lonely boy.

They kicked me until I was throwing up blood by the ounce. I begged them to stop and they wouldn’t show any sign of mercy. They soon got tired and left me alone in the school parking lot.

When they all left I tried getting up but I was too weak, I couldn't really move at all. Even if I did get up I dont know where I would go, I live 16 miles away and no one really goes down this way at night.

  No one found me until morning when the secretary pulled in for work. She rushed to my aid and helped me up

“Oh my dear boy, what happened?!”

I could barely mutter a word through all of the blood in my mouth and throat. I sput some of it out of my mouth, the secretary, whose name is Mrs. James, gave me her water bottle to drink from. She took me to her car and drove me to St. Marys’ Hospital, which was 30 minutes away.

On the long ride there, she started asking me all of these questions and each and every one I didn’t reply. There was one question that caught my attention though; I’ve been going to this school my entire life and she still didn’t know. I was a junior in high school; I would think she would know by now.

“Sweetie, what’s your name?” She said to me hesitantly with the kind smile slowly falling from her mouth.

I wanted to tell her but I just felt pain in my mind and my body. I slowly opened my mouth and whispered

“Jackson.”

“Jackson what, hun?” She quickly replied.

“Jackson Cunningham."  I said quietly, a bit nervously too.

I clasped my hands together and kept rearranging my fingers in different orders to distract my self of the conversation that just withheld.

Whilst awkwardly sitting in the backseat waiting for this particularly very long drive to end I was thinking of my aunt. How she'd be worried sick because I hadn't come home last night. I was think that I would call her when I got there but I couldn't remember what her god damn phone number was 883-9928 or was it 893-9928.

I sort of dramatically sighed and Mrs. James looked at me and frowned. I mean what she said wasn't the most comforting but  I could tell she was worried about me.

I looked in the rearview mirror for the first time since I used the bathroom sixth period and saw how bloody and dead looking I was, I was surprised I still was actually. There was a 6 inch gash on my forehead that looked sick, I almost vomited. My cheeks were purple and blue and what looked like a boot mark on my neck. I looked down on my legs and hands and I saw my blue jeans stained with red  and I just wanted go to sleep but we finally got to the hospital.

Mrs. James parked in front of the ER and took me inside.

"Help!!" She called out with a frantic tone. My arm was a around her neck and she was trying to run but my legs were so broken I felt like a puppet with cut strings.

A doctor and 2 nurses rush to see what has happened. They brought me to a bed and kept reassuring me that everything will be okay like I wasnt just brutally beaten. After a while they start asking questions about who I am and how am I. The Secretary answered all of those questions because I was knocked out after the morphine and pain killers kicked in.