The Pain, Redux(Ivy x Abused Male Reader Rewrite)

2: How to make it worse

  It seemed to be only a moment after you fell asleep when you were violently awoken by the sound of shattering, then intense pain flashing through your head.

  "Get up!" Was the first thing you heard your father say. You scrambled where you were, feeling glass dig into your hand. Before you could get up, a hand grabbed onto your neck and lifted you with a grip of iron.

  "Did I stutter?" You heard your dad growl. You shook your head.

  "Then get up!" He threw you back onto the ground, thankfully away from the broken glass. You forced yourself to your feet, under your father's resentful stare.

  "Make breakfast. Your mother wants eggs." You nodded, and he slammed the door. You looked to the ground, where glass lay on the newspapers you used as a bed, and sighed. With bleeding hands, you grabbed an outdoor broom and hastily swept the shards into a pile in the corner of the garage. It was mostly clean-clutter free, that is. Literally, it was dirty as garages get- with a few things you set up. You grabbed a wet rag from a deep sink that constantly leaked from the faucet, and used it to try and clean your wounds. Of course, the blood didn't stop immediately, but you had to do what you would. Biting your lip to distract yourself from the pain, you tried your best to stop the bleeding. After a minute, the cuts stopped bleeding, and you opened the garage door. Entering the kitchen, you did your best to quickly make eggs. Your parents preferred them to be fried, slightly crispy, with a dash of salt and a runny yolk. You struggled to meet these requirements while keeping your hands from bleeding again.

After a few minutes, and a tear from some salt getting in your cuts, you washed your hands off after setting the table. You sighed as you walked into the garage again. You grabbed your bag, took out the empty containers that once held food, and walked back into the kitchen, ready to get away. The dining room only showed your parents eating breakfast. You simply walked past, hoping not to get called out. Putting on your shoes, you walked to the door, before something crunched under your feet. You looked down to see shards of glass from yesterday. You sighed and opened the front door, before grabbing the shards, and tossing them into a nearby bush, careful not to get cut. Upon completion, you walked outside, shutting the door, and running to school.

On the way, you took a check over yourself. You were heavily bruised from yesterday, and when you spat, it was tinted red. You felt the back of your neck, and winced. There was a bruise. You moved your hair, which was growing pretty long, to partially cover it, and slightly raised your collar to cover the rest of it. You just finished this when you arrived at school. With a sigh, you got ready for another day.

As the hours passed, all you really felt was numbness, from the injuries you suffered. It also took great lengths to hide these from the other students, and teachers. Teachers were definitely hardest to hide stuff from. Always trying to make you budge and spill secrets. Last time you let that happen, in elementary school, the claims that came forth were all denied, with lack of evidence at the time, and your beatings grew exponentially. You weren't going to let that happen again.

It wasn't until your last hour, Health class, that you were forced to speak again. You were at your desk, absently scribbling random crap in a notebook, before the teacher cleared his throat.

"Mr L/n." You looked up at the teacher, who continued.

"Can you tell me three bodily fluids that most carry the HIV virus?" You nodded.

"Blood, semen, and.... breast milk." The teacher nodded in approval.

"Great, cause that's not what we're talking about." A number of students laughed. Your face started to heat up from the attention.

"As I was saying, the project will start next week, and you will have until Friday of the following week to prepare. I have chosen partners for this, and what subjects you will be covering. You will have this hour, after school, and during lunch to work. Please come take your rubric when I call your names." The teacher spoke. You looked down, starting to breath heavily from the people staring at you until their attention was drawn away.

If you remembered correctly, there was an odd number of students in the class. Hopefully that meant you would be stuck alone, and you could just not do the wor-

"Y/n and Ivy, working on.... the circulatory system." The teacher spoke up, and your gaze snapped up, disbelief evident on your face. You weren't even aware that she was in this class. You looked around the room before you spotted the She-devil herself, taking the rubric, and smiling at you. You shivered. The bell rang.

"And that's all the time we have. Have a great weekend, see you all on Monday." You almost had a stroke from the words of the teacher. Was it already Friday? Before you could contemplate on that, you recoiled from a hit in the face by a crumpled ball of paper. You looked at as it landed on the desk. You nervously grabbed it, standing up, and walking out of the class. You straightened out the paper, to see words written on it.

We're working in the lecture room. You better get me a good grade.

You only crumpled it back into a ball, sighing, before throwing it into a trash can. You sighed as you approached your locker, ready for even more hell.

"Where do you think you're going?" You sighed as you heard the familiar snarky voice of Ivy from behind you.

"Home." You responded. You heard a chuckle.

"Oh no you aren't." You felt two hands grab your shoulders and shove you against a locker. You saw the faces of Ivy's goons, Alex, and... someone. You forgot their name. Ivy twirled a key on a lanyard around her finger as the hallway started to grow empty. As the last students left, Ivy opened up a locker, and you were forcefully shoved in. The door slammed.

"Have a great weekend!" She called out, followed by a giggle. You only stayed silent in response. When the footsteps receded, you struggled. Banging against the locker, trying to kick it open, nothing worked, until, about 5 minutes later, you heard keys jingling, and the locker opened. You tumbled out, almost falling into a bucket of water.

"You Okay There sport?" You looked up to see a janitor. You only nodded.

"Alright. If you're getting bullied, make sure you report it to the office, Okay?" You nodded, and the janitor walked off.

"Have a good weekend!" They called out. You only sighed and walked away, out the doors. Report Schmeport. It never helped you to do that. You began the walk to hell all over, not ready for the weekend.

~ASnazzyGuy

~1197 Words