Justice Will be Served [13 Reasons Why Fanfiction]

Justice Will be Served

The strolling sky seem to observe me below. Entering back at school was a hard move for me.My parents declined the fact that I can stay at home. They truly wanted me to work my butt off in order for me to go to the places I want to go. The ability to move was annoying as soon I escaped from unconsciousness. The basic everyday things to do bugged me sometimes. Wake up. Shower. Eat. School. Home. Repetitively.

The thing with grades was so competitive. People rudely go up to others, ask about what grade they had and depending on what you have, the bullies would use words as bullets to pierce and harm the victim or use physical violence to encourage them to do terrible. It was worse one time. There was a boy who was kind and lovingly likeable. One of the jocks did the same routine about the grades. Blah blah blah. The teenager the jock confronted had a incredible grade. The jock used the metal water fountain and slammed the kid's face on it. I remembered that scene well and it still created scars every time I memorised that horrible scene. Lush crimson oozing out of his nose and mouth. That shocked, bewildered expression on his face. That jock standing tall, towering over that injured kid as he tried to crawl to safety. The kind kid left that day. His mother and father were outraged. The fact that the jock wasn't suffering any charges for his attacks since his parents were rich enough to pull him out of jail, it raged them just enough to take action into their own hands.

'The jock called Matt River was walking, always looking around, cautious of his own surroundings. What he did shook him. He thought what he did could release stress from the animal inside of him. Mostly everyone in school hated him now for the action he made to brutalise the kid, James Wing. Anyone can take the shot to ambush him and get the same treatment as James... But worse. That's why with his surprisingly suspicious actions. Normally with the jocks, they were tough cookies. Hit with earthquakes many times and come out untouched, no cuts nor bruises. But the harsh reality of it all, they were still human beings. Not unstoppable gods who represent the school by playing american football. Human beings. With emotions and feelings despite their hard core outside, inside they were soft teddy bears. His heart hammered. His eyes couldn't focus on the single pavement ahead of him. His mind repeatedly took the wheel to always check his behind. Nerves triggered, his fingers slightly ascended and descended to play a invisible piano while stationary or moving. He wore his letterman jacket, royal purple with a pinch of blood from giving James a beating. His parents dragged him out of jail and said to him that as punishment enough, to walk home. He needed the fresh air to recap on the today events of school. His bag, his companion with all of his belongings. Wore black trainers. Wore a coal-coloured shirt, nearly successfully hidden because of his jacket sheltering it. He had pale skin, head to bottom.

Suddenly, he wanted to ring up a friend of his, Callum Crane. Callum was always this easily forgivable person. But his actions may alter his behaviour, being more serious than calm. Callum was always calm and collected. Despite his thoughts are scattered on the floor, he was Matt's lifeline. The phone went.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. "This is Callum Crane. If I'm not answering you then please heck off otherwise leave a message that I will never listen to." Beep!

"Callum. This is Matt. Can you pick me up? I get this feeling that I'm being followed or watched. Like fuckin' seriously! I need-"

Whack!

A baseball bat struck him on the back of the head. Matt scrambled onto the ground, yelping in pain. The impact was greatly effective. Matt was confused and couldn't see anything. Tears blurred and distorted his only sight. He looked and looked. Nothing. What hit him? "Come out!" His voice was infected with anger and fear because of the single blow to the head. Constantly calling out into consuming darkness, he instantly collected his thoughts and sprinted away from the scene. But then he felt his head. His eyes couldn't believe it. Blood. Bloody blood! His eye lids were more wake from the sight. He ran and ran and ran and ran. He was a jock. He was used to running away long, long distances. But his head couldn't take it. He panted and halted, gasping for oxygen to retreat into his lungs and back through his mouth. Looking back, there was nothing. Nothing but the lamp posts shining happy beams of light. The moonlight brighten up the exposed pieces of pathways and roads in front of him. He wasn't being a victim. Not yet. Not now. Now ever. As soon as he turned-