"When he got out of the hospital, he went to school twice, but his father drove him, the next day he was gone. No one knew where he went. No one knew why." Try not to be so melodramatic.
It was not a particulrly interesting story either. 
He was a little guy. One of the smallest kids in the class, he had curly fire red hair, and the most shocking green eyes, and glasses. Everyday he had to walk to and from school, along the most dangerous route. In the school there was a gang of boys who were of the worst sort. Always picking on him, and to his disappointment, took the same route as him.
It all started in 1st grade, kept going for 4 more years. Everyday, the teasing the taunting... the pain. He begged his parents to do something, his dad said he just needed to be a man and deal with it. Smaller and smaller inside he grew, he walked with a shuffle, he never looked at anyone. No one knows his pain, he's so alone. He asked them to leave him alone, but this just made it worse.
His 10th birthday, he never had a party, he never had friends. His parents gave him a brand new baseball bat, for he loved to play the game. That day he took it with him to school, to play in the field. He was walking home alone, treasuring that bat.
Out of the trees, five of the toughest guys in that gang jumped out. Surrounding him and his treasure bat.
''Hey fire top, where'd ya get that bat huh? Looks pretty nice, why don't you give it to us.'' The largest one leered.
He shook his head and tried to keep walking, two of them blocked his way, he tried going around but they pushed him down. He stared at them, all the years of hurt and abuse sparking in his eyes. Standing up he gripped the bat in his hand. He swung it at the gang.
They all jumped back in surprise, ''Whoa now little guy, don't be swinging it like that, you're gonna hurt someone.''
He swung again, smacking the leader across the head, he fell over and lay still, blood trickling onto the dirt. He gripped the bat tighter and stared at the other four, his eyes hard and cold. The four scattered, the boy wiped off the bat and kept walking home, trembling with anger.
The next day he left the bat at home, just in case. After school he walked home slowly, lost in thought. Out of the shadows jumped a large, guy, nearly a man. He twisted the boy's arms behind his back, a second teen jumped in front of him, his face hard with anger.
''You cracked a bat across my little brothers head did you? You'll pay for that twerp.'', and started to punch the poor boy hard, hitting his torso and arms, and his face. They broke his jaw and a few other things, they bloodied him, bruised him, till he was motionless and completely helpless.
They left him, lying on the road, his arm was broken, a few ribs, his was bloodied and bruised. He cried to himself, and tried to get up, but he couldn't.
An old man came out of the trees and kneeled by him. ''I saw what happened, sonny, lets get you to the hospital and I'll call your parents.''
He nodded slightly, his face twisted with pain.
At the hospital his mother and father stayed by their son, his mother was crying and holding onto his hand, his father looked at him sadly, ''I'm sorry we didn't listen to you sooner, don't worry, you'll never have to deal with them again.''
The boy stared up at his father, ''How?'' His father shook his head and sat down in a hospital chair, watching his only son.
When he got out of the hospital, he went to school twice, but his father drove him, the next day he was gone. No one knew where he went. No one knew why.
"When he got out of the hospital, he went to school twice, but his father drove him, the next day he was gone. No one knew where he went. No one knew why." Try not to be so melodramatic.
It was not a particulrly interesting story either.
In my opinion, within this, you have the musings of a very good short story. However, as Emma said, I also feel that this is a bit rushed. What it think you should do is leave it alone for about a week or so, come back to it, read it as though you weren't the one who wrote it, and then attack it for your second draft. In this way, you can see it in a different light, and I think that if you were to elaborate on it a bit more, and, as my English teacher ALWAYS says, show rather than tell, you will have an excellent story! Put yourself into the character's shoes. How would you be feeling in this situation? You want your story told; leave out no detail, even if you think its' not important. This is a good start, don't leave it where it is. I'd be interested in seeing the next version if you so choose to write one! Well done! 
Its very good, quite moving. There are a few points that I would like to mention, for instance. Never use numbers E.g. '1, 2.' Always write it out as 'one, two'. It looks so much better and makes the story look professional. Skye has pointed out the other points.
I also feel like the story is rushed, like you're trying to jam so much in. I feel like you could work on that. I didn't actually feel his pain, I think you should describe the way he felt in more detail; was his world spinning, was he shaking when the gang came up to him? Did he cautiously look round to see if there was anybody following him once in a while?
Wow, that was depressing. It's in non-fiction, so I assume it really happened. Is this about you? A close friend? Whichever it is (and I'm not asking you to share if you don't want to), they have my deepest sympathies...
It all started in 1st grade, kept going for 4 more years. Everyday, the teasing the taunting... the pain. He begged his parents to do something, his dad said he just needed to be a man and deal with it. Smaller and smaller inside he grew, he walked with a shuffle, he never looked at anyone. No one knows his pain, he's so alone. He asked them to leave him alone, but this just made it worse.
Out of the trees, five of the toughest guys in that gang jumped out. Surrounding him and his treasure bat.
When he got out of the hospital, he went to school twice, but his father drove him, the next day he was gone.
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