God's Image Reflected in Your Eyes

Frank hissed as the light penetrated his sensitive eyes. Pain washed over him like a tsunami and Frank let out an involuntary groan.

Memories of what happened to him flashed in his mind.
Punches.
Kicks.
Lockers.
Pain.
Blood.

He frantically moved his hand to stare at the clotting blood that was staining his flesh. Panicking he grabbed the back of his head and searched for a wound.
Apart from a killer headache, he felt no pain but brought his hand back for further inspection.

He scrunched up his face in confusion, as he found no fresh blood standing out from the dried substance. He desperately tried to think back, and that earned another groan, as his headache seemed to worsen.

Frank eventually came to the conclusion that he had imagined the sick crack when his head connected with the smooth metal, the blow must have knocked him unconscious and that the blood was… well he couldn’t explain that one.

But so many things had happened that he couldn’t explain, and he was going to treat this event like all of the others. With a strong case of denial.

Deciding that the best thing to do was to go home and forget everything, he warily sat up against the lockers, ignoring his body’s protests.

He grimaced when his hand slipped in blood, but continued nonetheless. Finally Frank had made it up, and only needed to support himself using one hand.

He carefully glanced around; making sure nobody was in sight.

Frank extended his free hand, aimed at the blood, which was covering the floor and scrunched up his face as he began to concentrate. Sure enough, he felt freezing cold water dribble down his hand.

He tried to further steady his mind and ended up closing his eyes. A steady jet of water soon replaced the dribble and Frank gasped as he felt a strange feeling come over him.

The water became stained with red as it ran down the hall. Frank moved his hand upwards in a swift movement and the small stream, rose into the air.

The throbbing pain in Frank’s head screamed for him to stop but he was determined. The water was guided to a nearby water fountain and slowly it snaked down the metal tunnel.

When Frank opened his eyes again he could see purple spots, the feeling of dizziness took a grip on him and Frank swayed back and before, trying to regain the balance in his head.

After a few frightening moments, Frank limped down the dark corridor, scrunching his face up as the stench of blood and disinfectant floated through the air.

After an agonizing journey, he made it to the school gates but as Frank started to walk along the sidewalk, he felt something land on his head. He paused and looked up at the darkened sky, only letting out a small sigh when another droplet of water fell onto his cheek and rolled onto the floor.

He pulled his thin jacket closer to him and attempted to pick up the pace even though he found it painful.

His efforts had been in vain however, due to when he arrived at his beaten down home he was drenched. The heavens seemed to have opened up and Frank had watched with interest as the drains began to spit back water, flooding the roads.

Pushing his key into the rusty lock, Frank winced when the door let out a high-pitched squeal. He placed his messenger bag on the worn down carpet and listening carefully.

There was no noise to be heard, no heavy snores, neither laughter of television nor the creak of floorboards.

It was not home.

Frank let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding and picked up his sodden bag.

He dragged himself up stairs and into his small room. A bang bounced around the empty house as Frank’s bag hit the floor and he collapsed onto his unmade bed.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he felt the consequences of the beating kick in. His muscles ached and his bruises burnt against his damp clothing.

Frank blew upward, making his long fringe shoot up in random directions, the small action caused him to smile a little, however the ghost of happiness faded with a simple slam of a door.

He knew it was inevitable, but as he closed his eyes he could pretend that it was just the wind.

He could pretend that he was waiting for his mother and father to come home and take him out somewhere, he could pretend that the heavy footsteps he heard belonged to his friendly next-door neighbor, he could pretend that his bedroom door was opening because of his loyal dog.

But when cold hands grabbed him by the collar, he knew that his imagination was not going to get him out of this one.

So Frank cautiously opening his bruised eyes and stared into the piercing green pupils that were so alike to his own.

”You got the floor all wet, freak” The smell of alcohol make Frank shiver and he swallowed the lump that was stuck in his throat.

”I’m sorry,” he whispered.

”No you’re not – but you goddamn will be” came the snarled reply.

The tear that made its way down Frank’s cheek was warm and made his cold flesh sting.

”This is for being a fucking freak against nature, just like your damn whore of a mother!”