Invisible Bruises

A boy, trapped in a world full of hatred, finds he has a hidden power that allows him to escape from it all.


3. Three

Having made his way out of the dense crowd - no one happened  to notice an invisible figure forcing its way through the people- Adam decided that the rest of school was not worth it. It would have just been another two hours of petty insults and punches whenever the teacher was not looking.

To be honest, he doubted that his history teacher would have intervened even if she had been watching. Mrs Merrison was not the kind of teacher who liked to get involved in the personal issues in the class, all she cared about was the pupils achieving their predicted grades, and once they had done that, the students were free to do whatever they wanted. If she ever did catch one of the boys swearing at Adam, she would merely shake her head and mutter under her breath, "boys will be boys." That seemed to be her only answer to anything.

Adam had better things to do than waste two hours of his life in a hot, sweaty room filled with musty old textbooks and over-energized students.

The tingling sensation had worn off by the time he had started walking down his street. His mind was numb, unable to accept the occurrences of the day, believing that it must have been an act of his overactive imagination - it was not possible to be invisible.

it was a relief to look down and see his body, solid and defiantly not invisible.

He stopped walking, leaning on the grimy fence that stood opposite  his small semi detached house with a neat flowerbed in the front porch. The heavy curtains were drawn in one of the upstairs rooms, hiding its contents.

His mouth was open, wide and dry, gulping in air as if there were no tomorrow. His eyes were shut as  he tried to calm himself, recovering his breathing.

Gathering  his strength, he pushed himself away from the fence and made his way slowly and nervously towards his own front door, unsure of what he would find behind the block of wood.


It was not home. The rectangular building had not been his home in years - ever since his father had returned.

It used to be the place where he ran around, played with his friends and joked happily with his mother, but that time was over now, it had been taken over by a lonely, desolate place in which he had never seen his mother properly smile.

the happiness had been scratched off the walls with a sharp knife and replaced with a grey, formidable feeling of despair.


He made sure his body was fully retuned before entering the house. It was eerily silent when he pulled his jangling keys out of his bag and began to unlock the door.

The door creaked noisily as he pushed it open and peered anxiously into the dark hall in front of him. He took off his scuffed black school shoes and lined them up against the wall, along with the rest of the collection of shoes.

Throwing his bag down, he moved around in the hallways, looking for any sign of life in the chilling house,

"Hello?" He made his presence clear to anybody nearby. From upstairs, he heard noises, strange muffled yelps and a quiet commotion, followed by a series of whispers. What was going on up there?

A slam of a door. The stamp of booted feet hitting the hard floorboards upstairs. He saw the figure, bold and standing at the top of the stairs and glowering down at him.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was gruff as he made his slow, menacing way down the stairs, his eyes studying him carefully.

"They... they let me out early, " he stuttered, hang his head,  not wanting to look into the poisoned eyes of his father.

"Didn't want you anymore? I don't blame them. I if could get rid of you I would." He bashed into Adam as he marched past, laughing to himself and heading into the kitchen, probably to get himself another beer.

Racing upstairs, Adam began to look his mother, praying to god that she was alright.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...