I Need A Reason (boyxboy)

~2~

Tyler's POV

I walked tiredly down the crowded hallway. Several people shoved me out of their paths. It was like I was a piece of paper on the ground, just being kicked around without a care.

Around the lockers, the hallway has a little more space. Then, I see him. Elliott Rodney. He's in the grade above me, and is the most handsome boy in the school. He's also a 'Questioning Queer'. He tried to explain it to his ex-girlfriend and it spread around like wildfire.

Elliott's a nice guy, but I can't trust him enough to have the slightest crush. Being betrayed at a young age does tend to make your mind a little cynical.

I walk, my head down and the chatter of the students slowly quieting as I pass. Three boys and William, my main bully, walk and bump into me purposely. "Hey. Watch where you're going," Will scoffed. I dodge his impacting palm and walk.

Two of William's friends follow me and cut me off. They slap the broken binder and torn journals out of my grip. All  conversations stop. All eyes are on me.

Slowly, but surely, the students start to chuckle. "Where do you think you're going?" They ask. "Nowhere," I mumble, trying to push my way past them. "Good," Howard smirked.

Picking up a single sheet and crumbling it, Chase threw it at my face. Other kids mimicked, finding spare paper in their lockers and throwing it at me.

"Queer!"

"Faggot!"

"Loser!"

"Freak!"

The list of their foul names went on and on. Those who weren't cursing me out laughed and pointed. I could catch glimpses of teachers walking by and looking through their door windows.

No one bothered to help. I think that's what I'll miss the least when I leave. I feel a few tears come down and drip on the dirty tile.

"What's wrong?" Chase asks, pathetically. "Just leave me alone," I beg. Its bad enough living with Jason and my mom, I don't need you pricks making my day hell! Of course, fearing torture, I stayed silent and yelled at myself mentally.

I walk past them, rolled up papers stool being tossed my direction. They hit my head, chest, back, everywhere. Their laughter and words hurt more, but they don't know that. They don't know anything about me, but they think that it's their right to treat me like something dead. Something different, because different is never scoured in society.

                          I'm sick of it all.