Sleeptember

On the list of things that Ryker hated most, school was number two, right behind Axel. He was actually a smart kid, but he had given up on anything relating to school. Other students were harsh. They always to pick on him, stuffing him in lockers, throwing him in dumbsters (the dumbster behind the school seemed to be his second home), and tripping him in the halls, every single chance they got. And as for the teachers, even if he did do his homework, he would never be able to satisfy the teachers enough to get good grades. They hated him.

School sucked, but he had to go. He didn't talk with people much. He just walked into the building, went straight to his locker, grabbed his books, and walked straight to the class. This was where everything usually went wrong though.

"Thomas, where you going?"

"Shit...." Ryker muttered. He froze and cringed, knowing what was about to happen. A hand clapped on his shoulder, squeezing it hard. No question, he was going to have bruisses there, but that wasn't what he was worried about. Five boys came in from of him, each smiling and grinning in their own twisted way. The leader of them all, Frank Richards, had the biggest grin on his face and even sparkling brown eyes to match. Ryker couldn't understand how someone could take so much pleasure in beating the crap out of people. Frank's jet black hair stuck up in random places and he had a ripped up 'My Chemical Romance' tee-shirt on, black pants with boots to match. He had three lip peircings, two on the lower lip, one on the top. He also had a peircing on his left eyebrow. When Frank looked this happy, Ryker knew he was in trouble.

"What's it going to be today?" Frank asked, in fake thought as he looked up at the ceiling, circling Ryker like a shark. "Locker? Dumpster? Just an old fashioned beating?" Frank stopped in front of him. "Let's try something new." He grinned.

Frank suddenly punched him in the gut, causing Ryker to double over in pain. the other four of Frank's followers lifting him into the air. Frank came from underneath and punch him again. Ryker cried out. They carried Ryker out a back door and threw him on the ground. They were in the backalley. The few cars back there were parked randomly throughout. A wire fence lined the area. Ryker hit the concrete hard, knocking the breath out of him. "Strip him," Frank ordered. Four boys came down, attacking Ryker, pulling off his pants, ripping off his shirt, adding a few punches to the face in there just to make things more interesting. By the time they backed off, Ryker was stripped down to his underwear and socks with blood dripping from his nose, lip, and various scratches on his face. He couldn't move now. Everything was weak.

Frank walked over to the bushes, bending down and pulling out rope. He threw it to one of his buddies. "Tie him up," He ordered, clenching his jaw as he glared at Ryker. "High too." One of the boys caught the rope and stretched it out. It must have been ten feet. Ryker closed his eyes, fighting against the pain that dispersed through her body. The boys yanked him up and threw him against the fence. Ryker just hung there, pretending he could feel nothing although he felt everything. Every swing at the jaw, punch at the stomach, kick to his crotch. He felt nauseous from all the pain.

Soon, he was tied to the fence, hanging by his wrists and attached by his ankles. Frank walked up to Ryker, pulling out a pocket knife and flipping it open, a grin cracking across his face. He put the knife tip up against Ryker's neck, digging into his skin. "How do you feel, Thomas?" Frank growled, moving the knife blade from Ryker's throat to his cheek. Then he swiped. Ryker felt the sting of the dirty blade slashing his skin and the warm blood start to flow. "See you tomorrow, Thomas."