I didn’t try to stand until I was certain I could move without throwing up. Straightening my lanky frame with a hiss, I wished once more that I had my brother’s bulk. While my growth spurt had eventually hit, it hadn’t done the same for my physique as it had for Max’s.
Mind you, that probably had more to do with my avid dislike for the gym. Max and his ever-faithful companion might spend all their spare time there, but it wasn’t for me.
I had my books. My cooking. My art.
It didn’t get me laid or stop the bullies, but it was enough. It had to be.
Just six more months and you’ll be at university.
I inhaled deeply, ignoring the shooting pain in my ribs. I could do this. I just had to get through the rest of this academic year, survive the summer holidays, and then I’d be at uni. I’d be free.
Free to reinvent myself. Free to make friends. Free to live a life without everyone knowing there was a better, cooler, more fun version of me they could hang out with.
It’d just be me. No bullies. No Max.
And, best of all, no Dominic.
I took one step towards my class and stopped with a wince. Nope. Walking was a bad idea…which meant sitting in class was a no-go until I’d checked out the damage. The last thing I needed was some do-gooder teacher trying to interfere. That would lead to questions I had no answers to.
Sure, I could tell the truth. But you want to know where that gets you?
Right back on the floor, with more boots to your ribs. Been there. Done that.Say what you wanted about me, but I didn’t make the same mistake twice.
I managed to walk by doingsome weird shuffle move. It pulled on my lower back but didn’t make me want to vomit.
Got to take the wins where you find them.
It took an agonisingly long time, but eventually I reached the boys’ toilets. Tears pricked at my eyes as I used my injured shoulder to push the heavy door open.Do not fucking cry.
Thankfully, the toilets were empty. I hobbled over to one of the sinks and peered in the dirty mirror.
Relief flooded me at the sight that stared back. The foetal position appeared to have protected my face. My skin was red and blotchy, but other than that it was fine.
That was where my luck ended though. I peeled up my shirt and twisted as much as I could to see the damage to my back and side.
Fuck.
My skin was a canvas of blue, red, and, purple. If I twisted far enough, I could make out a distinct boot mark right over my kidneys.
Great. Just fucking great. Now I’d have to start praying I didn’t start pissing blood. This was bad enough without needing to get a doctor involved.
I let go of a shirt with a sigh and braced my arms on the sink. I stared hollowly at the man in the mirror. The boy, really. I might be eighteen now, but adulthood felt a million light years away.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” I hissed. “It’s no wonder you’ve got no friends.”
My reflection stared back at me. I didn’t fight back, not even against myself.
“Even your own brother hates you,” I whispered. “You’re weak. A joke. No one wants you. No one.”
The tears I’d fought so hard against earlier threatened again. I didn’t know why I was doing this. I never used to. It was like the vitriol in my head had built up over the years, and I had no way to release it.
So this was how I did it. In a mirror. Reminding myself of what a fucking failure I was. Hoping that, if I set the words free, they’d stop haunting me.
It never worked.
More were building up already. They were bouncing against the walls of my brain, begging to be set free.Weak. Pathetic. Alone. Disgusting. Failure.
I was about to give them what they demanded when the door crashed open. I hurriedly dropped my head, flicking on the taps.
