(Scott POV)
I should just forgive him. I'm sure what he did wasn't meant to hurt my feelings. Yeah, he's being smart. He doesn't want the principle to find us and call our parents, and you already know that my parents are not okay with the whole 'hey, I like boys' thing. Why am I even mad? He just doesn't want what happened to . . . I'd rather not say, or I might cry my eyes out in the middle of AP Stats, but it didn't end well.
"Now, when is this due?" Mr.Vanderbilt inquires.
"Friday" the class groans.
"Excellent!" he chimes and claps his hands together. Wait, what was assigned? Oh, god. This daydreaming always gets the best of me. Everyone leaves while I gather my things. I pull everything to my chest and walk up to our professor.
"Um, sir?"
"Oh, Scott! How lovely it is to see you!" he cheers.
"Yes, thank you. Um, I have a question" he looks at me to proceed. "What exactly was assigned?" he looks at me in disappointment.
"Mr. Mathias, are we daydreaming about girls again?" If only he knew.
"Not exactly, how's Ben?" I quickly change the subject. Be is his fiance.
"Oh! it's our anniversary this weekend." And that led to a conversation that made me late for my next class, but he gave me a pass so I'm fine. I'm kind of glad that I'm going to be late, I don't want to pass Sean in the halls right now. But I really need to think about this, one more class and it's lunch, he'll absolutely see me then. I run to my next class, AP Psych, but I'm suddenly stopped by a hand against my chest. I look up to see who it was. I wish I could tell you it was Sean, I really do . . . but it wasn't. Sadly, it was Austin. He ties the collar of my shirt around his fist.
"You're coming with me" He growls. Fear covers my face. I try to break free, but unfortunately I don't have a very well built body, as you know.
"Not so strong without your boyfriend, are you?" Alex sneered. I look over Austin's shoulder and see her evil smirk, however, I wish I could say she was wrong. Without Sean I would never have been able to stick up for myself. For one, he's usually the one to stick up for me, and if he physically can't, then just his mere presence gives me a sudden burst of adrenaline or something, I don't know. It's like a blessing, more so a curse.
Austin begins dragging me down the halls to an unknown area in the school, I'm trying my hardest to break free, hold back tears, and just all around pray that they'll let me go. I've prayed and praye every night for it to stop. But, I didn't pray to God or Jesus, no, I've given up on them years ago. No, I prayed to anything, anyone that would listen. Anyone who cared. Anyone who would take a second to understand me.
The boys bathroom. Of course. Adrian kicks open the door, and Austin throws me in. Alex steps in behind them and locks the door. I slowly back away.
"Please" I plead, but I know they won't listen. He, Austin, grabs at my head, gripping every single strand of hair that touches his fingertips. He cocks my head back, reaching his mouth towards my ear.
"You know what we do to faggots like you, I don't know why you want us to keep reminding you" he deeply whispered, eerie and shaky with anger and barbarity. Adrian was across from me, and Alex sat on the edge of the sink with a wide grin plastered on her lips, and not a grin that makes you wanna smile back.
Adrian steps closer, holding an object up in the air, but I can't quite make out what it is.
'Click'
Oh, god. No. My stomach churns, my head begins to throb. I try to wrestle my way out, but he won't budge, and that's when I hear another whisper in my ear.
"Don't move, it'll only make it worse" Adrian was now inches away from me. He grabs my wrist and slips my jacket sleeve up, he notices the bandage, he unwraps them. I can feel the cold metal against my skin. I feel it press harder, tears run down my cheeks as he tears open my skin. I feel the blood flow down my arm and then I hear it, dripto the floor, making a small puddle on the tiles.
He slides the cold metal blade across my other arm. Again, drip, drip, drip, making a puddle below me feet. Adrian nods at Austin, which I'm guessing was a signal for him to tug at my hair and drag me into a stall, as he did so. He pushes me to the ground, twisting my hair in his tight fist. He drags me to the toilet, I hate this part. He dunks my head under the unpurified water, I try and hold my breath so I don't have to taste the foul liquid. He lifts my head up so I can have a second to gasp for air, but only a second. He dunks me in, again, and again, and again. He finishes and forcefully lifts me up by my scalp. He pulls me up till I'm on the tips of my toes. Alex comes over, she grabbed my waist a burst of uncomfortablity and apprehention burst through my body. She slips my jeans off, revealing only my boxers and pale, bare legs. I'm almost relieved she didn't take off any more. She holds out her hand to Adrian, he hands her the knife. I try to hold back tears. Why won't they stop?!
"Don't be scared Scottie," she said, taking a few steps closer, and throwing a smirk on her face. Austin cupped my mouth, so they can't hear my wimpers. "I can see you've done this before," she mocks. I despise her. She bends down and pushes the pocket knife against my thigh, hard. Slice. A tear runs down my cheek, but only one. Slice. It's getting easier, ignoring the pain. She goes to my other leg, slice. I'm suddenly feeling relieved. Slice. I can feel the blood rushing down my leg, I almost feel happy. A small smile creeps up on my lips. And it's over.
Alex looks up at me and smirks. She stands up, practically sliding up my body. Disgusting. She cups my cheek with her hand, inching closer to me. Her breath smells like alcohol and peppermint. I turn my head away from her. She leans away and smiles wider.
"Still not cured, huh?" She laughs. "Guess we'll have to keep trying" she explains, squeezing my thigh, making the pain worse. Austin drops me to the cold tiled floor and they leave, laughing at what they've done. I slowly stand up, sucking up the aching pain in my thighs, giving me a sort of déjà vu. I reach for the paper towels, I dampen them under the warm faucet. I clean my fresh cuts, covering the paper towel in blood, I grab another one, repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I remember a lesson we learned in history, the Bubonic Plague. Back then, they believed that if you cut the patient's wrists and let them bleed out into a pot, it would cure the sickness within them. I guess we're still using 18th century practices today. Interesting.
I hadn't notice the tears rushing down my face til' they start to make a puddle on the sink, almost as big as the one on the floor. I wipe them away, again, again, and again, but they don't stop. I grab a two handfuls of paper towels, I get on my hands and knees and begin to wipe up my mess.
My mess.
The mess I made.
I deserve this.
YOU ARE READING
The Wonderful Tales of "Straight" Scott
Teen Fiction"Guys sleep at each other's houses all the time, it's just a friend thing. Because you don't like him. You. Are. Gay. STRAIGHT, I meant straight, s t r a i g h t." First story. (WARNING : I suck at writing) (WARNING #2 : this book is very much clich...
