'The end of the day is dragging on and on. I think I might have died about twenty minutes ago. Oh my GOD, is she still talking? How much do we need to know about the Revolutionary war, damn,' I think as I sit in class. It's still hot as shit outside and they haven't turned the air conditioner on. I am going to sweat to death; my head is sticking to my desk where I have had it for the whole time she has been talking.
I glance over at the clock. 'Ten more minutes,' I think as I look toward the front of the class where Mrs. Lawson is still talking. She is still talking but I have Charlie Browned her; I can't understand anything she says. I see her stop talking and look at the clock. The bell is ringing, thank god. I get up from my seat and grab my uniform jacket and my books.
"Hey," Daphne says as I walk out the door. I jump back and almost slam into the door as it is closing behind me.
"Fuck Daphne, you scared the shit out of me," I curse as I right myself and fix the books back into a secure position.
"Sorry," she offers. "So, what are you doing today? It is Friday after all," she says as we make our way down the hall to our respective lockers. I shrug my shoulders; I never really did much of anything.
"I don't know, probably paint and draw or something," I say as we get to my locker first. I know better than to not pay attention to details, I know that only studying the landscape is what gets people in trouble. "I can't go out cause my parents are going out and I have to watch Molly," I say just as the door to my locker slams closed, missing my hand by a fraction of an inch. Fucking goddamn Shaun Peters, I never even saw him coming. He is the detail.
"Taylor, I see you're hanging with your little bitch again," he says as he pushes me hard into the locker. The noise bounces off the walls in the now deserted hallway. I am trying so hard not to let him see the pain he is causing as the master lock digs into my back and his palm presses into my chest, there will almost certainly be a mark.
"Yeah, I see you're hanging with yours too," I say as I nod toward Brad and Jeffery. Brad is looking at Daphne like she is a piece of meat. "but I guess you need to have someone around all the time so you can take care of that cock sucking problem you seem to have," I press as I give him a little smirk.
He is as gay as the day is long and I knew that even before he sucked my dick. I watch the blood and anger flow through Shaun's body; he is turning a beautiful, sexy under any other circumstance, shade of red.
The fist that connects with my body doesn't register until it reaches back and makes contact with my jaw. I can feel the coppery taste invade my senses as he punches me again and my body kisses the floor hello.
"Fucking ASSHOLE," I say as they all walked away, turning the corner and making their way out the building. Daphne bent down to help me up and I see her eyes travel to my right jaw. 'Great,' I think.
"How bad is it this time?" I ask.
"Not as bad as last time but it is just starting to swell so you'll just have to wait and see. We should go and get some ice," she says as she helps me to my feet. I shake my head, fuck ice, my dad is gonna be pissed. We walk out the doors after Daphne grabs her stuff and I spit the extra blood that is pooling in my mouth into the nearby grass.
"I need to stop at the drug store before I go home," I say hoping that she will take the hint and go home without me, but, she doesn't.
"What for?" she asks as we turn toward the drug store, it is only a couple of blocks so we can walk.
"Nothing special, I just want to get some more drawing pencils," I tell her. We reach the store in record time and walk through the doors. It is so cool inside, nice change from the heat. I like the winter. When we get inside Daphne heads straight to the make-up aisle, I head toward the aisle with the pencils and wait until Daphne is really occupied.
I slip from the aisle after picking up new pencils and walk toward the grooming products, I am moving fast. I stand in front of the straight razors and pick up a pack, stuffing it into my bag. I love this drug store it is old school, no cameras. I am just zipping up my bag when Daphne shows up.
"What are you doing? Let's go, I gotta be home soon," she says as she turns and walks to the front of the store. I swing the bag around so that it is in the back of me and follow her to the checkout. I throw my pencils on the counter and pay; declining a bag I scoop them up and place them in my pocket. We walk the short distance back to our neighborhood and I say bye to Daphne when she reaches her house.
I walk the rest of the way to my house alone, swimming in my head. I stop at the end of the driveway and look at the front door, it seems so far away. I trudge up the driveway thinking 'Dead man walking.' I unlock the door and push inside, hearing silence I think just maybe luck is on my side. I hear my father call my name right as my foot touches the bottom step. 'Damn that luck, she is such a BITCH,' I think. I take my foot off the step and point it in the direction of the living room.
My dad is sitting there drinking a beer. "Justin, your mother and I are going to leave at six so you have a little bit of time before you have to watch Molly, okay?" he says. I nod my head, being careful to only show him the left side of my face, creating a profile. "Justin, would you please look over here, you're not taking a prison photo." I turn my body to face him fully.
"HOLY SHIT," he screams as he jumps up and takes my chin in his hand, turning my face so that he can get a better look. It must look worse than it did an hour ago.
"Who did this to your face?" he asks.
"It doesn't matter who did it," I answer back.
"Jesus Justin, you've got to start taking care of yourself. I mean if you let people beat you up they will, don't be so weak all the time," he says as he lets me go and ventures into the kitchen shaking his head at the shame of having such a weak son. I pick up the little pride that I have left and sling it over my shoulder as I head back up the stairs.
I close the door to my bedroom and flop back on the bed, my bag and uniform jacket occupying the space next to me. I close my eyes and for a brief moment I see Shaun's fist and bolt upright. I grab my bag and head into my bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I sit on the floor, back leaning against the tub and pull out a small safe box from my bag.
I reach around my neck and pull on the chain until the key becomes available. I pull it off my neck and open the box. It is filled with small bottles of hydrogen peroxide, alcohol, cotton swabs, bandages, gauze, a couple of small towels and many tubes of ointment. I get the new pack of razors out my bag and tear the box off. The little carrying case they come in keep me loyal to the brand.
I pull out one razor and set it on my folded leg; the rest going into the box. I pull out a towel and some hydrogen peroxide. When I have everything ready I tear off my uniform top, white and blood don't mix and the blood from my mouth is gonna be enough of a bitch to remove, it doesn't need to have company.
I choose a spot on the inside of my right arm; my legs are running out of room. I touch the thin, sharp blade to my skin and the feeling that flows through me is amazing. It feels just like the first time, when I was fifteen and my dad was yelling at my mom about why she let me join the art club. I could hear them screaming from my bathroom.
"He is going to grow up to be a fucking fairy Jen," he shouted.
It was an accident then, I was playing around with the razor and gripped it too hard when my dad shouted and broke the serenity. I welcomed the pain and the release tension; they came to be great friends.
This time and the times that followed after that were not accidents. My blood is running cold, the pain and tension feels great as it seeps out of me. I am controlling the pain and control is wonderful. I watch the slivers of blood as they make their way onto the towel that I have positioned for just such a purpose.
When I finally feel the last bit of pain leave me I drop the blade and push the towel onto the wound, stopping the flow. I wait until most of the blood has stopped flowing and drench the wound in hydrogen peroxide, white foams from the wound and I close my eyes and lay back, enjoying the oblivion.
"Justin, are you okay?" she asks as she knocks on the door. I open my eyes a little and look around, and then I remember where I am and start to sit up.
"Yeah," I answer her as I cover the wound in a bandage and put all my supplies away. I push the box into my school bag and return the key to its place around my neck. I open the door and come face to face with my mother. I smile brightly and close the door behind me.
"Your father told me that someone beat you up," she says as she tries not to be overly emotional. I have told her how much it bothers me.
"Hey mom, I guess I just lost track of time and no one beat me up. It was just a little misunderstanding," I say as I drop my bag on the floor and move to my closet, keeping my arm out of her sight. I start stripping out of the rest of my uniform as she follows me. "What? Did you want something?"
"Yeah, your father and I are getting ready to leave. Molly is in her room and there is a pizza on the counter," she says as she looks at my slightly flushed skin. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," I tell her with a weary look as I slip on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She just gives me a little smile and kisses my cheek, brushing the hair out my face. I plaster a smile on as she turns to leave my room. I sit down on the bed and wait for the front door to close and the sound of the car as it pulls away before grabbing a cigarette and walking downstairs and through the kitchen toward the back door.
Molly is sitting in front of the television fully engrossed in cartoons and eating pizza. "I'm going in the backyard," I say to her as I make my way out of the house, grabbing a slice of pizza on my way.
"Don't you think Justin is a little too weak Jen?" Craig asks his wife. He is becoming more and more concerned about their son and more importantly he is becoming more and more concerned about how his son is reflecting on him.
"He isn't weak, he is artistic and sensitive. That's not the same a being weak, he's just not a fighter," she says as she looks at Craig and then back down at her menu.
"I think that maybe I should spend some time with him, you know, man to man," he says firmly, more to himself than to Jennifer.
"Yeah, maybe you should. He might appreciate it."
'Yeah, maybe I should,' he thinks.
"Molly, go the fuck to bed. Mom and Dad said you had to go to sleep by 11p.m.," I tell her. I am trying so hard to keep my temper in check. I am starting to lose control and I don't like the feeling.
"Molly, NOW," I yell again, maybe the third time really is a charm. I watch as she slides off the couch and heads toward her bedroom. 'Ugh, fucking sisters.'
I check all the locks after I flick through a few channels and head to bed myself. I go into the bathroom and pick up the shirt and the towel, placing them both into the dirty clothes hamper. I climb into bed and pull the covers over my head welcoming nothingness, at least I hope so.
'I cannot believe that bitch Mrs. Carlson got me put in in-school suspension. Recommending that she take the stick out her ass to remove the pressure was not over the top,' I think as I sit at the table alone in the quiet room. I can hear the clock ticking and I can smell the heat. God I cannot 'wait' until winter hits this fucking place. I see the door start to open and I grab my pencil, pretending to work. I watch, without making it obvious that I am watching, as Mr. McCord brings that asshole Shaun Peters into the room, holding him by his jacket collar.
"Get your fucking hands off me, asshole," he yells as he fights to get free from the 6'2" teacher. Mr. McCord ignores his cries as he dumps him, quite unceremoniously into the chair on the other side of the table.
"I suggest you adjust your attitude or you'll be looking at these four walls for the entire week," he says as he walks back to the door. "Do your class work and stay in that seat," he says as he closes the door, leaving us both in silence, the isolated room serving as the landscape. We both sit there in silence, me pretending to draw, him waiting for me to acknowledge him.
'Fuck him if he thinks I have any desire to talk to him. We have never gotten along. Since fifth grade we haven't liked each other, no real reason, we just don't, life is like that sometimes,' I think as I turn the page of my science book. I see him move forward and place him arms on the desk and before I can react he snatches the book and throws it behind him. "What is wrong with you?" I ask as I get up and walk behind him bending down to get the book, never seeing him take in my ass, more landscape.
"Don't you ever get tired of studying all the time?" he asks as he pushes back and places his feet on the desk.
I pause before sitting, "Don't you ever get tired of acting like an ass?" I counter. I sit down in a huff and place the closed book on the desk, wiping the invisible dirt off the front and the back. I cross my arms and look at him, he is staring at me.
"Maybe sometimes," he whispers. I smile a little as some of the tension dissipates. "So, what the fuck are you in here for?" he asks. I guess the lovely moment has passed.
"I told Mrs. Carlson to get the stick out her ass," I tell him. He let out the loudest laugh I have ever heard from him in all our years at school together. "What about you?"
"Oh, I got caught smoking a joint in the east hallway," he says as he takes his feet off the desk and stands up. He is looking out the window and I can smell him, he smells like pure sex man, I could just lick him.
"What?" I hear him ask.
"Nothing," I answer as I try to wipe the drool away from my mouth without him seeing me do it. I see him smirk at me and I start to laugh on the inside. I pick my pencil back up and start to sketch him; I don't even think I am aware that I am doing it. I am working feverishly when he snatches it from me and holds it up to the window so he can see it in the light.
"Nice drawing, I didn't know you were so talented. Although, I am not naked right now," he says as he sits on the desk in front of me, spreading his legs open so that I am forced to sit facing his crotch. He leans forward, hands resting on the edge of the table and pulls my chair toward him with his feet. I let him because I am seventeen and really horny.
'No fucking way this is happening, a teacher can walk in at anytime,' I think as he leans in close to my face. I had no idea I was drawing him naked.
"Has anybody ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asks me, so softly I can almost have an orgasm from the tone of his voice alone.
"Shut up, I am not beautiful and if you think I am so beautiful why don't you act like it," I ask him. He looks at me like I just grew a second head.
"Because," he says in reply. I shrug my shoulders and accept that that is all he plans on giving as an explanation. I start to ask him another question when he crashes his lips down on mine, I can feel the heat start from the pit of my stomach and spread through all my organs. I am shaking with anticipation as he pulls me up and out of the seat, placing his hands on my hips. I am lost in him. I open my mouth to accommodate his tongue and I can taste the flavor of the lingering drug. We pull ourselves apart from each other and for a moment neither one of us says a word.
"Damn, that was unexpected," I say as I linger in front of his face, close enough to kiss him again. I watch the lust as it runs behind his eyes, dancing with excitement.
"Yeah, very unexpected," he says as he pulls me back to him and starts to kiss my neck, licking and sucking like a leech, if a teacher walks in now I will be in shits creek because I don't think I could stop if I wanted to. I feel his hand leave my hip and start to snake around to the front of my jeans, rubbing my now stiff cock through the fabric.
I can feel the other hand leave its place and join the other, both working together to release the offensive button. I feel the zipper start its slow decline and the warm hand as it makes its way down
"Justin, Justin mommy said to get up now, she said you've been sleep long enough," I hear Molly say as I open my eyes slowly and take the covers from over my head. I groan as I feel the nice hard cock that the dream has given me, thankful that I have the covers firmly pulled up and am laying face down.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"It's almost noon, mommy said to tell you to get up, she said daddy wants to talk to you," she says as she opens a sketchbook and starts looking at the pictures.
"Molly, close that and go to your own room," I say as I pull the covers back over my head. I wait until I hear her leave before getting up and walking to my bathroom. I turn on the shower so it can get warm while I take a piss. I brush my teeth afterwards and throw my clothes off, I step under the warm spray and sink into myself.
Fifteen minutes later I get out and get dressed, snapping on the wrist cuff that holds extra blades to complete the outfit. I walk out of my room, on the hunt for food. I get to the kitchen and slow my steps when I see my dad sitting at the table with his back to me.
"Good morning," I say as I edge my way into the kitchen. I grab the orange juice and a muffin off the counter before sitting at the table with him. He looks up at me and stares at the bruise on my face, he is silent.
"Did your mother tell you I wanted to talk to you?" he asks finally. The paper he is reading is starting to tear a little where he is gripping it. I have a not so good feeling about this talk.
"No, she told Molly to tell me," I say quietly. "Why? What's wrong?" I squeak out and before I can take my next breath I see four of my sketchbooks come flying toward me, I did not even see where they came from. One comes to rest on the stove behind me, the other on the floor and two of them fall in front of me. One of them is open and I can see the nude pictures and the boys names scribbled on the paper.
My breath just stilled.
Thirty minutes later I am laying on the grass on the other side of the park, hidden from view and wiping the tears that flow from my eyes, trying desperately to slow my heart down and stop the quaking that is ripping through my body.
I close my eyes, searching for my sanity. I can still see the glass of orange juice as he threw it into the wall, streaks of orange ran down to the floor like they too were trying to escape. I can still see the shards of paper as they too ran from the fury, the madness. I lift my right arm in front of my face and remove a blade from the leather cuff.
"You are the biggest fucking disappointment in my life," he stated will a bitterness that stilled my heart.
I drag the blade along the length of my left arm pain management.
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