Dancing with the Devil. ~Phan

Part One.

Tw: Suggested self harm at the end. Description of injuries.

"What you looking at, fag?"

The words pierced through my heart like daggers, sending me into temporary paralysis; shock. I'd never heard that word before. It didn't feel right. It hurt.

Tears started to trickle down my rose-tinted cheeks as I glared into the eyes of the boy in front of me. I was familiarised immediately.

I was staring into the eyes of Philip Lester.

I looked away as rivers streamed from my own sorrowful lenses. "Coward." Crunch. My bones fracked underneath his forceful blows, winding me. I couldn't do anything about it; stuck. Why was in so much pain? Did I really expect something different today?

"Freak"
crack
"Pussy"
Snap

I looked down at my stomach through the thick (help me) layer of tears coating my eyes. There was one large purple and red bruise, about the size of my curled fist, on my left rib area, and numerous other cuts and scratches everywhere else.

My pink jumper now had red patches; bloodstained.

-

"Daniel!"
Upon arriving home, my mother instantaneously sensed that I was in pain. She saw a few grazes on my cheeks and forehead. I was met with a ferocious embrace, which caused me to wince at the contact to my bruises. More tears escaped me.

"Who did this to you?" I shook my head, denying answers.
"Dan I'm serious."
"Just some boys, mum it's fine."
"No, it's not fine. Who did this!?" She got angrier by the second.

I headed towards my room, cursing as the stairs put force on my burning muscles. My bed hadn't been made well this morning, so it was easy to get in to. I sat up for a few minutes, until I finally decided what I should do.

I hugged myself tightly, wrapping my hands around my shoulders.

I scratched.