"Loser"

"Fag"

"Ugly"

The words of fellow school mates, bellowed in my head. I just dropped my head to the floor, trying to look elsewhere then at the glaring, pissed off faces.

All of a sudden, my face smashed against the pavement. A shooting pain appeared in my head, I winced and rubbed at it.

"Whoops, sorry. I didn't see you there.. loser." A smirking male said, before walking away.

I pulled myself off the pavement, continuing my walk towards home. I didn't want to go home, I knew once I did.. I'd be beat by my excuse of a mother, then yelled at for my grades dropping.

The sudden recognition of my house, made my heart beat rapidly in my chest, my hands got sweaty, and I felt myself beginning to shake in fear. I reached for the handle, and was about to turn it when it opened up from the inside, and I was yanked inside.

"You worthless piece of shit, you're two minutes late! Where were you?" The angry shouts of my mother asked.

"I-I fell, I-I'm sorry." I stutter out, my eyes wide.

"I don't care about your clumsy ass, maybe I should punish you for it." She snarls, with a smirk.

"N-no! Please d-don't." I beg, as I begin to back away from her.

"Oh shut up, you deserve it anywhere. I hate to call your pathetic being my son!" She yelled back.

I flinched away, hitting my back against the counter. There was nowhere else to go, leaving me trapped at the hands of my mother.

"Please don't." I beg, she ignores me and her fist comes in contact with my stomach, making me groan in pain.

The next ten minutes, but what feels like a lifetime goes by. Finally, she throws me to the ground and walks away into the living room. I whimper, and try and pull my beaten, bruised and bloody body off the floor. I fail the first time but, on the second I manage to pull myself up, and limp down to the basement, actually known as my bedroom.

I walk over to the broken mirror, peering through it at my bloody face. I remember a time, I had friends and people actually commented me on how handsome I was. It was all before, my father left the family for some rat faced, slut and her two children. In anger, my mother moved us here to Wilsbank and turned to alcohol to drain her anger, and depression towards my father's departure.

It was when I started going to Banks High, that I started getting bullied. Every negative, hurtful, word carved into my heart, making me hate myself more and more.

Instead of what people at my old school called "handsome", I saw a ugly, beaten, pathetic excuse for a human. I angrily grabbed at the old, ratted washcloth sitting on the stool. I dip it in the water, ringing it out before bringing it to my face, making me wince and whimper out in pain at the contact. After a couple painful minutes go by, the blood is off my face. I strip off my bloodies clothes, tossing them into the washer behind me. I pulled a long sleeved grey shirt, and a black pair of short over my chilled body. I limp over to my bed, which was the only good thing I had, besides a small phone my father had bought me before he abandoned us.

The only escape I had was my music, and reading books to pass the time away. I pulled the phone that was hidden in my mattress, and turned it on. I quickly glanced up, to make sure my door way shut and the phone was hidden from my mother. She would literally kill me, if she saw I had a phone. I also pulled out the old, dirty, headphones I had found on the school playground, sneaking them into my pockets.

I plug them in, turning the brightness level down on the phone, and start my playlist. The familiar beat of my music, bursts through my headphones, making me a bit happier. I then, pulled up my online reading app, and scrolled through, enjoying each word.

After a couple hours, it was time for me to sleep. I made myself a turkey sandwich, from where the ingredients were stashed behind the old, squeaky, staircase. I then, turned the light off.. and limped over to the bed, where my head hit the pillow. I could finally drift away into a world of good dreams and future ambitions.