UNDEFILED

Chapter Three

Song - "SING" by My Chemical Romance

Tyler's POV

"Where is it located?"

"I'm not telling."

Slam. I almost double over in the chair, but because I'm tied up, I can hardly breathe, let alone catch my breath.

"Where is it?" My interrogator hisses at me. I don't know what he's angry about. He's not the one getting beaten to a pulp.

"Do you not understand? I'm not telling you, idiot," I spit out some blood along with the sentence. My head snaps back with the next blow that echoes in my skull.

Before you start getting mad at the guy for taking advantage of me while I'm hurt - I'm not hurt anymore. It's been about two months since I tried to fly through the windshield of my car and got myself pretty banged up. Thankfully, I only broke, like, 103 out of the 206 bones in my body.

I'm just kidding. I think.

Besides, everything healed relatively quickly, so I'm now healthy, save for the fact that I'm getting a beating right now.

"If you just tell us where your headquarters are based, then all of this will stop." The guy sounds defeated. I mean, he knows that I'm not going to give in, and we both know he's lying. Even if I decided to reveal every single detail about my lovely organization, I wouldn't just be free or anything. I'd have a death sentence, and that's final.

"We both know that's not true," I mutter back, closing my eyes in anticipation of the next punch. However, the abuse I was expecting never came.

Confused, I blink at the man in front of me. He simply sighs and walks towards the iron door.

"Have fun dying here," he says before slamming the door shut behind him.

I just sigh in response. I've been in worse situations.

As I wait for someone to come back into the boring, dark room, I let myself drift into my memories.

~~~

"Tyler! You're going to be late for school!"

"I'm coming, mum!" I shout back to her, quickly grabbing all of my books before rushing to the door. I skid to a halt to give my mother a quick peck on the cheek, and begin running to school. I didn't have to run, necessarily. I would still be on time if I walked.

But I ran because I loved it.

I loved the adrenaline pumping through my veins, loved the feeling of the air rushing around, loved the satisfaction of simply going faster.

In only a few minutes, I arrived at my school and slowed my pace to a walk when the familiar feeling of being shoved to the ground occurs to me. I curled into a ball, waiting for the next kick or punch, but it never came. The only blow that I received was the haunting laughter of these bullies. I rolled my eyes and stood back up, a little wobbly because my head had hit the ground so hard. I gingerly touched my scalp, and when my hand returned, there was blood on my fingers. I had no idea what to do, so I went to class and acted like nothing had happened, just like every other day that I went to school.

~~~

I walked home from my first day of Level 2 of middle school. It had been a rough day; by now, the bullies had gotten bigger, stronger, and meaner. The scratches and bruises on my face, arms, and torso were proof of that.