Summertime (Frerard)

2: HighWay to Hell

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School seems to physically repel me. Even the thought of the hellish prison that they dared to call a safe and happy environment for growing adolescents made me want to hurl. The daily routine he become nothing more than an embodiment of dread, that pulled at my guts day by day, squeezing and twisting until I felt like throwing up the contents of my stomach into the boy's toilets. Sitting in a classroom gave me pounding headaches, as if someone was knocking, tapping bony knuckles against my skull constantly until they managed to dent my skull, leaving a hole that my consciousness would slowly drain out of. Thankfully, I had never actually passed out in school; if I did, then quite frankly, I doubt I'd ever heard the last of it.

World News Headline: That Emo Loser Faints In Maths - What An Airhead!

I suppose my mind and body squirming and squealing as a mere reaction to this place was unpleasant, but not impossible to deal with; all that wasn't real, it was all chemicals and hormones - little buggers, but that was hardly it.

I was a piglet in a slaughterhouse to those senior boys with barely fifteen teeth between them and enough facial scarring to drive a make-up artist insane. The Killers, I believe they liked to call themselves, however I doubted that they'd be too keen on that name if they ever gained the mentally capacity to hear of the band of the same name, one of my favourite bands in fact. They wouldn't like that at all.

The group of four boys; Vince, Skully, Ash and Zachariah, were brutal, no doubt, but painfully stupid, (Zachariah could barely even spell his own name) which meant they weren't too much of a hassle- okay, that's an understatement, but they knew no better means to make my life hell than homophobic slurs, shoddily put together insults on my style and the good old beating me to a pulp. Fun, fun, fun!

Skully, or Sam if you wanted to call him by his birth name, seemed to have brewed some deep dwelling hatred for me throughout middle and elementary school, when he was just as much of an outcast as me and was stupidly jealous of the fact that I had a brain, this was when having an IQ over twenty wasn't something that required a weekly scheduled beating and was somehow in fact even praised by someone over than those weird perverted teachers that had an awfully uncomfortable habit of chatting up the kids that looked like they wouldn't be missed. Steering clear of Mr Stanley was a much of a regular thing for me as avoiding 'The Killers'.

In all honesty, Skully's preteen jealousy was most likely irrelevant by my junior year and he'd simply got sadistic enough to get his kicks out of shoving me into lockers daily. They were dickheads to everyone, but Skully seemed to enjoy diverting the group's attention towards me.

They would hardly grab enough degrees as a collective to work in McDonald's right now, so they really weren't that much of a threat. They'd need a witty ringleader if they really wanted to get at me, because if I avoided them at school and waited half an hour before walking home on a Friday, their feeble attempts at ruining my life were easy to avoid.

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I pulled my hoodie up, shielding my face in some attempt to blend into the crowd of busy students. Ploughing through the confused Freshmen, giggling Sophomore girls, those Senior pricks and generally just fed up Juniors.

I was quite short, so I had to walk on my tiptoes, pushing myself up to a decent height, to avoid being pushed into a toilet bowl along with a group unsuspecting Freshmen. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost;I had myself to worry about here.

"Hey-" I pulled my hood back slightly, peering behind me. I panicked, noticing the four of them smugly perched on top of the lockers. Ash tapped Skully and his finger wavered in my direction. "Is that Iemo?" I pulled my hood down and picked up my pace, still making an effort not to draw too much attention to myself, but wanting to get into my homeroom without a black eye.