Atlas Toren -14-

Atlas POV

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I was brought back to when my dad and older brother would do something similar. This wasn’t the same though. 

All of the jocks’ kicks and punches were much weaker. They were laughing, too. My family wouldn’t usually laugh. On occasion, sure, but it would usually just be them yelling. I felt every bruise and cut form as they hit me. 

My mind was blank. The overwhelming rush of pain came again and again. They all took turns. Well, not really. It was more they all got as many hits in as possible. I was still held up thought.

Kicking my legs around, I shut my eyes, trying to push them away. It wasn’t working. Pain exploded all throughout my body, and I began to lose track of time.

 I didn’t let the tears fall though. I had been through worse. I could start to feel the blood run down my side. So much for not bleeding out. Bringing my mind back, I braced myself, before opening my eyes.

 Bad idea. The jocks’ faces kept staring at me, dark smiles spread over their faces as they laughed about gay bitches, fags, and too many other words to keep track of. They didn’t stop hitting though. It was like they never got tired. It was relentless.

But I wasn’t really processing that. My mind was working on how I was getting out. I knew the pain would get to me at some point, but some point isn’t right now. 

And so right now, I decided, was the time to get out. Gathering my courage, I opened my eyes again, before dropping myself out of one of the jock’s grip. Pulling myself up, I caught one of the kicks that was thrown at me, twisting it, and watching as the boy howled in pain. 

I inwardly smirked. That looked painful. Throwing my own sets of punches, I caught them off guard. As I kneed a couple in the stomach, the stairwell door burst open. My head didn’t swing over to look.

Never be distracted. One of the main rules that had been beat into me. But I guess I should have looked. Next thing I knew, I was being swung into someone’s arms.

 Trying to ignore the feeling that was overcoming me, I bit my lip, drawing blood. This wasn’t one of the jocks. And something told me I couldn’t go flying my fists here. That didn’t mean I was comfortable.

 The unsettling feeling kept creeping over me as I held myself back from releasing the person’s grip. At least my vision wasn’t blurry. No tears, remember?

 I watched as the mall’s guards came in, picking up the bloody and bruised jocks on the floor. My eyes dimmed a little as they were taken away. 

I wasn’t sad or anything, I just… wasn’t really feeling anything to be honest. I think it was then that what had happened began to catch up with me.

 I could only lie still as my head began to feel faint, and the loud noises kept on rushing around me. 

I could vaguely hear someone familiar, but my brain hadn’t registered it before my vision became dark. 

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