My pen traced what we call words onto the thin, sharp paper. Mr. Barren continued to talk about our world history, but I wasn't paying much attention. My fingers traced the paper's outline, savoring the touch of the paper's edge, not quite cutting into my thumbs flesh.
"And that's why Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. Booth felt as if Lincoln was the root and the main cause of destruction in the South and of its people. Lincoln was killed out of anger and resentment; the only reason to say so. It's a shame he died as young as he was," Mr. Barren spoke, pulling me from my own worst thoughts. Sometimes I wished I was dead too.
The bell rung, and for once, I felt excited to leave class, but thereafter, I realized that this was only the beginning class and that I still had four more to go. That means I was stuck here in this hell hole for another good six hours. I just wanted to go home and be warmly welcomed by my friends who always helped me through my anguish. That is the only emotion I know of anymore. I don't remember a day when I've truly been happy; I tend to hide behind my fake, plastered smile for most of my days. I'm just grateful for my arrival home when I can take that mask off.
Lunch drew near at agonizingly slow pace, and that bothered me much, much more than it should have. My mind liked to play games, so I was never completely sure if I was stable enough to trust myself or not. I'd say for the most part that my mind is utter insanity and a complete clutter.
The lunch line was short, so I slipped into an open gap up front. Nobody gave me a second glance, which was rather unsurprising. When I joined the school I wasn't quick to make friends, but I was quick to keep my distance.
I'm Vic Fuentes, the loner and disturbance of this school. Nobody cares what I think about a topic in class, or what my opinions are on people within the school. The only time I'm noticed is when I'm being bullied, though that has become an irregular event. It's because I've found everybody's weak spot; they don't desire searching for the loner of the school. Unless they see me and they're blatantly aware it's me, I'm fine. I tend to sneak around their plans, deceiving them almost every time. While I may not have the greatest grades in this school, I do know my stuff.
Grabbing my tray, I hurried out of the lunch room. Nobody guards the doors because it's common for students with a license to leave for lunch. It's weird, though, because it's also an alternative and easy way to ditch. I would know because I ditch frequently.
Walking down the hall, I made sure to dodge the iota of students lurking the halls, just so I wouldn't hear them mocking me.
'Look at that loser, eating his lunch alone.'
Common; it doesn't even faze me anymore. Down the hall and to the right led me to a pair of steep stairs. I went down them, watching my step so I wouldn't fall and face plant flat into my food. Either way, it wouldn't matter because I'm not even hungry, and I rarely am. Down the stairs, the basement waited for me. It's presence seemed gloomier and darker than usual. I come down here frequently, most of the time for lunch, but I wasn't here for lunch today. I was here for what seemed to consume 50% of my life.
Setting my tray down on a long, white table, I made my way through a narrow, dark hall into an old and abandoned restroom. I had no idea what this school building used to be, but its basement was extremely weird and chilling. Anyone could get freaked out down here, even me. And I'm weird and chilling.
My bag dropped onto an old, worn out side table as I walked over to a mirror. I couldn't help but wonder why everything was abandoned; it's not like anyone comes down here anyway. Hell, I don't think the janitor cleans down here anymore, considering the floors are grimy and it's common to see rats pass through. This basement's probably not following the school regulations, but it's not like I care. This was the only place in the entire school where I could be by myself.
