Page 36 of Hate Like Ours


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“Gee, thanks, asshole. Are you stalking me or are you blind or some shit? You’re never here early!” I snap at him.

“And how would you know that? Unless you’re the one stalking me,” he says with a snicker.

“As if. But it’s just fucking funny how the one day I’m here super early, you’re somehow here too,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Hmm, isn’t that funny,” he drawls in that bored tone of his. I don’t know why he even bothered to come annoy me if he was just going to act like he’s an uninterested royal asshole.

“Your daddy must be so proud of the asshole he raised!” I grit through clenched teeth. His presence right now is making me super pissed, which is not uncommon when he’s around.

In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of me, with his hand around my neck again. Ugh. The bruises on my neck from our time in the woods were just starting to fade.

“Watch what the fuck you say to me, bitch!” he snaps in a deadly tone.

“No, I will not! You can’t just be a fucking prick and not expect me to defend myself, dickhead!”

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, whore!” he growls.

“How would you know if I’m a whore or not? You’ve never been between my legs to fuck me, asshole, and you never will be either!” I growl right back.

“Oh, I like a good challenge. Don’t act like you wouldn’t jump on my dick the first chance you got. I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you stare at me like a cow in heat, just salivating for my cock,” he whispers in a low and cocky tone. One that has me clenching my thighs together.What the fuck is wrong with me? I shouldn’t like being degraded like this. I am a fucking masochist.

“Don’t flatter yourself. No one would salivate over your crusty dick!”

I expect him to lash out at me for calling his dick crusty since it probably is. Guys like him are always the fuckboy types, hopping from pussy to pussy without giving a shit. With the amount of girls I’ve already seen throwing themselves at him… yeah, definite crusty dick.

“Challenge accepted, fat ass,” he says before shoving me back against the locker one more time and then begins to walk away.

“It wasn’t a challenge, asswipe!” I snap at his retreating form. Why does he have to be so fucking infuriating?

Classes haven’t even started yet for the day and I’m already pissed beyond measure. He’s in the next few classes I have this morning, so without putting too much thought into it, I decide I’m just going to skip class this morning. I don’t want to have another run-in with the asshole.

School was always my happy place but now it’s the opposite. It’s the place that is now slowly killing me. Being in Riverside makes me want to skip school for the rest of my life.

I walk in the opposite direction of where my class is. When I get to the end of the hallway, I make a right and keep walking until I spot a door with the exit sign above it.

I quickly make my way through the door. Once I step outside, I realize that I’m at the back of the school.

It’s empty as expected and for that I’m pleased. The fewer people I have to deal with, the less humiliation I’ll face. The students here are all assholes.

There are a few small buildings here in the back and they all look empty. One of them is a flat building with three rooms and as I walk over and pass the doors, I look in. It’s rooms with old and discarded furniture and equipment.

The last room looks like it might have been an old music room. I turn the knob but it’s locked. I walk around to the back of the building and see that the window is open. Hmm, I wonder if people usually come back here?

I don’t give it another thought as I throw my bag inside and then climb up and through the window. Once I’m inside, I move around some of the furniture to create a little fort so that I can sit behind it in case any of the teachers pass by.

The room has enough light that I can spend a few hours in here. I’m definitely not going back to class anytime soon. I’m tired of being taunted and called names for no apparent reason besides the fact that I exist.

When I’ve made myself comfortable. I take my sketch book out of my bag, beginning a new sketch. I get lost in my drawing as soon as the pencil hits the paper. The sketch consumes me and I know I won’t be able to stop until I finish it.

Besides studying, drawing is another passion of mine. It’s the only other thing that keeps my mind occupied whenever I’m stressed.

I usually get so lost in a drawing that when I start. I’m barely aware of what’s happening around me. Most of my drawings are usually people, sometimes nature or whatever inspires me at that moment. They’ve always been light and made me feel good.

When I look down at what I’ve created, it looks like how the rest of them do lately. It’s much darker and edgier and not at all like how I used to draw.

Maybe it’s because of how I’ve changed so much in such a short amount of time. I no longer feel light and carefree like I used to when I finally felt like myself again, after my first bout of depression when I was younger. I no longer believe that people will treat you good just because you’re nice to them. I no longer believe that having a good heart is all it takes for people to treat you like you would treat them.

My life wasn’t all roses and sunshine. There were many times where I’d worry about my parents, especially when they were fighting. But it’s been a while since I felt this dark cloud looming over me like I do now, and my drawings reflect that. It kind of scares me.

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