I went back out into the kitchen and put the ice pack in the freezer, then headed back to my room and grabbed the cloth. I walked across the hallway into the bathroom and soaked the edge of the cloth in lukewarm water. I returned to my room, sat down on the edge of my bed, and began to dab the cloth at the dried blood around my nose and my numerous scratches. Once I was somewhat cleaned up, I went back out to the kitchen and retrieved my ice pack, then tiptoed back to my room and laid down on my bed. I took a small mouthful of the water from the glass beside my bed and swallowed the Tylenol. Then I leaned my head back onto my bed and wrapped the cloth around the ice pack, placing it on my head. Eventually I dozed off and went into a heavy sleep.

I was awoken by the sound of my dad screaming and cursing at my mother, I could hear her frightened protests, but he ignored her and continued ranting. I heard him slap her and yell something else at her before he stopped screaming and stormed towards the bathroom. I hid behind my bed so he wouldn't see me when he passed my room. Luckily he didn't notice me and he walked straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, making our trailer rattle and creak.

I got up and put away my medical bag before going out into the kitchen to see my mother, not because I was worried for her or cared about her, I hated her as much as my father. She was leaning up against the kitchen counter, swallowing pills so she could get a buzz and forget about what had just happened; I suspected as much, she always did that. When she wasn't doing drugs, she was either drinking and partying, or at home, getting abused by my dad or something, which always led to her popping pills again, which usually made her yell at me for nonsensical things with no particular reason.

As far as I knew, they were my only living relatives, and I hated both of them, for everything they did and didn't do to me. I'm sure if I did have any other family, then they wouldn't be any better; probably the main reason my parents are the way they are is because of their own parents, but that still doesn't give them an excuse. I'd be better off without them, I know that much.