Chapter 45

• The floor smells nice. Faintly woody. Guess most people don't have a reason to sniff it. A foot to the neck is plenty of reason. Of course, I kicked at the other leg, and of course, its owner falls, but heavy blows as swift and plentiful as the shooting stars were supposed to be last night remind me it was not a fair fight. The explosions of pain forced me into a fetal position, for what little solace it provides me. Couldn't smell the floor anymore, only taste blood.
• By the time they left, I got barely stood up on my own. My hand slammed on the wall beside me, on which my backside was smashed before the beatings I got. My hands were all bloody and I noticed a bloody handprint on the same wall. I was having trouble breathing, my bag was lying on the floor, and it looked more peaceful than I ever was. The moment I fully tried to stand up, my legs gave up on me, making me fall back to the ground. It was around 4 p.m., the basketball field was always empty at that time, the reason why no one was around and the reason why the jocks easily beat me up. I touched my forehead and felt something wet on it, I brought my hand down closer to my view and saw blood, a lot of blood. It must have cut badly when they stroke me on the face with a compass. Should I be thankful it did not touch my eyes? Or should I be thankful I was not stabbed in my throat with the sharp tip of the compass?
• I did not know. My brain could not comprehend so much as it could only focus on the sharp pain that I felt all over my body. I tried to distract my mind, distract myself enough to regain the strength to get up and walk to my home. I know I should have thought about going to the hospital but I did not want to. I wanted to go home, lie on my bed, and sleep.