MARCUS FAROOQI ISN'T MUCH FOND OF violence.
Scratch that.
He hates violence. His friends, Elijah and Joshua — the notorious troublemakers of Grove Wood High were the ones who got into trouble. They had issues— to put it lightly. Issues with the thugs that roamed around their school, catcalling passing girls to their cranky headmaster who would march around their school in her black peeptoes making goosebumps arise. Marcus had always been the unsaid peachmaker of his group who would save the day by giving sheepish smiles and apologies.
Until now.
"Jesus Mark!" Takeshi yelled gripping his friend's arm, "leave him alone. "
The curly haired boy blatantly ignored him as his fists kept on showering punches. Brent who was lying on the ground in a fetal position laid his hand on his stomach while the other feebly patted Marcus's towering form. His calf to be exact.
Yamaguchi Takeshi had never been in a fight before. He was more of a onlooker as his friends beat the crap out of others. But even he knew that patting someone while they punch you to a bloody pulp isn't much of a beneficial move. He yelped and again tried to shove his friend off the blonde.
"Stop!" Takeshi grasped Marcus's elbow and trued to stop it from hitting his target — but Marcus immediately freed it and continued his actions. Takeshi never felt more helpless than before. He highly regretted his decision of not taking Taekwondo classes.
Brent gasped for air, his mind turning into a fog while blood poured out from its nose and mouth. His cheeks had several cuts, with both of his eyes turning into a dark purplish color. He attempted to stand up but only ended up falling back with a thud. He let out a blood curdling shriek when the pad of Marcus's canvas collided with his abdomen.
Pain was a small understatement to what he might be feeling.
Sensing that the fight was taking a dangerous turn— a turn that might send his friend to jail, Takeshi ran out of the room. He didn't care one bit for Brent Thompson. That cocky bottle blonde had done the same or maybe the worse to several students of the school — girls included. The only reason that made the Japanese boy run to some few boys who were talking outside was because of his friendship with Marcus.
Marcus doesn't deserve to go to jail by murdering some stupid punk who had the IQ of a baby tree stump.
"There is a fight. Please stop them. "
The boys shared a look before hurrying towards the direction, Takeshi was pointing to. They got inside the room and immediately, two boys grabbed hold of Marcus and pulled him back while the others shielded a very wounded Brent. The senior grunted and rolled over in pain. The floor of the changing room was caked with his blood.
"That fucking so—" Brent coughed, glaring at Marcus. He staggered forward, attempting to punch him. Suddenly a hand shot out of nowhere and closed around his fist gently pushing him back. His face visibly paled under his spray tan when his eyes connected with none other than the king of Grove Wood High —Wyatt Matthews.
The other boys let out a relieved gasp.
Wyatt rose an eyebrow, daring Brent to challenge his authority. The action did had it's desired effect as Brent stepped back, bowing his head like a submissive puppy.
Wyatt Matthews wasn't just a name — it was a craze among the students. The devilishly handsome quarterback was a cut out version of Mars. Some might consider him as Adonis but the previous suited him better. Steely grey eyes, ashy blonde hair, a toned body combined with the confident aura he carried himself with— he was the package. The god of war couldn't do it better.
He faced Marcus. "Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?"
Brent tried to open his mouth but Wyatt cut off with a glower. "Don't utter a word. You surely must have done something to rile him up. Marcus isn't the type to go around picking fights."
Brent looked away with a clenched jaw. He knew better than to argue. The last time some foolish boy did that, he was immediately decorated in colorful shades of black and blue. A few broken ribs were part of the menu.
"Just drop it already." Wyatt said in a diplomatic voice. He gave Marcus a lopsided grin. "Yeah. "
Marcus nodded absentmindedly. Brent grunted and marched out of there, his cronies flanking him.
Marcus wrestled himself out of the grip and took his jacket from the ground. The flashy blue texture of it was stained with blood. His grip on the jacket tightened while familiar thoughts rushed into his mind. He fought the urge to cover his ears and scream at them to stop doing it.
"I need to go." Marcus pulled on the jacket, ignoring the way some of the blood fell on his collarbone. He faced Wyatt with a poker face that would have made Elijah feel proud. "Thanks Wyatt."
Wyatt nodded as Marcus ran out of the room with Takeshi hot on his heels.
—
"It's not your fault, Mark." Takeshi said, ramming his palms on the bathroom stall.
"God, come out okay. We can talk thi—" Another knock —"Hey are you even listening? "
Marcus ignored his friend's cries. He stood in front of the mirror with the running water drowning the underside of the sink. His hands were holding the edges of the sink in a sort of praying position. Looking at the sink, he found his reflection was blurred up. Relief and happiness filled him.
Until he saw his reflection in the mirror.
A boy around seventeen stared back at him. Bright hazel eyes that hogged up compliments, angular cheekbones and the defiant tilt of his square jaw.
"I am not a monster." Marcus closed his eyes, guilt gnawing at him as he envisaged Brent's horrified expression when he delivered his first kick. He saw images vividly flash across his mind. A man holding a gun. A woman walking. Children crying in sorrow. A seven year old boy clutching the cold skinned corpse of a man lying on his feet.
"Hell," he cussed, running his hands over his curly strands, threatening to pull them apart.
"I am not a monster." He repeated his words, bending on his knees to stifle his sobs. "Please stop."
Everybody has their demons and pain. It seems like Marcus has just unleashed his.
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The Blonde Bitch Syndrome
Teen Fiction[ O N G O I N G ] "They are blondes. They are bound to be bitches. Right? " - Previously known as "Pretty Faces". - Status: Raw Draft