Xenon the Gothic•Emo

Chapter 1-Apologize by Hollywood Undead

I take one last look at myself in my full body mirror. I see my eyes have sunken in the last two years. All due to Eric Michael Carter and his bullying. My golden blonde hair that has a hint of red in it has gone dull, it's lost it's luster and shine. My dark brown eyes look more like crap than their normal chocolate. My 5' 2" 120 lb stature looked like it was shriveling.

I get to school, trying to make my way to my locker without being noticed. I look at my feet and listening to Hollywood Undead's American Tragedy album playing low so no one will notice me the whole time. I get to my locker, spin the dial combination in. "23-4-15," I thought as I got it right the first time.

"Look who it is! Xenon Knight," a voice lisps slightly. Out of the corner of my eye I see the source mock bow as his friends clap.

They wait for me to say something to retaliate. That's all they want. When they first started a few years ago I would retaliate with a very witty comeback; but after three years, it's near impossible to think of new, yet still witty, comebacks.

"What're you listening to now, goemo?" He says, yanking my headphones out of my ears as he calls me his nickname for gothic•emo people like me.

I act like he is one of my friends, even though I have none, and say, "American Tragedy album by Hollywood Undead. It's a great album. You should listen to it. You'd like how sinister they sound in Apologize," I said, trying to be honest.

"Really? How's that song go?" He says, snickering, thinking he's got me now.

"'We don't apologize, And that's just the way it is, But we can harmonize, Even if we sound like shit, Don't try to criticize, You bitches better plead the fifth, We've been idolized, Role models for all the kids.' And that's just he chorus of the song," I quoted from memory.

He stood there contemplating the lyrics, "Why exactly do you think I'd like that song?"

"Well, when you hear them singing, they sound more sinister than me while quoting. If you'd kindly give me my iPod, I could play it for you," I said trying to keep my disgust out of my voice. He handed it back, I unplugged the headphones and found it easily, seeing as I was listening to the album the song was on. I played it, and the look on his face was unreadable.

"You're right, they do sound more sinister than you," he sneered. "You're just a weak," he grabbed my left arm, "pathetic," he shoved my jacket sleeve up, "cutter," seeing the scabs, scars, and fresh bandage on my forearm.

He ripped the bandage off. I winced at the pain of the harsh removal of the adhesive surface from my skin. And because I didn't cry out in pain, he dug his right thumb into the fresh wound, forcing me to gasp in pain. He dug his thumb into the wound, splitting the thin scab and stretching it so it tore and elongated the wound. He dropped my arm roughly, smirked at me and walked the other way as I collapsed in front of my locker from the pain that radiated all the way up my arm and down to my toes.

"Xenon? Are you okay?" I heard another male voice.

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Dedicated to LostSoulxx for the amazing cover! Thank you so much. That is now TWO book covers you have created for me that I absolutely love! Thank you, thank you. If I were to meet you today, I would hug you! Thank you!! <3