Bully

Chapter 2

  “Brat!” My father yelled, swiping my face with his hand, leaving my skin stinging. I was so used to the pain that I didn’t even wince. “Steal my beer again and I’ll cut your throat!”

   “I wasn’t stealing it,” I dared to answer back, though I kept my voice quiet and soft in hope it wouldn’t anger him and he’ll hear me out. Of course, my hope was in vain. His hands clamped around my throat and squeezed hard, depriving me of precious oxygen. I squirmed in his grip, choking and desperately trying to breathe as my lungs grew heavy.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy,” he hissed in my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine in fear. Suddenly, his hands let go and my whole body sagged to the floor, my chest pumping up and down rapidly to recover some much needed air.

  I bowed my head, admitting defeat. I was only clearing away the empty beer bottles; otherwise I knew I’d get beaten for leaving the house in a state however I had been accused of stealing it, despite the fact that there was no liquid in them. “Sorry father,” I murmured, a dizzy sensation making me feel lightheaded and nauseous as I spoke.

  His foot collided with my back before he grabbed a tuft of my hair and yanked my head back, so his cracked lips where millimetres from my ear. I groaned at the pain, still panting as I tried to maintain my breath. My stomach churned uneasily as the waft of cigarettes and beer rolled off his mouth. The smell was so strong and disgusting, it made me want to keel over and throw up the handful of biscuits I had indulged in for breakfast. “You are pathetic boy,” he growled, his voice sounding so animalistic. “You’re mother would have been so ashamed of you,”

  He tugged my head back once more, sending pain shooting down my spine before getting up and leaving the house, making sure to slam the door shut behind him.

  His words hurt more than any wound ever could.

  Dragging myself to the kitchen, I ran the cold tap and splashed my face in hope that the red mark would fade before I arrived at school. I studied my reflection in the rippling water that filled the sink and winced. Since yesterday, the bruise had spread and turned an ugly purple-yellow colour, as well as swelled out so my eye was encased in a lump. The red mark from where he had slapped me had just deepened in colour and I let out a sigh as I realised that it would probably only worsen as I walked to school.

  At least no one had seen the black eye yet - then they would just assume that the red mark on my face was also from the same ‘fight’ as the black eye, so they had no reason to be suspicious.

  Glancing at the clock a small smile lit up my face as I recognised that it was time I should be leaving. Unlike most kids, school was the best part of my life. It was the time when I was the one in power. When I didn’t have to worry about when the next beating will be or what it would be this time and how to hide it. School was my kingdom, where people would bow down to me and shake with fear when I set eyes on them. School was my get away from these horrible, abusive walls.

  I slung a bag over my shoulder  - one that I had bought a while ago from my dads stolen money – and practically skipped out of the house, glad that the weekend was finally over. In contrast to millions of kids, weekends were the worst part of my week.

  I trekked to school, not in the slightest bothered about the snow that sprinkled from the grey morning sky. It felt nice on my inflamed skin. The cold bit my bare fingers but I was almost ready to laugh at this inferior pain. In fact, it couldn’t even be described as pain. My body barely even registered it, as it was so hardened to much more intense pain from years of my father’s twisted actions.

  I was almost saddened when I reached the school’s gate; the snow soothed my skin so much. However school was my paradise, so I slipped in the gates alone, aware of the empty grounds which signalled school had already began. I sighed, not wanting the hassle with being late. If I hadn’t dawdled about in the snow I would have avoided all the stares from everyone I’m going to get after my latest wound.