I Hate You, Jason Lawrence
Prologue
Prologue
"Abby, honey, why don’t you go play on the swings?"
I look up at my mother, young and beautiful, and the kindest woman in the world. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she stared down at me, brushing a blonde curl out of my eyes.
I grinned and nodded, my ponytail swinging from side to side, before turning around and running towards the swing set. An older boy and girl were already seated on the far left and middle swings, so I went for the right swing, climbing into it awkwardly.
My small feet kicked the dirt below me, causing big dust clouds to puff up as I tried my hardest to push myself on the swing. The tips of my tennis shoes, pointed and stretched out, barely touched the dirt, though, so it was a slow process.
I had just gotten the swing into a rhythm when it suddenly stopped, and I lunged forward, nearly falling off.
"Gimme that swing," a familiar voice said, and I peered up at the tall, plump seven-year-old that had stopped my swing so abruptly. He stood behind me, a little to my left, his chubby fingers wrapped around the chain, pulling me slightly towards him.
I turned away form him, my heart dropping a little at the sight of him.
"Leave me alone, Jason," I said, my voice quiet and shaky. I looked over at my mother, hoping that for once, she would see Jason picking on me. But, as usual, he'd waited until she was chatting happily with his mother, her best friend, before coming to pester me.
Jason was silent for a long moment, and I glanced up at him quickly, only to see his gray eyes glowering at me, with such hate and ferocity that it sent chills down my spine. Suddenly, he jerked the swing closer to him, and my tiny fists tightened around the chains so I wouldn't fall off. "I said," he hissed, his voice low, and his face merely inches from mine. "Give me the swing."
I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that were stinging my eyes and threatening to spill down my cheeks. Fear had gripped me, and I decided that arguing with the plump boy would only make things worse. So I hopped off of the swing slowly with my head down, avoiding his gaze. But as soon as my feet were planted firmly on the ground, I felt a heavy force suddenly hit the middle of my back, followed by a sharp pain, and I toppled forward, hitting the ground hard.
"Next time I tell you to do something," Jason sneered, and I looked up at him through blurred vision as the tears finally started pouring. "You better do it."
I didn't say anything. I pulled myself up, brushing the dirt off of my clothes, and wiped the tears from my face. When I reached my mother to tell her that I wanted to go home, she asked me what happened, if I was okay, but I didn't dare tell her the truth. There was no telling what Jason would do if I got him in trouble. So I sucked it up, told her I fell off of the swing, and let her hug me tight and kiss away my scratches, knowing this was how it would always be. Jason Lawrence would always be a bully, and I would always hate him, with every fiber of my being.
"Abby, honey, why don’t you go play on the swings?"
I look up at my mother, young and beautiful, and the kindest woman in the world. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she stared down at me, brushing a blonde curl out of my eyes.
I grinned and nodded, my ponytail swinging from side to side, before turning around and running towards the swing set. An older boy and girl were already seated on the far left and middle swings, so I went for the right swing, climbing into it awkwardly.
My small feet kicked the dirt below me, causing big dust clouds to puff up as I tried my hardest to push myself on the swing. The tips of my tennis shoes, pointed and stretched out, barely touched the dirt, though, so it was a slow process.
I had just gotten the swing into a rhythm when it suddenly stopped, and I lunged forward, nearly falling off.
"Gimme that swing," a familiar voice said, and I peered up at the tall, plump seven-year-old that had stopped my swing so abruptly. He stood behind me, a little to my left, his chubby fingers wrapped around the chain, pulling me slightly towards him.
I turned away form him, my heart dropping a little at the sight of him.
"Leave me alone, Jason," I said, my voice quiet and shaky. I looked over at my mother, hoping that for once, she would see Jason picking on me. But, as usual, he'd waited until she was chatting happily with his mother, her best friend, before coming to pester me.
Jason was silent for a long moment, and I glanced up at him quickly, only to see his gray eyes glowering at me, with such hate and ferocity that it sent chills down my spine. Suddenly, he jerked the swing closer to him, and my tiny fists tightened around the chains so I wouldn't fall off. "I said," he hissed, his voice low, and his face merely inches from mine. "Give me the swing."
I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that were stinging my eyes and threatening to spill down my cheeks. Fear had gripped me, and I decided that arguing with the plump boy would only make things worse. So I hopped off of the swing slowly with my head down, avoiding his gaze. But as soon as my feet were planted firmly on the ground, I felt a heavy force suddenly hit the middle of my back, followed by a sharp pain, and I toppled forward, hitting the ground hard.
"Next time I tell you to do something," Jason sneered, and I looked up at him through blurred vision as the tears finally started pouring. "You better do it."
I didn't say anything. I pulled myself up, brushing the dirt off of my clothes, and wiped the tears from my face. When I reached my mother to tell her that I wanted to go home, she asked me what happened, if I was okay, but I didn't dare tell her the truth. There was no telling what Jason would do if I got him in trouble. So I sucked it up, told her I fell off of the swing, and let her hug me tight and kiss away my scratches, knowing this was how it would always be. Jason Lawrence would always be a bully, and I would always hate him, with every fiber of my being.