Last one standing

Unknown

I walked into class on Tuesday morning, not expecting anyone to talk to me or look at me. I was the unknown classmate, though I was probably known but just wasn't that social. I have never talked to anyone in this class, ever. I am the mistake, the loner, the person who everyone ignores. I don't care what others thought about me, I don't care if people try to talk to me, I don't care if I am always a loner, I prefer it this way.

The day was just like any other day, we learned, they socialized while I watched, and we we all went home, except for me. I stayed, cleaned up the room, rubbed away whatever was written on my desk, finished my homework, and did everything I could to procrastinate going home. It was around 6 when I actually left school. I walked around for a hour before sighing, gathering up my nerves, and going home. I was almost to my door when I saw a kid from my school ride past my house. He was new, with brown hair, tan skin, and the prettiest hazel eyes I've ever seen, I think his name was Lance. I wondered why he moved in this rundown neighborhood instead of buying a place in the more normal areas for kids. This place was a dump, with dried up grass, creeps lurking around every corner, and rundown old buildings. My house was a short, brown house with broken windows, a wooden door, and a roof that was missing at least half the shambles that was supposed to be on there. It had old crooked steps and splintering chairs on the porch. It was where I had lived all my life, me, my dad, my mom, and my older brother. I was adopted and never liked my family, I should say I never liked how my family treated me. I'll just show you, it's kinda hard to explain. I braved myself for whatever was behind the door. I slowly opened it and peeked my head inside, it was dark. I don't think my family was home yet, that's a relief.

I quickly and quietly go to my room, or should I say closet and open the door. That's where I made my mistake. The door flew open and six hands grabbed at me. I made a muffled scream as the hands pulled me out, slowly showing me the body they were attached to. It was my family.

My mom held my feet, my brother(who is 21) held my torso, and my dad held my head, keeping my mouth closed with his strong and firm hand. I squirmed and tried to get out of their grasps as they pulled me toward their bedroom, knowing exactly what to do. They put me in a dark room with a single chair. It was the biggest room in the house, and they used it only for one thing, torturing me. Now only my brother physically tortured me, my mom and Dad mentally tortured me by saying things bullies would say like
"Go die motherfucker!"
Or
"You are not good enough to be treated like a human being, you're a monster!"

I was adopted at when I was 10 months old. I only remember some small things about my real family, like their smiles or the way they made me eat food. I snapped back to reality when the door closed then opened a few moments later with something burning. It was a metal rod, so hot it was literally melting. They had duck taped my mouth closed so all I could do was watch and shake as they lifted up my shirt to show my muscular yet small stomach. They put the metal up to my skin and I could smell the burning from a mile away, except I wasn't. I was the one getting burned, and it hurt like all hell had broken loose. I felt tears fall down my face as they pushed a little harder, making me try to tell in pain, although it was useless as they had duck taped my mouth.

They took hold of my hair and pulled, making my fall down with the chair and land face first in the most uncomfortable position I had ever been in before. They pulled on my hair again, making me look at their faces, all I saw was the fake smiles of demons closing in on me.

——————The next morning—————
I woke up at 6 am and went outside, still hurting from last nights torture. I started stretching out, hoping that with a little running, I could forget about what happened last night, or all the nights before. After I finished stretching, I started running down the street at a slow pace, warming up before my usual pace. I looked at the other side of the street and noticed the new boy from school going the same pace as me. He was wearing headphones and a blue t-shirt with shorts that went down to the knee. What looked like his friends were following behind, looking exhausted and wanting to go back to bed. I started going at my usual pace after a few minutes and raced ahead of him. He looked up and noticed my presence for the first time. The boy looked back at his friends starting to lag behind and stopped allowing them to rest. I kept going.