Desolation Row [MxM]

Chapter 05

I'd gone to Arbor Heights for about a month, September quickly leading into October. Things didn't get any better, for me. I was still isolated from everyone else, I still had people “accidentally” running into me or shoving me up against lockers. More often than not, if I wasn't in class, I was down at the nurse, laying down. They were always nice in the nurse's office, and never really asked questions.

The blue-eyed guy apparently did have a name, and it was Joel. The girl I always saw him with was Brielle. I made it a point to avoid Joel at all costs, hiding in the apartment whenever we happened to leave at the same time in the morning. After school, if I saw him, I made sure to stay in the car until I was knew he was out of sight.

Was it kind of a cowardly thing to do? Sure. But I didn't need any more harassment than I already had.

I tried not to be seen by Charlie too often, when he was home. Over the past month I'd lost some weight, and I wasn't exactly at the healthiest body mass to begin with. I'd always been on the small side, but now it was glaringly obvious. There were bruises all over, too. On my arms, my back, my sides. From being either shoved into walls, lockers, or just being straight out hit from someone.

I couldn't even pin point one person, because everyone did it. Anyone who walked by me and decided they didn't like me, I was fair game to them.

Lunch also meant staying in various bathrooms, still. I'd managed to figure out which halls are patrolled at what times, so more often than not, I was pretty safe.

Overall, living in Arbor Heights had gotten no easier. I hated going to school, and I hated being home on the weekends. Most of the time, I was staying in my bedroom.

I sighed heavily, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. It was lunch again, which meant a peaceful half-hour alone before I had to sit through the torture of classes again. I heard the bathroom door open, but I just glanced over to the stall door, not willing to move. More than likely it was a student either skipping like I was, or just in for a few minutes.

Suddenly the lock on my stall door started jiggling, and my eyes widened as I watched it silently. Why was someone trying to open this stall? Obviously it was locked for a reason. I couldn't speak though, just watching as the lock slid open and the door swung, slamming back against the side of the stall loudly.

A few large guys walked in. Whether or not they were actually large, I wasn't sure, but they looked like they were from my vantage point. All I could do was stare up at them, until one of them brought his foot up into my face, making my head snap to the side as I felt pain near my cheek and nose.

I couldn't pay much attention after that, just feeling hands or feet hitting at me repeatedly, at my sides, my arms, my back. At one point, one of them picked me up off the ground to hold me at eye-level, letting me know that yes, they were larger than I was, before he punched me in the face a few times.

The guy dropped me roughly, making me land at an odd angle on my wrist and gasp sharply. They didn't even say anything to each other, just slammed my stall door shut again before they left the bathroom altogether.

What was that? Why did they do that? I didn't even know them, I wasn't even sure if I'd ever seen them before.

I could feel blood dripping down my face, and the area around one of my eyes was painful whenever I blinked, but I couldn't move. I couldn't force myself to get up from the heap I was left in. I had no clue how long I was there, but eventually an administrator came in to check the stalls, and when he saw me, he walked over and pulled the radio off his belt. “I'm going to need Nurse Hill up in the upstairs A-wing boy's bathroom, over,” he said, kneeling down to be more on-level with me. I avoided looking at him, keeping my eyes down at the small puddle of blood forming on the floor.

At some point the bathroom door opened again, and I could hear footsteps coming toward me and whoever the administrator was. Then the nurse was in my field of vision, reaching over to touch my arm. “Victor? Victor, can you hear me?”

All I could manage was a quiet hum of acknowledgment, but that seemed to be enough for her as she nodded and opened the first-aid kit she'd brought with her. She spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning me up, occasionally asking if something hurt, or if I could move a certain part of my body. After a while I was able to stand up, albeit a little shakily, and followed both of them down to the office.

I could hear them calling Charlie, and I wanted to tell them not to, but my mouth still wouldn't work with me. So instead I sat silently in a chair nearby, even as principle Knight walked over to me. “Victor, nice to see you again,” he said. I couldn't find it in me to reply, so he just nodded a little awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I heard you had some trouble, in the bathroom. Want to tell me what happened?”

Not particularly.

“Victor? Victor, are you listening? I need you to tell me who did this.”

Why? Would it matter? It wasn't like telling them what happened would make it suddenly stop happening. Besides, I didn't even know who the guys were.

Principle Knight sighed, the sound coming out irritated as he shook his head and walked away from me. I was left alone, at least until Charlie came in. He looked a little panicked again, and I couldn't help but think that it was a really odd look for him. He spoke with the nurse and the principle for a second before walking over to me, bending down to be on my level and reaching out to touch my arm. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

“I'm fine,” I murmured back, shying away from his hands. Charlie paused at that, looking at me for a second before he sighed a little and backed off. I carefully stood up, grabbing my bag and silently following him out of the building, to the parking lot. Since I'd taken my own car in the morning, Charlie and I broke off from each other to go to our respective vehicles, myself following behind him on the way home.

Getting into the apartment was awkward, because Charlie just stood by and looked at me as I fidgeted. Finally he shrugged a little, glancing around. “So, uh, you hungry?” he asked. I shifted slightly, ducking my head

“Um, I'm just—I'm tired, so I'm...” I trailed off, gesturing back toward my bedroom. Charlie looked at me again for a second before he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah sure, okay. I'll just uh, I'll be out here, if you need me.”

I barely gave him a nod in response as I turned and headed into my room, shutting the door and carefully laying down on the bed. Everything hurt, no matter what I did. My face hurt, my sides, my stomach. Though that was less of a painful feeling and more of a nauseous one.

I didn't manage sleep, but a few hours later I heard Charlie go into his own room, and a while after that, once I was sure he was asleep, I crawled back out of bed. I went over to my dresser, opening the bottom drawer quietly and digging through the back until I found a small box.

Since it was October, it was getting into the weather where long sleeves were more necessary. While they weren't my favorite thing to wear, they did have some perks, such as hiding bruises, or other questionable marks.

The box wasn't anything big or special. Just some little cardboard thing I'd gotten for Christmas one year that had a watch in it, and I'd kept it because I thought it looked nice. I moved back over to the bed, turning on the little lamp that was on the top of the headboard so I could see what I was doing.

Opening the lid, the first thing I saw was a note. It was the same note my parents had left before they went to get a cake for my birthday.

Went to get cake :)

Good job on history!

Happy birthday, be back soon! Love you!

Mom's handwriting was always so neat. Both mine and Dad's was awful, but she did this really cool thing where she combined print and cursive, and just made every letter look so nice, and elegant.

I sniffed a little, setting the note down, off to the side before looking into the box again. There were a few paper towels under the piece of paper I'd removed, and beneath those, three or four razors kept in the bottom of the box.