The Long Run (BoyxBoy-teacher/student) *Completed*

Chapter 8

[Chapter 8]

“That’s my boy.” My father whispers, his lips grazing over my ear, his breath tinging my nose. He laughs at nothing in particular as he reaches into his side pocket.

I watch in utter and complete silence as he pulls out something and it glitters in the dim light. A blade. My throat closes up and I find it hard to breathe when he pulls it closer to my face. It’s so close that I can feel the prick before it even touches me.

“It’s a beauty isn’t it?” Dad rolls it around in his fingers, “Got it just today actually, shame it’ll be getting dirty already.”

Without any sign my shirt’s pulled over my head and used to tie my hands behind my back tightly. I struggle against his grip as he traces every muscle in my arm and stomach. He presses the tip in deeper, enough to draw blood and leave a scar but not enough to need stitches. I groan in pain and grind my teeth together.

I rock slightly to distract myself from my pain and roll my head back to look at the roof. My face creases as he continues, the pain overpowering everything. Everything but the sheer anger towards my ‘friends’. It’s their fault I’m in this situation. It’s their fault I’m being cut up like a no good animal. The anger quickly drains away, becoming nothing more than disappointment. It’s my fault. I should have seen that they didn’t really love me.

“Now everyone can see that you’re worthless.” My dad says, moving back to appreciate his handy work. “Nothing.”

My eyes close as my dad leaves the room, the door slamming behind him. I lay there, my muscles slowly going numb. I force my eyes open before I can fully fall asleep and with difficulty I shuffle my hands from the make shift cuffs. My shirt falls away and I roll over onto my stomach, crying out in pain as more glass pierces my skin.

My mouth falls open, trying to breathe through the twinging pain. For a second later I lay there before carefully getting to my feet. Luckily my feet are glass free. I leisurely walk into the bathroom, body dazed.

It feels like hours before I finally reach the small vanilla scented room. Using my hands I support my body against the sink. I keep my eyes tightly shut, petrifying what will be in front of me. I catch my breath and gradually open my eyes.

Nothing.

It’s backwards in the mirror but there’s no denying that’s what it says, stained red against my skin. Drops of blood roll down the bottom of every letter and disappear into the material of my pants. I shake my head and turn away, head in my hands. I want to cry but my eyes are too dry, throat too sore, pain too great.

I switch the shower on and without caring how warm… or how cold, I get in under the large spray of water. It caresses my skin as a mother does a child. My eyes close and I relax my body. I hadn’t bothered to strip from my pants, I’m throwing them out anyway.

Without thinking too much about it I reach my hands back and use the shower mirror to seek the pieces of glass sticking from my skin like sores. One by one I pull them each out, a stream of blood following moments later. I try to cry out but no sound leaves my lips.

When I’m sure they’re all gone my arms fall back to my side and a heavy weight forces my shoulders to sink. Shortly after my whole body follows and I fall onto the bottom of the shower, curling into myself on my side. I close my eyes and let the coldness of my body rock me to sleep, red water running around me and down the drain. What’s left of my heart following.

~@~

It’s the warmness that wakes me. It heats up my body slowly but then changes to a fierce burning. My eyes snap open and I flip myself out of the shower, my hands running over my body for signs of damage while my mind clears up where I am.