Cassidy Brooks was a shy, quiet girl who often kept to herself, with no real friends, her only companion being her books. She believed the rest of her time in high school would be that way, until that one Saturday in March changed everything...
DISC...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Bender, now taking his place to show what his family life is like, runs his hand from his neck to his cheek, and putting on a drunk voice.
****Same key as Brian's family****
"Stupid...worthless...no good...Goddamned free-loading...son of a bitch...retarded...big mouthed...know-it-all...asshole...jerk!"
"You forgot ugly, lazy, and disrespectful..."
Bender snaps his hand back, having father hitting his mother.
"Shut up, bitch! Go fix me a turkey pot pie!"
"What about you, Dad?"
"Fuck you."
"No, Dad, what about you?"
"Fuck you!"
"NO, DAD, WHAT. ABOUT. YOU?!"
"FUCK. YOU!!!!"
Bender then acts out his father punching him in the face. My heart aches for Bender, as I can tell it's all true since he's so into it.
However, it appears nobody else feels the same. "Is that for real?" Brian asks.
"You wanna come over sometime?" Bender asks.
"That's bullshit, it's all part of your image. I don't believe a word of it," Andrew sneers.
Bender looks at Andrew, hurt and angry. "You don't believe me?"
"No."
"No?"
"Did I stutter?"
Bender stalks over to him, rolling up his right sleeve, revealing a nasty burn mark that even has me turning away.
"Believe this? Huh? It's about the size of a cigar! Do I stutter?" Bender spits out, leaning closer to Andrew, as the jock looks away. He continues. "You see, this is what you get in my house for spilling paint in the garage!"
Bender starts backing up, rolls his sleeve back down, and puts his hands up surrender style. "See, I don't think I need to sit here with you fuckin' dildos anymore!"
He stomps over to a small stand with textbooks on it, and shoves them all off, screaming and yelling. He then climbs up to the balcony on the second floor of the library, and sits down, legs through the bars, arms clutched onto it, panting heavily.
