I Just Wanna Run (Marcel Fanfic)

Marcel Styles;

school target,

bully magnet,

human punching bag.

And done with all of it.

14Likes
8Comments
2217Views
AA

3. Chapter 3

"Marcel." He smirked.

"What do you want Damon?" I asked, trying not to sound weak.

"Nothing Styles. Why you always gotta assume I want something?" He leaned his head to his shoulder.

I shrugged and stared down at my feet, silently praying he would just leave. 

But that wasn't the case.

"C'mon Damon just get this over with." One of his tall, jerk friends interrupted the awkward pause.

"No, please, I'll do anything." I begged, looking up at everyone. "Please don't hurt me."

My eyes were wide with fear and my knees began shaking. It's sad that I'm this terrified of my once-best friend. But he isn't afraid to start a fight in front of his group. Actually, it's technically not a fight. He just punches me and I'm too weak to defend myself. They all laugh at me and make fun of me until I start crying. I try not to cry though. I'm not that weak. Surprisingly, he's never been caught. And I'm almost thankful for that. If a teacher or staff member found me in a terrible condition, they would immediately send me to the nurse, who would call my mom and explain what happened. Like I said, I don't need her stressing out more than she already is. 

Damon glanced around at his friends and then down at me. I could tell he was debating about something. Probably about beating me up or just letting me free. He almost looked sorry for me. But then I realized it was Damon I was talking about. He didn't feel bad for me. He didn't feel bad for anyone.

Then he lifted his arm up and made a fist above his head. I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut, expecting the worst. The lunchroom was now silent and I could easily guess everyone was watching us. I waited a few seconds but I didn't feel any fist come in contact with my face. Maybe he was waiting until I wasn't expecting it. I carefully opened one eye and saw him drop his arm to his side.  

"Outta my way Styles." He used his two large hands and shoved me against the wall. Not too forcefully though. It felt like a hug compared to what had been done to me before. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. He disappeared out the door, while his friends followed. I stood up and rubbed my shoulder that hit the wall. It was a bit sore, but it didn't worry me. 

I didn't look up to see everyone's eyes on me. It was so quiet, you would've heard a pin drop. I quickly ran out of the room, hiding my bright red cheeks. I was still in shock from what just happened. Damon could actually have a heart somewhere in that black hole of his. 

Maybe I was just going insane.

I went on in my day with my head hanging low. I didn't want to be noticed. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to get beat up. My thoughts traveled into the deep, dark, scary parts of my brain. They seemed like my only friend lately. I pushed them away but they would keep coming back. It was becoming annoying. 

At the end of the day, I was glad I could have a break. It had been an interesting day. Luckily, I didn't have to make up any excuses for any injuries or bruises. I shouldn't have to worry about Damon or his friends or any bullies for the weekend. 

I walked out of school and made my way down the familiar path I took to get to school. It was a quiet but pleasant walk. A few birds chirped at my presence and I smiled as I wondered what they were actually saying. Maybe they were just saying hello. Maybe they were just talking to each other. I guess I'll never know. The tree branches swayed with the breeze while the sun peeked out from the leaves at random times. A squirrel or two scattered up the trunk of the tree. The grass tickled my ankles as I slowed down my pace. I could've stayed here forever. It was complete bliss. 

When I reached home, I found my key and unlocked the back door again. I threw my backpack over the washer and heard my mom on the phone in the other room. She sounded kind of angry. I slipped off my shoes and walked into the kitchen where she was pacing back and forth. I gave her a wave and she returned a small smile. She sighed into the phone and turned her back to me.

"Yeah, look Marcel just got home. I'll call you later." She hung up and set her phone down on the counter.

"Who was that?" I asked, curiously.

"Nobody." She shook her head. "Just someone from work."

I knew she was lying to me but I didn't want to push her. She would just get mad at me and tell me to go to my room. I wasn't really in the mood to find out anyway.

"So how was school?" She interrupted my thoughts.

"It was okay, I guess." I shrugged and sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. When I think about it, I don't believe I've ever had a 'good day' at school. My answer has always been just 'okay', or 'fine', or 'normal'.

She smiled at me and I tried to smile back. I could tell she was really putting in an effort to act like something wasn't on her mind. But I wasn't going to bug her about it.

"How was your day?" I tapped my fingers on the counter. I knew all she did was fill out forms and call people all day but it was just polite to ask.

"Boring. It involved a bunch of paper work and boring adult things."

For once, I was glad I wasn't an adult yet. I enjoyed my youth as much as I could. Not counting high school of course. That was the one thing I agreed to forget in my future. I wouldn't mention it to anyone. It would be my secret. My terrible, horrible secret. 

I stood up and walked over to my mom. She looked exhausted, confused and stressed at the same time. I could tell by the bags under her eyes. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. 

"I love you Mom." I whispered into her ear.

"I love you too Marcel." She smiled and turned around to look at me. "You've turned into a excellent young man."

I smiled at her, a real true smile. Her eyes lit up like they used to, years ago. When we were a family. But even now, just her and I, are still a family.

"I can't believe how much taller you are then me." She looked up at me.

"Okay, enough with the mushy, gushy stuff Mom." I laughed and she laughed along. 

I hadn't heard her laugh in months. It was nice to hear it again. 

"I'm going to go take a short nap." She started walking to the stairs. "I'll come back down and make dinner-"

"No, no, no. Let me do it." I suggested. "You go take your nap and I'll call you down when it's ready." 

"Oh, okay," was all she said. I didn't know why she seemed so surprised. This wasn't the first nice thing I've done for her.

I smiled slightly at her, which she did back and rubbed her eyes. Then she disappeared up the stairs and I turned around to see what I could make for us. The cupboards were practically empty at this time. My hand ran over some dust on the top shelf. A few particles got up my nose, making me cough. Well, there obviously wasn't anything up there. 

I found a box of spaghetti sitting by the oven and shrugged, thinking it wouldn't be that hard. My mom liked pasta anyway. I don't ever remember having to cook for her before. I hope she likes it. 

There were some fancy plates stacked in a cupboard along with some table settings. Might as well make it look good. I pulled them out, carefully, and set up our small table. The candles flickered in the center, filling the room with a scent of vanilla. The napkins were folded neatly, with silverware laying on top. I even put a vase in the middle with a fresh rose from a larger bouquet. There, our seating was ready.

I began boiling the water over the heated surface. The bubbles increased, floating to the top and popping. At least I didn't burn the water. I wasn't a complete failure, I laughed to myself. After a few minutes, I shook the pasta out of the box and into the steaming water. It slowly warmed up and fell into the pot in a heap. I found an old wooden spoon and stirred the noodles around. 

This reminded me of when I nearly burned my hand on the stove when I was younger. My mother was stirring the noodles while I was sitting on the floor, playing with whatever entertained me. She ran to get the phone and my curiosity got the best of me. Although, my head barely reached the top of the oven. I glanced over to see my mother busy chatting on the phone. My arm reached over the stove and felt around. I needed to know what was up there for some strange reason. My fingers brushed against a heated surface and before I could move any further, my mom caught me.

"Marcel!" She shouted. I quickly moved my hand away and flushed with embarrassment. Her face went from worried to sympathetic. 

"Don't ever put your hands up there, okay?" She warned me in a soft voice. 

I nodded and hid my hands behind my back. I had never gotten in trouble before and I didn't enjoy the feeling. Never again did I play with the stove. And now I was the one cooking.

The spaghetti!

I quickly regained my thoughts and tried stirring the pasta again. It was now stuck to the side of the dish and tougher than noodles should be. Crap, I overcooked the spaghetti. Great. I took the pot and spilled the water into the sink, and then dumped the noodles in the trash. So much for that. 

I pulled out the phone book and dialed the first pizza place I could find. The guy on the other end told me it would be ready in 20 minutes. At least it would let my mom sleep longer. 

When the pizza arrived, I opened the front door and paid the guy. Even added a tip. I carried the large box into the kitchen and realized how decorative it was just for pizza. She wouldn't mind, I suppose. I laid the box on the table and went upstairs to wake my mother. As I opened the door, I peeked in and saw her sleeping peacefully. She was snoring lightly with her lips parted and her hair covering her face. I couldn't wake her now. She looked so exhausted earlier and it would only make her more tired if I woke her now. I went with my conscious and shut the door quietly behind me.

Once I was downstairs, I sat at my perfectly placed table and pulled a slice of pizza out of the box. I chewed slowly while I stared at the empty chair opposite of me. It would always be empty. I was getting so used to being alone, it was almost scary. I needed some friends, or at least someone to talk to. My subconscious and I aren't exactly partners in life. I need to speak whats on my mind too.

I finished two and a half pieces of pizza before I closed the box and stored it in the fridge. It will be a good lunch for her tomorrow. I washed my dishes and placed them back where they were sitting before. The rose stayed in it's vase while I bent over and blew out the candle, making the light dim. 

I walked up to my room and changed into something comfortable for bed. The sky was dark but sparkling with stars. There was a full moon out tonight too. Especially bright. My fingers skimmed over my old bookshelf, searching for an evening read. I landed on The Great Gatsby and pulled it out, brushing the dust off. I fairly enjoyed this one.

After curling up under my covers, I held the pages delicately while turning them and reading until my eyes couldn't stay open. I shut off the lamp and set my glasses on the nightstand. The moonlight lit up my bedroom but somehow it was calming. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.  

 

(Sorry this one took so long! I've been super busy with getting ready for school. (: Thank you so much for reading!)

 

 

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