The Loner

I try to fit in. I do. I avoid all the bullies and teachers, but somehow they always find me. I am, and will always be...the loner.
This is my entry for the bullying comp.


2. Library- Chris

The silent atmosphere of the library hugs me. I have been here for several minutes and already I am getting strange looks from the librarians. I suppose they don’t recognise me; it’s not often that someone cool comes in here. Flicking over a page, I mimic reading, hoping they will lose interest in me. No such luck. I can still feel their heavy gaze on me as I look across the room, to where Danny sits, hunched over a battered book that has an educational-looking cover.

Don't judge a book by its cover.

No. I push that thought to the back of my head. People should be judged. How else would they realise and fix their many flaws? If some carrot-headed freak walked into class, with over-sized glasses, someone should point that out, right?

I sigh, tapping my fingers against the screen of my phone. Glancing down, I see that I have at least three new text messages, all from ‘Unknown’.  God. I wish this guy would leave me alone. All he has done the past month is send me horrible text messages and phone calls. Why pick on me?

You pick on Danny.

No. That is different. He deserves it. I picked him out of a crowd because he stood out the most, what with his perfect childish features and big glasses hanging onto his nose. I could tell the girls liked him, but as he didn’t return the affections, I jumped to the conclusion and started the rumours. Genius. I smile to myself and look up.

As if on cue, Danny gets up and started to pack his bag. Yes. This is my chance. I get up and stride over to him, snatching a pink covered girl’s book from the shelves as I went. The librarian looks up at me, her eyes wide with confusion. I grin sheepishly, shrouding the girl’s book from view. Reaching Danny, I check that the Librarian isn’t looking before proceeding with my plan.

“Hey, gay boy,” I address him with his rightful name. “You forgot something.” Teasingly, I wave the book in his face. The pages flutter open and a feminine bookmark, tattooed with flowers flies out, landing gracefully by his feet. “I saw you reading this the other day. You know, by yourself, at lunch?” He turns bright red and starts to walk away, attempting to ignore me.

No way am I going to let this happen. No way am I going to lose.

“Where do you think you’re going? “I stick my leg out in front of him and he trips over, the contents of his bag flinging onto the floor dramatically. Muffling a hearty laugh, I go to help him up but whip my hand away at the last moment. He crashes to the floor, laying there like the pathetic freak he is.

Why did you do this? You are not cool; just a bully.

No. I protest against my thoughts. Why does everyone have a good conscience? I hate it. Without it, this race would be perfect. Uncaring, selfish and cruel, just the way I like it.

What would it be like if people didn’t have feelings? A lot easier, I guess. But, then there would be no one to torment, no one to bully. It’s easy to assume that people don’t have feelings; that they can’t be hurt, can’t be broken.

But they can, so why do you do this?

For the feeling, the thrill, the attention.

I fight back and a war starts inside me; blood boiling under my skin, causing my veins to throb and my heart to ache. As usual, the bad side; the right side wins.

My thoughts go back to Danny and I start to walk away, absorbing the sniggers and the attention.

This is the way it should be, the way it is.

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