"Hey!" I heard, as I was stopped at my locker. Of course, I reconized the voice. I didn't turn around, hoping he was talking to someone else. It was the middle of second class, and the halls were empty; I just forgot my textbook. I knew this, yet I still stared into my locker, wishing someone would interrupt, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I heard him get closer, and when I realized someone was with him, I felt my stomach drop.

"Did you fucking hear me? Butterball!" Mike yelled, accompanied by two people laughing. I turned to look, and sure enough, Mike Newton was stalking towards me, Tyler Crowley and James Holcheck in tow. I grimaced at their goofy yet sinister smiles.

"Does anyone else find it funny he answers to 'Butterball'?" Mike laughed, earning nods from his little sheep. I took a deep breath, and closed my locker, before turning away from them. I managed to take two steps, before I heard Mike again, this time angrier.

"I'm pretty fucking sure I'm talking to you." I instantly froze at the malice in his voice, but still didn't turn around. "Mike, I-I'm going b-b-back to c-class okay? T-that's all." I managed to stammer out, embarassment flooding through me thanks to my unfortunate stutter. I turned slightly, just in time to see James' trademark twisted smirk appear on his face. "Nah... We wanna talk."

The three of them stopped about six feet in front of me, Mike in the center and a few inches in front of James and Tyler, like the leader of a wolf pack. I grit my teeth, trying to not show fear. I knew damn well they didn't want to just talk. This has been ongoing for years -twelve years, to be exact- nothing was going to change over night. I turned completely towards them, not wanting to anger them more. What I ever did to them, I don't know.

"W-what would you like to t-talk about?" I asked politely, well aware of my shaky voice. I was shifting my weight from foot to foot when Tyler grinned. Of course, they noticed me doing it. "Are you seriously to fat to stand?" Tyler quipped. I didn't say anything. I dropped my gaze to the floor, once again feeling heat come up to my face and neck. Mike and James laughed, but then Mike gave Tyler a look to shut him up. As much as he loves having backup, he always wants to be in the spotlight.

"So, Butterball. I, uh, drove past your place last night. Around, ah, I dunno... seven maybe? Lights were off. Kinda early to go to bed, ain't it?" Mike tilted his head at me. I could feel the blood reach my ears, causing that prickly feeling. By now, my glasses were fogged up from my laboured breathing. I knew exactly where this was going. "Maybe," Mike continued, "Just maybe, your trailor trash drunk of a mom didn't pay the bills again." Anger burned inside me at that comment, and Mike knew it. They can say anything about me, I'm used to it. But leave my mother out of it. However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't also feel embarassed. He was right. They bills had gone unpaid. It wasn't even close to being the first time. And unfortunately, in small towns like Forks, people notice things. And talk is cheap. Most people wouldn't say it to me, not even other bullies. It was a low blow. But Mike? He thrived off of it. James and Tyler sure didn't care either. They got more of a reaction -which they wanted- when they spoke ill of my mother. She didn't deserve that. Regardless of what she's done, to me, herself, or in general, she was still my mom.

I couldn't be too surprised Mike said that, of course it would upset me. It would upset anyone. Even though I had a part time job (emphasis on 'part time'), there was no way I could help with the bills. Mom wouldn't let me. I didn't know any of her account details, and it's not like I could slip money into her wallet. She'd notice. She'd know that's not her money because she knows where her money goes. She's just in denial, I think. I get it- she wants to feel like she can do it on her own, without a man. Ever since my father left, she acts like she has something to prove. But I just wish I could tell her I'd be happy to help. That I'm embarassed. That being poor is fuel for Mike and them.

That alcohol won't solve her problems.

"Well?" Mike snapped, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Well n-nothing," I retorted, crossing my arms. "I-I was out." My blush gave me away, and we both knew it. Mike nodded, in a sarcastic way, while James took a step closer. He asked me where I was, and I said work. James smirked and said, "So... You, the child, were at work, while mama, the adult, went barhopping? Or maybe she went gambling, you know, to spice things up. Sloppy fuckin' drunk."

Oh boy. "Don't talk about my mom. She was at work too, actually." Another lie.

"Dude... and I'm not even trying to be rude, for once, but how can you be poor and fat?" Tyler asked, sounding serious. The other two goblins laughed, while Mike shot back, "Probably ate their way into poverty. Ever see his mom? Land whale!"

"Sh-shut the f-fuck up!" And that, is exactly what I shouldn't have said.

The three boys looked at each other and grinned. After scanning the hall, for, presumably teachers, all three lunged over and grabbed me, before pulling. My attempt to fight back did not work. I was big, yes. But they were strong. How the fuck did no teachers hear us? I was calling out, my voice muffled from Mike's arm on my throat. Teachers need to keep their doors open, or something. After accepting that no one could hear me- or nobody cared, I stopped calling out and focused on getting away. It wasn't working, but then they stopped. Tyler let go of me. I froze, thinking they had given up for once. Looking up at Tyler, my eyes widened. I had been wrong. So wrong. We were in front of a small custodian's closet, and Tyler only let go of me so he could open the door. Once opened, he grabbed a hold of me again, obnoxiously waggling his bushy eyebrows. Mike grabbed me by the front of my sweaty shirt and looked me dead in the eye. "Don't you ever tell me to shut up. Don't you ever disrespect us again." He let go of my shirt, and plucked my glasses off my face. I squinted and winced from the sudden change. I heard a snap and horror flood through me. I instantly thought of how much those cost., how I'll afford a new pair, if I have my old spare ones...

"My glasses..." I whispered, tears threatening to fall. "Sure man, you want 'em?" Mike asked sweetly before slamming my mangled frames on my outstretched hand, effectively piercing through my palm with the glass. Before I could even let out a peep, or react for that matter, they shouted "Three!" and I felt myself strumbling into the closet, hitting the back wall. I knocked over bottles and a mop, and my mouth went dry when I heard laughter. All I could hear were hoots and hollers. I closed my eyes in pain, from my hand, and humiliation. Of course, my body had to disobey me and let out an almost silent sob.

"Hey," Mike whispered. "Shut the fuck up, fatass." And with that, he closed the door. Seeing this as my shot to leave, I instinctively dropped my broken glasses, and let out a howl of pain when the glass tore a little more flesh. More tears came as I tried to feel around with my good hand. I was hoping to find the light, or even better, the door. Before I could find either, I heard the unmistakable sound of something being jammed into the handle echo in my tiny space. I froze and silently accepted my situation. They won. I wanted to cry, but I tried to be quiet. I knew they were still there, I could hear their muffled voices. I strained my ears, trying to listen.

"...did you see his face?"

"...he cried, again!"

"...surprised he can still fit in there..."

"...the fuck does he think he is?!"

"...not our fault he's a loser."

I took a deep, shaky breath and clenched my fists, wanting to scream in frustration and pain. I didn't think the cuts were very deep, but I could feel the glass in me, which was disturbing. I could feel the blood drip from my palm, and down my fingers, onto the floor. If I had my glasses I could inspect and wrap it.

I backed up to the wall opposite of the door, and sank to the floor. At this point, I was a blubbering mess. Tears were pouring freely, my whole body shaking. I couldn't control my cries of anguish. I put my hands over my ears when I leard loud laughter from just beyond the door, but it didn't help. I know they heard me.

What did I do? Why am I being... punished? By the world, by God? Can't I catch a break? I didn't hurt anyone, I never did anything bad... I'm sorry if I was bad. Please! Why can't I just be left alone? I'm sorry. For whatever I did... I must have been some bad in a past life to deserve this.

I put my head between my legs, trying to clear my thoughts, trying to figure out what to do, how I felt.

Ashamed. I felt ashamed to be alive.