Young Writers Society

I was listening to my iPod one day and thought of this. Hope you like it(:

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I don’t really know what was wrong and I definitely don’t know what I did, but Dustin Hagers was angry, fierce even. With me. He walked into the cafeteria with such rage and determination, it scared me. I was already upset and crying. My eyes hurt and my heart was making a perfect split down the middle. But I knew for a fact I wasn’t causing a scene. Just one to three of my friends knew of my depression and was next to me every step of the way.

I was at the table closest to the entry doors of the cafeteria, standing with my arms crossed, hood up, listening to my friends tales of their weekend,

“Celia!” I heard my name hollered, escaping the lips of Dustin Hagers. I lazily raised my eyes, I felt so numb. I didn’t really fallow what he was saying, I just know that Dustin was mad, aggravated, and whatever he was saying, it was in a hushed tone. My arms were still crossed, my hood was still up, and my eyes were still lazy. I didn’t look at Dustin. I just looked past him at nothing. He was gradually getting angrier at the fact that I wasn’t paying attention. I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes hazily. I reopened them to examine Dustin’s face.

First, I looked at his eyes. His dark, golden-brown eyes, they were very rare. Usually, they were mysterious. But now, looking into them, they were dangerous and painful. His brows were burrowed, and they always overshadowed his eyes. His teeth were clenched, intensely breathing. His light brown hair messy and distorted. He was on a rampage, to the point where his hushed words turned into yells of frustration.

I just stood there, not really knowing what to expect. “Look at me!” Dustin yelled. He grabbed my wrists as I clenched my fists. He thrust me back against the lunch table. My head went back but my eyes were still calm. I looked and saw one of my friends faces in total dismay. Then, I was hurled back up. A pain went screeching through my back, mainly around my shoulder blade area. I felt my eyes swell with tears. He was still holding my wrists and I heard muffled yells and screams that sounded like my friends. But the whole time I just stood there, taking in.

Finally, I let loose. I exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Instinct took over and my hand reached back and back-handed him across the face. After that, I saw a small drop of blood trickle down from a cut on his cheek. The ring on my finger had cut his face. Then I stormed out of the cafeteria, ignoring all the yelling from the teachers and “Stop’s” from everyone around me. I reached the bathroom and broke down in front of the mirror.

I slowly, but easily, lifted my shirt. A purple-blue bruise extended from my left shoulder blade to my right. A simple line, deep into my skin. Tears ran down my face as my breathing calmed. I eased my hand up to the bruise, careful of hurting myself. I lightly touched it and instantly winced. I moved my arms back down and winced again, it hurt to move my arms at all. I started to cry even more.

What did I do to deserve this?