Sit Back, Gotta Catch My Breath

"Can you believe we're graduating in a few weeks?" Juliet asked as we walked to music class.
I shook my head. "No. It's crazy." I looked over at her. "What do you plan on doing after you graduate?"
She shrugged. "Go to college, I guess. It's really my only option. My parents are pretty strict about school and stuff so..."
"Yeah. My parents wanted me to go to college, but I just... I don't know. I don't like the thought of more school. So I'm just kinda hoping the band takes off."
We entered the music room and sat down in our seats. "I think you guys will end up making it pretty far. You're really good."
I smiled at her. "Thanks. That really means a lot."
"No problem. So, how's it going with the new guitarist?"
I shrugged. "He's pretty cool. And he can learn a song pretty quick, so that's good."
She smiled. "Well sounds like you guys hit the jackpot, then. When's the next gig?"
I thought for a second. "Um... Next week. Wednesday to be exact."
She nodded. "Cool. I'll come and watch you guys. And maybe Andy could come. Just depends on if he's doing anything with his band that night."
"That sounds awesome. Thanks."
The bell rang for class to start and I pulled out my class notebook as the teacher started the lesson. I wrote down just about everything he said. Taking notes recently became a necessary thing since I can't seem to remember anything.
My stomach growled loudly and Juliet looked over at me. "You sound hungry," she whispered.
I shook my head. "Nah. I'm fine." I gave her a reassuring smile before returning to taking notes. But in all honesty, I haven't eaten a thing in the past three days, and I was starting to feel weak.
The rest of the class period passed by pretty quickly. The bell rang and I put up all my stuff and left the room with the rest of the class as the students for the next class tried to push their way into the classroom. I started down the hallway, but stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Hey, Gaskbarf, where you goin'?"
I sighed and turned to look at Broc. "What do you want, Broc?" I asked dryly.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Watch your tone when you talk to me, faggot."
I crossed my arms. "I don't have to watch my damn tone. You don't own me."
He started to laugh.
"I don't know what's so funny."
He stopped laughing suddenly and pushed me against the lockers. "Listen up, faggot. You better learn to respect the people who could easily beat the shit out of you."
"Ha! Respect you? Why on earth should I respect a meathead like y-"
I was cut off by a fist colliding with my gut. I bit my lip, trying my hardest not to cry out for help. He hit me in the stomach again and again. He let me go and I dropped to the floor, whimpering in pain. I looked up at the tall boy, scared of what he was going to do.
Before I was even aware that he moved, his foot collided with my ribs and I cried out. I doubled over, tears now falling from my eyes. He kicked me again in the exact same place, and I felt something crack. I cried out again.
I began to beg for him to just kill me already, but he just laughed and continued punching and kicking me.

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"Well, you should be happy to know that Broc has been kicked out for the rest of the year and he's going to have to repeat senior year," the nurse said as she wiped some blood off of my bruised face.
I just sat there, whimpering in pain, as she cleaned me up. I held the ice pack that she gave me to my ribs, which I'm pretty sure were broken. She continued to clean up the cuts on my face. She reached for my arm and I quickly pulled away.
She looked up at me. "I'm just trying to clean you up. I think I saw another cut."
I shook my head. "N-no," I said in a raspy voice, "They didn't touch my arms. My arms are okay. It's just my face and torso."
She gave me a worried expression and sighed. "Alright. Can you just lift up your shirt so I can see the damage they did?"
I nodded and carefully lifted up my shirt to reveal three giant bruises that were damn close to black in color.
She examined my bruises for a couple minutes before speaking. "I'm going to call your mother. I think you need to be checked out my a doctor."
I nodded, not really caring anymore. "Okay."

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I sat on my bed and just stared at my phone. I don't know why I was just expecting Jack to call or text or something, but I did. Maybe because he was always there for me when something bad happened, and I just wanted it to be that way again? I don't know.
I sighed, and then winced in pain. It hurt to breath. It turns out, I have three broken ribs. Mum wanted to press charges, but I talked her out of it. I said kept telling her that it was no big deal and my ribs would heal eventually. And after about an hour, she agreed. She was pretty upset about this. At one point, she even said that she wished that we never moved here from England.
And I hate to say it, but I kind of agree with her.

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