Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Beat Downs are a Common Thing
3 reviewsA five foot five sophomore with hardly any muscle tone up against a six foot jealous boyfriend with a mean right hook and steel toed boots, I must have been delusional.
0Unrated
Author's note: I was inspired by Pencey Prep's song "Eighth Grade."
The sting of cool water against my lip caused me to flinch as I washed the blood and dirt off my face. “If this keeps up it’s never going to heal,” I whispered to myself. My reflection in the dingy mirror was much to be desired; dark brown hair wet with sweat and stray water from the sink, a purple bruise growing steadily darker around my left eye, and two trails of blood, one running from my nose and the other from my broken bottom lip. I should know better by now, but apparently Brandon Fletcher’s daily smack downs haven’t taught me the lesson that I need. All day I had been steering clear of Brandon, but that didn’t keep him from finding me in the boy’s room and nearly cracking my skull against a urinal.
It was five minutes after the last bell, the halls nearly deserted, when I ducked into the bathroom. Normally I would have been out of there by that time, but my best friend, Mikey, had to stay after to make up a test, so my ride wouldn’t be ready to roll for another twenty minutes. It was the perfect time for me to drain the lizard before heading over to the Communications teacher’s classroom to goof off with the anime geeks and try to get Sora passed that hard as hell Nightmare Before Christmas level. I never made it though, because Brandon Fletcher sauntered into the bathroom and checked to see if anyone was taking a crap in one of the stalls before grabbing me and bashing my head on the urinal’s pee stained porcelain. The only thing I could think about was, ‘thank god he gave me enough time to zip back up,’ as he pulled me back so he could deliver a punch to my left eye. I fell to the smelly tile, clutching my face and bracing myself so that when Brandon’s foot connected with my ribs it didn’t hurt as much as it could have.
“Johnny spotted you staring again.” Another kick, this time to the gut. “I can’t have you ogling my girl’s tits, now can I Frank.” I shook my head vigorously and squeezed my eyes tight as he kicked me one last time.
It took a little while for the pain in my torso to subside enough for me to get up and splash some water on my face after Brandon left me cowering in a fetal position on the floor. “Pathetic Frankie, just pathetic,” I mumble into the sink. I really wanted to stand up to him, but I was too small and scared. The first time he kicked my ass I tried to fight back, but I ended up with a dislocated shoulder for god sakes! A five foot five sophomore with hardly any muscle tone up against a six foot jealous boyfriend with a mean right hook and steel toed boots, I must have been delusional.
With a pained grimace plastered on my face I took my backpack and started the familiar trek to the nurse’s station.
The sting of cool water against my lip caused me to flinch as I washed the blood and dirt off my face. “If this keeps up it’s never going to heal,” I whispered to myself. My reflection in the dingy mirror was much to be desired; dark brown hair wet with sweat and stray water from the sink, a purple bruise growing steadily darker around my left eye, and two trails of blood, one running from my nose and the other from my broken bottom lip. I should know better by now, but apparently Brandon Fletcher’s daily smack downs haven’t taught me the lesson that I need. All day I had been steering clear of Brandon, but that didn’t keep him from finding me in the boy’s room and nearly cracking my skull against a urinal.
It was five minutes after the last bell, the halls nearly deserted, when I ducked into the bathroom. Normally I would have been out of there by that time, but my best friend, Mikey, had to stay after to make up a test, so my ride wouldn’t be ready to roll for another twenty minutes. It was the perfect time for me to drain the lizard before heading over to the Communications teacher’s classroom to goof off with the anime geeks and try to get Sora passed that hard as hell Nightmare Before Christmas level. I never made it though, because Brandon Fletcher sauntered into the bathroom and checked to see if anyone was taking a crap in one of the stalls before grabbing me and bashing my head on the urinal’s pee stained porcelain. The only thing I could think about was, ‘thank god he gave me enough time to zip back up,’ as he pulled me back so he could deliver a punch to my left eye. I fell to the smelly tile, clutching my face and bracing myself so that when Brandon’s foot connected with my ribs it didn’t hurt as much as it could have.
“Johnny spotted you staring again.” Another kick, this time to the gut. “I can’t have you ogling my girl’s tits, now can I Frank.” I shook my head vigorously and squeezed my eyes tight as he kicked me one last time.
It took a little while for the pain in my torso to subside enough for me to get up and splash some water on my face after Brandon left me cowering in a fetal position on the floor. “Pathetic Frankie, just pathetic,” I mumble into the sink. I really wanted to stand up to him, but I was too small and scared. The first time he kicked my ass I tried to fight back, but I ended up with a dislocated shoulder for god sakes! A five foot five sophomore with hardly any muscle tone up against a six foot jealous boyfriend with a mean right hook and steel toed boots, I must have been delusional.
With a pained grimace plastered on my face I took my backpack and started the familiar trek to the nurse’s station.
Sign up to rate and review this story