Chapter 2
Marcel Harry Styles. P.O.V
"ARGHHH!!" I screamed as the five older college boys beat the poo (I don't like to swear) out of me. I was balled up on the dirt covered ground, my legs bent, covering my stomach area, and my arms wrapped around my head. *Crunch* I waled in pain, screaming louder then I even knew I could flinching, letting go of my head and hugging my right side where the pain started to develop. I felt and heard an excruciating sound come from it.
I hoped they hadn't broken yet another rib -that would bring my current total to 11 and FYI you only have 20.
The five older, senior college students must have heard it too because they suddenly sprinted away leaving me practically lifeless and abandoned at the back of the school.
The pain was overwhelming but I pushed through it and rolled onto my back. My limbs ached and were stretched out by my sides. I laid there panting, letting the pain devoured me. Blood and tears fell from my body like they so commonly did. Why did I always let them do this? It wasn't like I was weak. I was quite skinny but I did work out. I even had a developed six-pack and everything. After what seemed like days but probably just an hour or so, I rolled on my stomach and tried getting up. I dragged my limbs under me so I could lean on all four.
I slowly stood up with the help of the tree that was blocking the teacher's view from what just occurred. I struggled over the oval and to the school doors ready to leave because I didn't live on campus. School had ended about half an hour ago for me. I know that because I had heard the 4 o'clock bell. I saw my reflection in the tinted glass door as I approached the building's entrance. I wore my usual attire. Brown trousers, black church shoes, what used to be a white long-sleeved button up shirt, brown plaid vest, and a black bow tie. I had now broken glasses that I have to admit were too big for my face and my usual gelled back brown hair with a little wave on top for my fringe. And to tie down my outfit I wore tears, blood, dirt, twigs and mud.
I limped towards my high school-like locker holding my throbbing side. When I got there I fished out the school work I thought that I would need for the holidays. Yeah, I got beat up on the last day of school.
I am the school nerd and I hate it. I am beat up every day and I don't know why. And to make things worse I let them do it because I know if I wanted to I could cause some damage to them. What I mean is that I'm not the usual weak flabby nerd. I work out (which I have told you but I'll explain a bit more). I don't just work out occasionally but all the time (obviously not the days I get servilely beaten). The reason for this is because when I started as a freshman I knew for sure they would take an interest in me in a bad way, I was scared because they were huge.
I joined a gym 2 towns over (the reason I joined one so far away was so that my nerdy reputation didn't follow me and that no one there would know me) and got a personal trainer named Dave. He is great but he worked me so hard I could hardly breathe at times but I thank him. Now I have a defined six-pack, V-line, biceps and calf muscles and I know when I get beaten I won't die, and if I really need to I can fight back. But what bothers me most is that I don't know why they beat me. Is it because of the way I dress, the way I stutter which they don't know I only do when I'm nervous which is all the time now because of them, the fact I'm a straight 'A' student or that I'm younger than them and when I say younger I mean it?
I am 17 years old and I am already a Junior in college. I know what you're thinking. How can that be? Well it's simple really. When I was in grade 6 I skipped 7 so I was in 8. Then I skipped 9 so I was in 10. Then I skipped 11 so I was in grade 12. I graduated high school when, believe it or not, I was 14. I soon started college so I was a 15 year old Freshman, then a 16 year old Sophomore and here I am a 17 year old college Junior. And by the time I graduate next year I will be the same age if not younger then the future Freshman which is...scary.
I shoved everything into my bag and shuffled out carting it in my arms not on my back.
When I was out of the school and in the street I suddenly heard a sound. *Beep Beep* I was so startled I nearly fell off the curb. I looked around to see if anyone around me had gotten a text but I was the only one around so I took my phone out of my back pocket and checked it. It was a miracle that every time I am beaten up, my phone has been in my pocket and not once has it cracked or chipped.
I looked down to see I had gotten a text. Who would want to text me? I was hesitant to unlock my phone and read it because the jerks (technically no a swear word) have started to cyber bully me. I opened my phone knowing I hadn't ever given my number to anyone so they couldn't have it. Thank god. If they had my number as well I would scream louder than a rocket launch.
When I unlocked my phone I read it and it said:
"Dear Mr. Styles. My name is Anna Loo and I would like to inform you that as an orphan at St. Paul's Orphanage we would like you to come down to Washington DC. This is where our HQ are and we are inviting all orphans at St. Paul's to come. We would like you to tell us if you cannot come so we can arrange assistance. If you are unable to pay for your flight the St. Paul's charity can help. Hope we can see you on the 31st of this month, ta for now. Anna Loo, your house mother. For more information, text back."
I was confused. Why couldn't they wait for me to come home? I mean if I was already adopted or at a foster house I could see a text being necessary but I am neither. I haven't been in a foster house in almost 7 years and I've been living at a St. Paul's orphanage since so, again, why couldn't they wait until I got home to tell me in person?
I put my phone away and shrugged it off. I started to walk 'home.' I struggled with every step and I just wished I had driven to school today. The reason I walk to and from school is because of my car. The reason is not because it's a bad one but because it's a good one.
I have a black Porsche which I am very proud of. I leave it in the private underground car park basement at St. Paul's because I'm afraid if I drive it to school Dan, Johnny, Daniel, Cal and Mike (my bullies and the people who beat me up) will key it and or steal it. I know other students wouldn't but those five boys are the school's 'bad boys.'
I know you might have 2 questions for me. One, Marcel, how can you afford a Porsche? And two, Marcel why aren't you going to the hospital if you have a suspected 11 broken ribs?
Well, both answers pretty much tie in together. I am a paid medical intern at St. Kappa's private hospital and it pays well so that's how I can afford my car. And I am extremely good at my job so I know how things work so when I'm alone in the x-ray clinic I take x-rays of my chest. I know for a fact I have 10 broken ribs and when I get home I need to go to work anyway so I will have to x-ray myself again. But for your information my ribs are fine they just need to heal. Nothing we can do to broken ribs really. And I can sort of cope with the pain if I keep up my Panadol intake.
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Harry, Edward and Marcel
Fanfiction{completed} Harry Styles, the famous singer from One Direction has always known about his past. He knows that he is an orphan who has been living with a foster family for almost 15 years now. He, unlike Edward and Marcel, has always known he was 1 p...
