Hated (Complete)

Chapter 8

Just as I got to my locker, I saw Cartman. It's bad enough that almost everyone makes fun of me, but Cartman was generally worse.

"Hey, faggy spaz," he greeted with a evil smile.

"H-hi..." I barely whispered.

"How's your day been?" He continued before I could answer, "It's not like anyone cares about what you feel, anyway. No one likes you, you're a freak, but you already know that you ruin your parents lives."

I stared at him. Don't cry. That's what he wants. He took a step closer to me. I tried to step back, but he grabbed my shirt collar, "Where do you think you're going?" He began to punch me over and over again in varying places. And as usual, no one batted an eye. Some people stopped to watch, to give sympathetic looks, but no assistance.

Cartman continued, as people left to catch their bus. At least I walk home...

Eventually, he go tired when I was curled up on the floor bleeding, "Freak." Then, he left me there.

A moment later I got up. It hurt my stomach, where a majority of the blows landed.

I get up, and find the thermos that had been knocked out of my hands earlier. I was glad the top was still on and the coffee was safe.

I knew that my lip was busted and that the gash on my forehead had probably split open again. I wasn't sure though. My arms were bruised, and I was sure my legs were too. I stood up and everything ached.

I gathered my things and checked the time. 3:25, I'm going to be late for my job and my dad will yell at me.

With that I raced off to the coffee shop.