Not A Soul
Kellin.
“He's really tired, Benny. We had hot, amazing sex all last night.”
I shove the boy against the locker. The loud ‘bang’ of his head connecting with the metal echoes through out the hall. A few people look, but none dare say a thing about the abuse I sent the kids way, whoever he is.
Curt scowls and I can tell he wants to say something, that he wants stand up for his little friend, but the glare I shoot at him has him trembling just like the others. I push my way past his group and continue my path to the school roof top.
When I reach it I slam my back against the cement and pull out a cigarette, one that I quickly light and press between my lips. I inhale the toxic fumes that once burned my lungs, but now feels so welcomed. I exhale and watch the gray smoke circle around me and ascend into the sky.
I flip the cancer stick between my fingers before taking another drag and another and another until there’s a loud bang from my side. The noise catches my attention and I expect to see an angry student or a teacher, but instead I see Curt stomping my way.
He looks a bit angry and hurt, but I roll my eyes and ignore those thoughts.
“The hell?” He screams and he dares to try to shove me. Out of reaction I reach out and twist his wrist easily, enough to at least sprain it. Curt yelps in pain and I use the position to push him to his knees.
He looks so weak kneeling in front of me, but than again he looks weak to me either way. Curt’s eyes fill with pain and I can only guess that it’s not just from the grip I have on his wrist. I notice the bandage on his hand and a part of me says to ask what happened, but a larger part spits at me.
Who cares!
“What the hell makes you think you can touch me?” I scold, kicking him in the chest to force him to the ground. I didn’t use a lot of force, because it wasn’t needed. He was already frightened and easily fell to the ground. “Try that again and next time I’ll break your fucking wrist, and that’s a promise.”
Curt’s eyes are wide and I can see the confusion, fear, and questions. I can’t blame him. I bet he thought one day I’d return, the same boy I was back then and sometimes I wish I still was that boy, so naïve and oblivious to the world around him. But it’s too late.
I’ve seen and been through enough shit that it’s turned me into this. Whatever this is.
“What…what’s happened to you?” Curt manages to sputter out in shock. He scoots away from me, far enough so that if I reached out I wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You’re…”
“Different,” I finish for him and scoff. Taking another hit from my cigarette I spit the smoke at him. He coughs and desperately tries swatting it away. “Yeah, that seems to happen to people. Get fucking use it.”
I flick the fag to the ground and crush it beneath my feet. Curt watches and continues staring at the object as I walk pass him with my hands in my pockets. Opening the door, I give Curt one last glance to see he’s turned to face me.
For a second I think he’s going to try talking again, that he’s going to try and ask me what’s wrong, what’s happened, and if I’ll ever be the same. I wait because a part of me wants him to, but then I realize that saying that makes me seem like I want to be friends with him.
I scoff and slam the door shut. I leave him on that roof top to do as he wishes and make my way to my next class, silently praying to whatever being is listening that he and I don’t continue to cross paths like this. It’s really starting to piss me off.
~
The fist that makes contact with my gut knocks the wind out of me. I stumble backwards and towards the floor. His arm crushes my wind pipe and has me choking, gasping for air, only to have it knocked right back out of me by another fist pushing itself into my stomach.
I keep myself from making any sounds of pain, because if I do that’ll only make me sound weak. I use all the energy I have to glare at him, the monster above me that I have to admit is my father. He doesn’t seem happy with the fact that I’m silent so he goes to knee me, but I grab said knee and toss him off me.
Using his stunned shock as a form of escape I bolt out the front door. Huffing and puffing I found myself at the park once more. I take a seat on my swing and bite my lip to keep myself from groaning at the pain shooting through my stomach.
He’s back again and I can only guess at how long he’ll stay this time. I’m hoping not long. I don’t need the stress from himand Curt.
I shove the boy against the locker. The loud ‘bang’ of his head connecting with the metal echoes through out the hall. A few people look, but none dare say a thing about the abuse I sent the kids way, whoever he is.
Curt scowls and I can tell he wants to say something, that he wants stand up for his little friend, but the glare I shoot at him has him trembling just like the others. I push my way past his group and continue my path to the school roof top.
When I reach it I slam my back against the cement and pull out a cigarette, one that I quickly light and press between my lips. I inhale the toxic fumes that once burned my lungs, but now feels so welcomed. I exhale and watch the gray smoke circle around me and ascend into the sky.
I flip the cancer stick between my fingers before taking another drag and another and another until there’s a loud bang from my side. The noise catches my attention and I expect to see an angry student or a teacher, but instead I see Curt stomping my way.
He looks a bit angry and hurt, but I roll my eyes and ignore those thoughts.
“The hell?” He screams and he dares to try to shove me. Out of reaction I reach out and twist his wrist easily, enough to at least sprain it. Curt yelps in pain and I use the position to push him to his knees.
He looks so weak kneeling in front of me, but than again he looks weak to me either way. Curt’s eyes fill with pain and I can only guess that it’s not just from the grip I have on his wrist. I notice the bandage on his hand and a part of me says to ask what happened, but a larger part spits at me.
Who cares!
“What the hell makes you think you can touch me?” I scold, kicking him in the chest to force him to the ground. I didn’t use a lot of force, because it wasn’t needed. He was already frightened and easily fell to the ground. “Try that again and next time I’ll break your fucking wrist, and that’s a promise.”
Curt’s eyes are wide and I can see the confusion, fear, and questions. I can’t blame him. I bet he thought one day I’d return, the same boy I was back then and sometimes I wish I still was that boy, so naïve and oblivious to the world around him. But it’s too late.
I’ve seen and been through enough shit that it’s turned me into this. Whatever this is.
“What…what’s happened to you?” Curt manages to sputter out in shock. He scoots away from me, far enough so that if I reached out I wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You’re…”
“Different,” I finish for him and scoff. Taking another hit from my cigarette I spit the smoke at him. He coughs and desperately tries swatting it away. “Yeah, that seems to happen to people. Get fucking use it.”
I flick the fag to the ground and crush it beneath my feet. Curt watches and continues staring at the object as I walk pass him with my hands in my pockets. Opening the door, I give Curt one last glance to see he’s turned to face me.
For a second I think he’s going to try talking again, that he’s going to try and ask me what’s wrong, what’s happened, and if I’ll ever be the same. I wait because a part of me wants him to, but then I realize that saying that makes me seem like I want to be friends with him.
I scoff and slam the door shut. I leave him on that roof top to do as he wishes and make my way to my next class, silently praying to whatever being is listening that he and I don’t continue to cross paths like this. It’s really starting to piss me off.
~
The fist that makes contact with my gut knocks the wind out of me. I stumble backwards and towards the floor. His arm crushes my wind pipe and has me choking, gasping for air, only to have it knocked right back out of me by another fist pushing itself into my stomach.
I keep myself from making any sounds of pain, because if I do that’ll only make me sound weak. I use all the energy I have to glare at him, the monster above me that I have to admit is my father. He doesn’t seem happy with the fact that I’m silent so he goes to knee me, but I grab said knee and toss him off me.
Using his stunned shock as a form of escape I bolt out the front door. Huffing and puffing I found myself at the park once more. I take a seat on my swing and bite my lip to keep myself from groaning at the pain shooting through my stomach.
He’s back again and I can only guess at how long he’ll stay this time. I’m hoping not long. I don’t need the stress from himand Curt.
♠ ♠ ♠
Uh oh is Kellin jealous?But he's being so mean to Curtie!
Poor Curtie D=
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