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High School Hell - Mikey's First Day


As I stalked hurriedly down the clinical corridor of Hell (or high school, as adults like to call it), I couldn't help but worry. Mikey was innocent. Mikey was sweet. Mikey was shy. Mikey was quiet. Mikey was nervous. Mikey was anxious. Mikey was Mikey and Mikey was no where near ready for his first day at high school.
I had voiced my perfectly justified concerns to both Frank and Ray, but they had both just told me I was being too over-protective of my fragile baby brother. But as all three of us walked down the corridors to collect Mikey from his chemistry class to take him to lunch as we had arranged, I knew that they felt the fear too.
We went up to his classroom to see that it was completely empty apart from an already exhausted looking teacher. Mikey was no where to be seen.
"Are you sure he had chem, Gee?" Frank questioned after looking around for any sign of the pale and skinny teen.
"Positive."
I fought the the strong urge to panic. I wouldn't, no, couldn't let Mikes get hurt. Never. It just wasn't even an option in my mind.
"Hey! Toro!" I heard a deep, yet youthful, voice call out from behind us.
"Bob!" Ray greeted the teddy-bear-resembling blonde enthusiastically, exchanging a high five with Bob, another one of our group.
"Looking for Mikey?" He asked nervously, his previously happy mood dropping instanttly, sounding as if he knew something.
"Where is he?!" I all but begged, taking Bob's facial expression and tone of voice to be a bad sign.
"Boys' loos, last cubicle on the left. I heard him crying in there, but he wouldn't talk to me. Just kept crying and sobbing. And..." He paused, looking as terrified of my reaction as I was of what he was about to say. "And I think I saw blood on the floor of his cubicle."
I shot off like a machine gun's deadly ammo towards where my, possibly hurt, baby brother was. The baby brother I had vowed to protect. Fuck, I loved that kid more than anything; he was so good-natured and shy, the very thought of him being upset was enough to send me into an uncontrolable rage with whoever had hurt him, but not before I had fixed my beloved baby bro, my Mikey.
I sharply turned into the boy's restroom, not caring that I nearly took out the principal in the process.
The grotty, grey room that wreaked of piss and cum was deserted, but eerily so. Like the air particles knew that something bad was happening and so refused to grant me enough oxygen to slow my panicked breathing.
"Mikes, you in here?" I called softly into the piss-poor excuse for a restroom. I waited for a few seconds in agonizing expectance before a heard the door on the far left click open.
"Gee?" A very scared, broken voice squeaked in a tone that was thick with tears. I turned to face the heart-breaking and heart-broken voice.
Jesus fucking Christ. Mikey was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot with his cyanide-like tears and the skin surrounding his youthful portals of vision were black due to their impact with some bastard's fist. Both his mouth and nose looked completely busted; his precious crimson life force trickling steadily form both delicate features.
I felt my aching heart break for the kid. He'd been so happy about coming to high school with me and now he looked so crushed, like he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.
"Mikes, c'mere," I sighed helplessly, holding back my own tears for his sake. He always said it made him feel horribly hopeless whenever I cried; like my happiness was all that he cared about. Which is why I know he is the best little brother I could ever wish for.
I stepped slowly towards him, so as not to startle him in his heightened state of anxiety, and pulled him into me for a gentle, soothing hug. Even that made him flinch in putrid pain.
"Mikes, what the fuck happened?" I asked as I swayed us back and forth in an effort to comfort away the tears that were soaking through my Black Flag t-shirt.
"The-ey call-led me a-a fag and-nd a freak and th-ey woul-ouldn't-t sto-top kick-icking-ing me!" He sobbed, clinging onto me as though I could prevent anymore bad things from ever happening to him again.
I would have sold my soul, still would, for that to be so. But that day had proved that to be impossible. No matter how hard I tried to protect him, they'd always be others trying equally as hard to hurt him.
"Who did this to, baby bro?" I whispered into his dark-sandy hair, using the most caring term I could think of to refer to him as in an effort to soothe and calm his battered spirit.
"Dun-nno," he wept at the injustice of being beaten up people that didn't even know him. I kissed his forehead, feeling his tears increase once more.
"C'mon, let's get you home. I'll take care of you Mikes." I smiled warmly down at him, seeing him finally dare to grin meekly up at me, the thought of me looking after him removing some of his putrid pain from his, once naive and innocent, eyes.
I made a silent vow there and then; I may not always be able to protect him from life but, no matter what, I'll always be there to help him through it, to pick up the pieces.
I'm his big brother after all, it's what I do.






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