THIS IS CURRENTLY A ONESHOT
IF SUPPORT AND FEEDBACK IS GOOD THEN I WILL CONTINUE THE SERIES
A punch snaps my head sideways before I can breathe.
How much longer can I take this…? My jaw throbs, ears ringing.
Another blow cracks my chin. Vision swims; my knees sag.
The bathroom walls seem to twist in and out of focus, the graffiti faces bending into ugly things that leer at me.
My head slams the paper‑towel dispenser. It's already dented and loose—my skull knocks it clean off its hinges and it clatters to the floor.
"W‑wait, Senshi, pl—"
My plea dies as my skull smacks the tile wall with a sharp crack.
Stop… please stop…
Senshi's fist clamps my collar and drags me upright, nearly lifting me off the tiles. His long white hair, gold‑tipped, hangs over one eye as the other stares down at me—flat, empty. He towers above me like a wall.
A ragged cough tears out of me, spattering spit across his cheek.
He doesn't flinch. Instead he slams me into the wall again.
Pain blooms across the back of my head; each new hit strips away what little strength I have left.
"St—"
"Stop talking."
His hand slides to my throat. Fingers dig in as his other fist pistons into my gut.
Air burns in my chest, each second steals another breath.
I can't… Breathe...
His forehead slams into mine. Air bursts from my mouth in a hoarse grunt; blood gushes from my nose, stinging as it trickles down my lips.
My eyes roll back. I can't lift my arms.
"Boring…"
I crumple to the floor, hacking for breath, clutching my throat. My eyes find Senshi's blank face as he wipes my blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and flicks it onto the wall.
He unties the red jacket from his waist, swings it onto his shoulders over the white tank top, and walks off. The last thing I see is his baggy pants and white shoes disappearing around the corner.
A shrill ringing swells in my ears; the headache comes roaring back as my eyes blink open.
When I swallow, a salty metallic taste slides down my throat.
Damn it… everything stings.
I stagger to the cracked mirror above the sink. The faucet groans before water trickles out; I cup my hands under it and stare at the rippling puddle.
Tears build at the corners of my eyes, spilling before I can blink them back. I splash water over my cuts, hissing at the sting.
Every single day...
The broken soap dispenser beside the sink tilts as if mocking me. My fist lashes out and smashes it. My blow gave it the final push needed to knock it loose as it crashes to the floor.
The sound is drowned out by the muffled roar of students in the hallway. I dig my phone out with shaking fingers.
3:32...
A sigh, more so a whimper, slips out as I rinse the blood from my face.
Minutes pass until the hallway noise thins to silence. I peek out, then limp toward the exit.
Halfway there, my leg buckles and I slam against a row of lockers. The clang makes me freeze, eyes darting around.
Damn it… not now. Just keep moving.
I drag myself onward, shoulder scraping the lockers, then shove through the heavy double doors.
Sunlight hits my battered face like a flash grenade; my vision swims again.
Clusters of people mill near the steps: athletes jogging toward the field, band kids juggling their instruments, friend‑groups gathering together as I limp toward the parking lot.
Halfway across the pavement, a realization hits me
Great… My bag's still in the bathroom.
I pivot to go back but my knee gives out and I crash to the ground.
"Get out of the way, asshole!"
I look up at a short guy glaring down at me. His button‑up and jeans don't match the cheap ballcap, but I'm not about to point that out.
"Yeah… sorry."
Not again...
"Next time stay outta the way, skinny f***."
"I will."
"You better, b****."
Please… Just leave me alone.
He stands over me, waiting for me to rise, and then shoves me back down again.
Of course.
"All right, I get it… I'm sorry…"
I raise one hand half‑heartedly, using the other to brace on the concrete.
"Get up."
"What?"
"I said get up."
"Can we not do this…"
"You wanted to be a piece of s***, so get up."
No matter how many times this happens, it never gets easier.
"Can you just… leave me alone, please?"
"P***y."
"Please… just stop."
"That's what I thought."
He cocks his fist back.
"The hell are you doing?"
Another voice cuts in. Someone steps between us, shoving the shorter guy away.
I don't care who. My head sinks as exhaustion drags me down. Their words fly over my head as I wait for one of the two to eventually begin beating me.
A hand reaches down to offer me aid.
Confused, I raise my head and see the man who'd stepped in before. He smiled slightly while opening his hand repeatedly. The shorter man was now a couple yards away, storming off towards the athletic department.
"Oh, thank you..."
"You good?"
"Yeah, I'm alright."
His finger points to the many scars and bruises covering my face
"Did he do that?"
"Was someone else."
"You need to learn to fight back, or else he won't stop."
You think I haven't tried!?
"I know..."
"I'll help you."
My mind goes blank with confusion for a moment.
"What...?"
"Come with me, I can help you."