𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝔾𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 ➷ ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟

. 1 .

Dan's P.O.V.

I walk on shaky legs toward the awful building they called school. My feet hit the pavement with soft thuds. My hands were tightly gripping my backpack straps, an act of anxiousness.

I look to my left, then to my right, before crossing the road. I continue on with my eyes glued to the comforting pavement. At least the pavement couldn't judge what I do or who I am; it's not sentient.

I arrive at the usual run-of-the-mill, classic high school after about three more minutes of walking. My house was an overall eight-minute walk away from school. I never bothered my mom to drive me there, and I don't have a car to drive anywhere.

Besides being the age to have a car and drive it, my mom was too broke to buy me one and I myself didn't have the money for one either.

I enter the school building and head straight to my locker. Keeping my eyes aimed downward, I walk as quickly as I can hoping to avoid any unpleasant encounters.

I reach my locker and put in the combination. I grab the books and papers I need out of my bag and stuff the things I don't need for now away.

I shut my locker and turn around to head to my first class, not caring I would be super early and have to sit there bored for a while.

I'm halted in my steps when I see Jackson Moore standing there, smirking and blocking me from moving anywhere other than where I was standing with my back to my locker.

Jackson was your typical jock guy. He had the classic jock jacket with the school's logo on it. He was on the football team, he went through girlfriends like a mole digs through dirt, and basically bullied anyone smaller and weaker than him.

That usually being me. I looked really small and weak probably due to the disorder I had. Osteogenesis Inperfecta, or as most know it, 'Brittle Bones Disease'.

Due to this 'disease', I was really short. When I say really short, I mean extremely short- I was 4'11. Almost a foot below average.

Everyone in this school towered over me, no matter how tall they were.

I had also come to school on multiple occasions with casts and crutches because I had broken a bone. This was easy for me to do, because you guessed it, my stupid frickin' disease! I was just basically the weakest and smallest person in this school. The perfect target for bullies.

So as Jackson slowly grew closer to me, I shrunk back in fear.

"Howell! How are you doing? Break any bones lately, ya freak?" Jackson taunts.

I shake my head and stand there in fear. I was never the most relaxed person, especially when Jackson was on my case and bullying me.

"P-Please don't hurt me, Jackson. I-I need to get to class."

"Oh don't worry Howell. Why would I ever want to hurt a little butterfly like yourself?"

He slams his hands against the lockers on either side of my head, making me jump.

He leans down so he was almost face to face with me.

I wish I could just sink back into the lockers and fall down in a dark void where I could just peacefully reside.

I shut my eyes tight, small tears falling from them.

"Aw, is Howell gonna cry? What's he gonna do now, hm?" Jackson taunts in a fake pouty voice.

I muster up all the courage I have, which is a not a lot may I remind you, and put my hands up against Jackson's chest. I try to push him away from me with all the strength I have, which, once again, isn't much.

"Go away." I say in a small voice. My attempt at pushing him away not doing anything.

"Wow, it's actually amazing how weak you are. It would be too bad if I did this then, wouldn't it be?"

Jackson then kicks my leg, and really hard. Me being the weakling I am, my leg gives out and I fall to the ground. The books and materials for my class I was holding quickly following, tumbling out of my hands as I grab my leg in pain.

The first bell rings and Jackson walks off, a chuckle evident in his voice.

"I could do worse, faggot. I would break all the fucking bones in your body if I could and not get kicked off the football team, you freak show."

I cringe at his words, more tears falling from my eyes. They roll down my cheeks and land on the quickly bruising leg I was holding.

Not wanting to be late to class, I push myself off the floor, trying to ignore the pain and lean against the lockers with a wince. I grab my fallen books and limp off to class.

I try to dry my tear-stained face and wet eyes before entering the worst class of the day: maths.