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She stood there while they tore her books. She had this look of shock on her face, but also a sense of helplessness. Her eyes followed all of the papers that were now on the other side of the parking lot where the wind had dragged them. When the guy, I think Graham was his name, tried taking her binder she wouldn't let go. He looked at her for a second and forcefully pressed his lips on hers. She tried getting out of his hold but it was no use, they only separated when he was ready. It was then that I found myself on top of Graham with my fist repeatedly meeting his nose. I could feel a small hand tugging at my right arm. After I was pulled off Graham, his friends drove off in their green pick up. I patted the blood from my knuckles on my black jeans and picked up my gray sweatshirt that fell.
The repeated pounding fists I felt on my back caught my attention. I turned my head to see Elisa pathetically punching my back. "What the hell are you doing?" Elisa stopped to catch her breath. "Why would you- do that?! You probably- just made everything worse!" Was she serious right now? "If it weren't for me you'd be getting raped or some shit right now." I spit the metal tasting liquid out of my mouth and onto the asphalt. After Elisa stayed quiet I began walking away. Once I made it half way down the street I could hear her catching up to me. I didn't acknowledge her, I heard her say a quiet, "sorry, I'm just not used to people sticking up for me so I don't know how to react." I sighed and grabbed her hand a little too aggressively and said, "it's alright, you're socially retarded I wouldn't expect you to know any better." She snorted and shoved my shoulder playfully.
"Where are you off to right now?" Should I tell her I'm headed to the hospital right now? "I'm going to see an old friend, what about you?" It wasn't a complete lie. "I'm going to church, gonna get my baby brother baptized." Jesus, poor kid "Wow, feel sorry for your brother." Elisa shrugged her shoulders and said, "me too."
I changed the story name again sorry not sorry
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The Outcasts | e.d
Hayran KurguShe wanted love; he wanted to feel something, and this was their last chance to do it. Here are two outcasts that go from not acknowledging each other's existence to spending their last night as seniors together. In the most problematic way possible...