Just Hang In There

Prolouge

Prologue (Jacob)
I'm not the type of person you would consider popular or well known. I never have been and I never will. I am an outcast. I have dirty blonde hair and a German accent. I don't play any sports and I like to game. I'm also interested in reading, art, and music and my parents don't get along. I do my best to be optimistic, but it is hard. Life is hard.
Honestly, I don't feel the safest at school. There is a person who is willing to pick on me. I get shoved into lockers almost everyday and then get laughed at. I try to ignore it, the pain I mean, but it is hard. My back and arms are covered in bruises from the lockers. Normally, it is not too bad but there is a group of kids who always pick on me every chance they get.
Those kids are the jocks. They are on the football team, everyone in the school knows who they are, and pick on anyone who is different, especially me. I do my best to avoid them, but they always seem to find me. One day, I was in the bathroom splashing some cold water on my face to calm myself down. My beloved dog had passed and I was getting emotional. No one else was there. That changed when they walked in.
"Hey punk!" the tallest one said. I tried to cover my tears before they saw my face. "Did you flood the sink with your tears?" I remained silent and grabbed a paper towel and dried my face off. I heard snickers from behind him.
"Hey punk, I said did you flood the sink with your tears?" Again, I ignored him hoping he would just get bored of some quite outcast like me. Unfortunately, they don't quit. They grabbed me by my shoulders and shoved me against the wall. I didn't try to break free. I knew I couldn't break away even if I wanted to. They were too strong.
As they shoved me against the wall, I heard more snickers from behind them. I saw one of them hand Sullivan, who was the tallest one, a shiny object. To my horror, it was a pocket knife. I gulped.
"Is your accent even real, or do you fake it to get the slightest bit of attention?" said Sullivan. I felt sweat forming on my brow and upper lip. I didn't know what to do so I stayed silent. The longer I stayed quiet, Sullivan's knife seemed to grow closer to my face.
"I guess everyone was right. He is a mute after all." he said. I heard more snickers. I looked up, staring him straight in the eye. We started at each other for a few seconds before I yelled out. I screamed and I didn't care. I felt the knife graze my graze my eyebrow and soon felt a warm liquid run down my face.
"You little piece of crap!" said Sullivan. He turned around and ran out of the bathroom with his companions. I grabbed my face. I felt blood run into my hand. I made my way to the sink and looked at my pathetic self in the mirror. Luckily, the knife had not gone to far into me, just far enough to draw some blood. Soon, a teacher ran into the bathroom. He gave one quick glance at me and grabbed some paper towels and pressed it against my cut.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Some kid cut me with a knife," I said. I lowered my gaze.
"Who did it?" he asked with some force.
"I, I don't know," I lied.
"Okay, let's get you to the nurse. She will handle your wounds. Don't worry, we will find out who did it. Can you tell me what they looked like?" I didn't answer and he didn't seem to pressure me anymore. I let a few tears fall down my cheeks when we got to the nurse's office. She took care of me and I went home early.
But all of that happened a month ago. So far, they haven't done anything to me since.