preview

A Living Hell - Original Writing

Better Essays

A Living Hell Finally, finished another gloomy day of school. Carrying a heavy load of books on my aching shoulders, I started walking towards that same green, old gate as quickly as possible, attempting to avoid anyone, anyone, especially Mike and his brain-dead crew. It’s not far now. I left class early, hoping they wouldn’t– “OI, Terrorist!” Too late. I could hear their ignorant voices getting closer, as their footsteps on the school asphalt were getting louder. I should have known this was going to happen. What’s the point of me trying to escape it anymore. I had a strong metallic taste in my mouth. Blood. My face was brown, covered in dirt, as I laid there helplessly in the wet mud right in front of the school bus stop. Everyone was just staring, laughing. The clear expression on my face showed that I was in so much pain, which probably made it more amusing for them. Cowards. I heard that same stupid, shrieking laugh again behind me as my right arm was pushed further up my back, sending another huge burst of pain through my shoulder. “C’mon, break it,” Someone shouted, “Give the Muzzie what he deserves!” “I should aye, I’ll be doing the school a favour.” Replied Mike, between the gales of laughter. “Get off me, you fat–“ A huge hand, fingers like sausages, gripped my curly hair and pushed my face back into the mud before I could finish what I was saying. I squeezed my eyes shut, flailing my other arm, trying to push myself out of the sucking mud. “Someone grab

Get Access