The Monster Life Of Brandon Clearwater

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Scratched

Submitted: January 16, 2012

Reads: 37

Comments: 1

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Submitted: January 16, 2012




2. Scratched
I just sat on my bed, touching my wounds for pleasure. Yes, I was a masochist; you wouldn’t expect that from a nerd now would you? I mean lets face it, if I was going like this everyday, why not get used to the pain, and what other way to get used to it but to enjoy it? I sighed and pressed on the scratch on my arm, ah, it felt so good! I’m not saying that I love being bullied for the pleasure it brings to me, that’s not healthy. What I’m trying to say is that one day I’d like to show those asshole’s how it feels to be me, to be harassed everyday. 
Sometimes I think that those who bully me may be gay….it’s always me they pick on, it’s never someone else. Do they have a freaking crush on me? Am I that handsome or do I at least have some good looks they like? Alternatively, maybe some defect I have they consider cute? If they do then I’m doomed big time but, it would be something I’d love to haunt them with the rest of their lives. I sighed once again and scratched the bruise on my eye. 
“Brandon, what are you doing?!” My mother yelled from her room.
“Nothing much, what do you want?!!!” I responded.
“Bring me a glass of water!”
“I’ll be there in a moment!!!” I stood up and walked towards the kitchen. 
My mother: Silena Clearwater. Traumatization, her therapist said she had that. Nobody knew why and whenever someone asked she would panic and begin to cry. I always wondered what had happened. Was she raped when she was younger? Did she some kill somebody or did someone commit suicide infront of her eyes. She hadn’t talked to many people fearing that she would get killed or something like that. 
The cause of her trauma wasn’t the only thing I wondered about my mom, there was always some guy that would come and visit her twice every week. He never said why or what was his reason for the visits he would only tell me he wanted to talk to my mom.  He would always say, “Look, kid, my business with your mom is none of your concern.” and I would always roll my eyes and shut the door in his face.
I knocked on my mother’s door and opened it. Her appearance was worst than before. She had a dark color in her skin that she got from not enough sleep, her hair was messy. She looked at me with concern, “What happened to you?” She asked. My mother was nice, it was very rare when she was in a bad mood and when she was in a bad mood, those were the worst days of my life. 
“Nothing, just accidentally ran into a pole on the way home that’s all.” I finished with a smile as I gave her the glass of water. “It was James wasn’t it?”
“No” I lied and looked away.  I wasn’t a bad liar, but when it came to my mom, I sucked at it.
“Brandon, you cant keep on taking crap from him, you gotta defend yourself.”
“How, mom, Peter is never here to teach me! He’s always somewhere out selling or doing drugs and when he’s not doing that he’s always in a bad mood.”
“I know, but you have to understand that your father doesn’t have time anymore.”
“Oh, sure, he has time to buy himself some drugs doesn’t he?”
She drank from her water, “You know your dad loves you and he would love to teach you self-defense.”
“How do you know my dad knows self defense?” I asked. 
“Before we got married used to be a kick boxing teacher.”
“And what the hell happened that made him quit?!” Was Peter stupid enough to quit something like kick boxing?! Who does that? He quit kickboxing for drugs? That’s stupid…
“He…he never told me…he says it’s pretty complicated to explain.”
“When Peter says ‘it’s complicated’ usually means, ’Oh, Silena I’m too high to explain it.’”  
Mother giggled, “That’s not true, Brandon. You know, your father isn’t always high. Sometimes he’s sober.”
“You said it yourself, Sometimes.” I looked at the clock: nine thirty. “Well, mom, I’ve got school tomorrow…good night.”
“Sleep well.”
I smiled and looked at her, “I’ll try my best.” I stood up and walked out of my mother’s bedroom. 
I slowly walked towards my room. My stomach hurt from my bruises and a lot. The scratch on my arm burned. If I was going to be bullied like this for the rest of my life, I much rather die and not live the rest of my life harassed by James’ little posey. 
I entered my P.E. class and slowly walked towards the locker room. I was the first one, like usual. Nobody in school really cares anymore, they just do whatever comes to their  mind. People here act so smart and nice but I’ve noticed that they are the stupidest from all.
I sighed. Ah, P.E. the only class in which jocks can which to insult you and you can’t do anything about it. They could make fun of your psychical appearance and the gym teacher will support them. If they call insults encouragement, then I wanna give James and his retarded friends a huge amount of encouragement. It was the class I hated the most and sadly if one of the classes I need to take for the semester. 
I looked around in discretion and slowly, very slowly, took off my shirt. I had a HORRIBLE body, I literally gave anorexic a new meaning. I was a very thin kid my entire life and during my high school…damn, those were the years in which it looked the worst! I looked down to my stomach to face the bruises James and his little group had given me. They hurt like hell, but it was not something I could take away with the blink of an eye. I stood up and walked towards my gym locker. I opened it and grabbed they grey T-shirt that had our shitty symbol and put it on. 
The laughter of a group of idiots ruined the perfect silence. I could hear James annoying laugher. He reached my eyesight. 
“Well well well, look who we have here…Mr. Clearwater with his bulimic body.”
I squinted, “Dude, do you even know what bulimic is?”
He nodded, “I’m talking to it.”
I looked at Drake, “He’s talking to you Drake…you know it’s not very polite to ignore your majors.” 
Drake gave me an insolent smile, “Oh, stop acting up.”
I ignored his comment and turned to Steve, “So tell me, Steve, when are you planning to come out of the closet?” 
“What? I’m not gay…” 
“Oh, yeah, your girl nails really prove your theory wrong…”
James smirked and said, “Brandon, what would you do if I told you that I’m giving you a 10 second head to start running before we start chasing you.” They all opened up a path for me to pass. “10.….9.….8.….” He began the countdown. I looked at them. They all smiled like the douche bags they were. 
I started to run as fast as I could. It wasn’t my fault that I was stupid enough to let out insults that would bring me a lot of trouble. I was raised liked that. I would snap like that to my dad almost everyday and I didn’t know I would let out my insults to my bullies in school. Maybe the nurse was right, maybe I couldn’t take it anymore I would allow foul language to just fly out of my mouth. I turned around and saw them running out of the locker room to follow me. 
What scared me the most for the moment was my bruises to slow me down on the wrong moment. They hurt so badly. I tried to run faster but that just increased my pain by several levels. I stopped infront of the gym door and tried to open it. Sadly, it was locked…the gym teacher wasn’t there. Great, just when I need the freaking teacher the most, he’s fucking outside. I cussed under my breath and continued my running. 
Rush, that’s all that ran through my body now. I didn’t feel fear towards the situation. Fear: an unpleasant feeling of anxiety or apprehension caused by the presence or anticipation of danger. First, I had no idea what fear felt like and trust me, James’ bullying didn’t teach it at all. I had seen fear on so many people but I personally never experienced it. I wasn’t sure what gave me fear and honestly, it sure wasn’t James’ friends nor his fist. 
I looked back again and this time James and his friends were closer. 
When I was about to look forward again I had bumped into someone. “What’s your problem kid?!” The female voice said. I looked at her. She had long brown hair held in a ponytail. Her skin was pale and her eyes were a caramel hue. She looked seventeen, just like me. 
“Oh my god, I am so deeply sorry!” I apologized. 
“It’s cool.” she said. At that moment I noticed how beautiful she was, probably the most gorgeous person I had seen in my entire life. I looked back to check on James…he and his posey of idiots had disappeared. 
“Is everything okay?” The girl asked.
“Not really, I’m being followed by this group of retards who want to beat me up.”
“I see, well, as long as you stay with me they won’t do shit.”
I looked at her like if she was crazy, “Are you serious?”
She nodded, “I do witchcraft, brother.” She wrapped her arm around mine and walked me outside where the rest of the class was.
That girl was the only thing I thought of for the rest of the day. Her name was Darcy Richter. She was seventeen and she was an exchange student from my dream city, Toronto, Ontario. I found out I had her for six classes! Ah, she was perfect… Pretty much, the girl of my dreams. The best thing about today was the she invited me over to her house to show me pictures of Canada and the many other places she had traveled to. 
I walked out of school. I was about to start walking back home when I noticed James and his friends coming my way. They were laughing and hitting each other. I hid behind the nearest wall. I peeked over to see them. They all looked around and walked towards this weird looking oak tree. I, very slowly, hid behind a car. I peeked again to perceive James bending over to pick up a piece of rope and open a door. 
“…the hell?…” I softly muttered. They walked into that room, still laughing. I decided to follow, which was probably stupid of me. I walked to where the door was. I kneeled down and looked for the rope. As soon as I found it, I opened the door and got in. 
I pulled up my hood and began to walk. At first, it looked like a soon-to-fall tunnel with roots coming out of the walls and torches lighting the path. What is this?, I thought. I saw James walking by the tunnel, wearing a black sleeveless turtle neck shirt with a black bullet proof (well, that’s what it looked to me) vest over it. I backed away, looked away and tried to use my black jacket to blend in with the shadows. I think it kinda worked because he didn’t notice me at all. 
I looked ahead and began to walk forward. There were cells with men inside. A prison underneath school? Also, what are James and his friends doing here? I got even more confused every time I thought about it. I wanted answers and I had to find them one way or another. I unhurriedly walked passed the prisoner cells.
Man, these people were crazy. They screamed and yelled. They acted like complete maniacs. Their hair was messed up and scratches covered their faces. I had never seen people act this way. Not even my mom panicked this way whenever someone asked the ‘why are you like this?’ question. The cells seemed endless, there were more and more prisoners ahead. I sighed, how long were the answers away from me? A couple hundred miles away?! Hopefully not, because I swear to god I will walk out.
Suddenly, a tight hand grabbed my wrist tightly. I looked at the person holding it. He had a grown beard and long brown hair. I noticed his eyes were a weird silver color. Was he sick or something? 
“I can make you like me, kid.” He said almost whispering. I tried to remove my wrist from his strong hand but it seemed impossible. “All you have to do is get me out of here…” He continued. 
“I…I don’t know who the hell you are!” I panicked. 
He gave me a devious grin and tightened my wrist. I don’t know how long this old man worked out but that hurt. 
James voice started to sound like if it was coming my way. My eyes widened and my panic increased even more by the second. I looked at the old man and he still held my wrist as tight as he could. 
“Let go of me!” I almost yelled. That seemed to be really loud because James’s laughter stopped and the sound of running steps sounded louder. The man obeyed and let go of me but a sharp pain affected me on the process. I began to run as fast as I could to avoid James seeing me. He probably knew I was here either way. I ran through the tunnel and out the door. I kept on running. I ran out of the school’s territory and headed towards home. Ah, the pain in my wrist increased badly. I stopped and hid behind a tree to look at my wrist. My eyes widened when I noticed three deep cuts. 
--End Of Chapter-- 

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