Troubles

Teachers' Lounge

When I walk out the school doors in a sea of hundreds of other students, one of the guys from the parking lot group is waiting for me. He grabs me by the shoulder, smiles condescendingly at me and then guids me out of the crowd by lightly pushing my shoulder that he's holding in an iron grip.

He brings me around a corner and over behind the gym, right next to the teachers' lounge. When he stops I frown and look confused through the windows to the lounge, and to my surprise, it's completely empty.

I turn my head and try to swallow down the fear that's suddenly lodged in my throat as I stare at the four guys sitting on the windows sills, grinning, but I can't get my throat to work right.

The guy who's still holding me by the shoulder tightens his grip and I automatically crumble to the ground in pain. Then, he suddenly lets go. I look up at the sound of footsteps coming closer and I see the leader taking one last drag of his cigarette before he throws it at me. I bow my head to avoid the bud hitting my face, and I stay that way in hopes of protecting myself from any attack, but nothing happens.

There's a long silence where no one even moves. My shoulder is throbbing. The sounds of student leaving the school's grounds and cars driving off is all I can hear for what seems like several minutes.

Why don't they just get it over with?!

The nervousness of when the first punch or kick or push is gonna hit me has me tensing up my every muscle and shaking like a leaf. My entire body is already aching, and they've barely even touched me yet.

“Get up.” The sudden break of silence makes me flinch, but that's all I do. I'm too terrified of getting up and facing these people. They could kill me, and even if they don't, I'll soon be in so much pain that I'll probably wish that they just would.
“Up!” he yells, making me jump. I can feel a lump forming in my throat, making my tear ducts tickle. I lift my head up and look at him. I almost lose my balance and support myself on the dirt with both my hands.
“Come on,” he says calmly, looking expectantly at me. I take in a deep, shaky breath.
“We're not gonna touch you if you don't get up and fight back,” he says maliciously, his voice calm, but his eyes radiating hate and resentment.

Right then, when he says that, all I want to do is stay on the ground and not make a single move, just to avoid whatever they have in mind for me, but if they don't aim it at me, they're gonna go after Gerard.

Just the thought of his name makes my stomach clench with a feeling I can't place. It's not pity, but not sympathy either – although, it might soon be.

I force myself to get up and do so in one, steady move. I let my hands hang slack by my sides and hunch my back. I know it's no use showing any mental strength. I don't have any, at the moment, anyways.

“Fight,” the leader says simply, smiling – almost friendly – and takes a step towards me. I automatically flinch and take a step back, but the guy who lead me here is quick to gently push a hand against my nape. I take a sudden breath.

The leader takes another step towards me and reaches a hand out towards me. His dirty fingers get so close to me that I can smell the cigarette smoke on his fingers, and it angers me briefly. And in that brief moment, I lose my grasp of the situation and slap his hand away, right before it reaches my face.

The leader smiles and then throws the first punch at my gut. And really, out of all the punches and kicks that are thrown at me for the following minutes, only that first punch am I able to register. All the other blows seem to blend together – I can't tell where that boot hit me or if that punch broke my skin.

But throughout the entire beating, I feel a sense of relief; for two reasons:

1. Gerard won't get hurt anymore, and:

2. The smell of spent cigarettes still remind me only of Gerard.
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Thank you all for all your support! =D