God's Image Reflected in Your Eyes

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed around the hallway. The lockers gloomed over the gang of boys, as they laughed and jeered.

Gerard winced as they pounced on their defenseless pray once again.

It let out a moan of despair when it’s head smashed against a scratched locker door.

Gerard watched, fascinated as red spread out from amongst the messy, coal black hair that decorated the cracked skull.

The attackers seemed to take in the scene of body fluid, staining the cheap flooring, before making a hasty retreat.

Long after the sounds of their panicked footsteps ceased, Gerard stepped out of his place among the shadows.

His shoes squeaked on the polished surface before they came to a stop on the borders of where the blood was soaked into the floor.

Gerard bent down to get a closer look at the beaten pulp that lay defeated in a strange poetic way.

The boys face was deathly pale and contrasted greatly with the black hair that fell across his features, and was now matted from the clotting blood.

Against his usual policy, Gerard moved his hand to the back of the child’s head.

He winced at the warm, sticky liquid which quickly covered his flesh but his face broke out into a satisfied smirk as Gerard felt the skulls fibers reconnect, making a sick crunch, closely followed by the wounded skin itself.

Proud at his good deed, Gerard retracted his hand, wiped it on the kid’s jeans and then stood up.

He took one final look at the tragic scene before he walked down the abandoned corridor, his long leather jacket swaying with his movement.