You were never the most popular kid in school. Then again, how surprising was that? Never one to be in the trends, (or even be too social, for that matter) you were a bully favorite. Here and there, a rumor would fly, someone would call you fat (fatty and fatso were also other favorites) and play stupid little pranks (like somehow managing to fill your locker with rocks, however they managed to do that). You didn’t let it bother you too much. After all, it was just words. So far, nobody seemed to have enough bully in them to go pushing you around, though they liked to block your path and insult you. Maybe even a shoulder shove here and there, but it wasn’t too bad. Or so you convinced yourself.
Another day of school passed and you walked home, per the usual. You used to take the bus, but after multiple songs about ugly people and sticking gum wads in your (h/c) (h/l) hair, your mother insisted you walk home. No protesting there, but there was always a feeling of being watched when you walked home. At first it had scared you to death. Had someone finally worked up the nerve to beat you to a pulp, like in your books? Even so, nothing had ever actually happened, so after two or three weeks, you stopped caring. You even made it a good thing, pretending that your follower was a guardian angel or maybe even someone who had a crush on you, but was too shy to speak to you.
Glancing back at the thoughts of your invisible friend, you were only slightly disappointed to still not see a thing. Whoever it was, they were good at hiding or blending in. Mood being uplifted with each step you took with your “partner”, you began to sing. Softly at first, but rising to the point where you hoped your follower would hear. You used to take classes in singing and, not to brag or anything, but you were pretty damn sure you had a good singing voice.
Trotting up the front steps to your house, you glanced down the road again, ever hoping to catch a glimpse of your unknown friend. What you did see made your blood flush cold and eyes widen. Three of your bullies from school were walking down the road, eyes on you and you were also quite sure that there was a knife glinting in one of their hands.
You quickly unlocked the door, burst inside, and locked it again. What made things worse was your mom worked late hours. You weren’t to expect her home until 9. A series of small whimpers escaped your throat as you leaned against the door, trying to figure out what you could do. Calling the police was a good start, but what if something went wrong? They killed you before the police could get here. They could avoid getting any penalties and start harassing you worse and then kill you!
Three loud, harsh knocks on the wooden door nearly made you jump out of your skin and fall onto the floor. Well, you did fall on the floor, but thankfully, it wasn’t too loud. “Hey, queen fatass! Get out here! We want to have a little talk...” you heard one say. You were half tempted to spite them, but they were armed and in a group. You were unarmed, untrained in fighting, and alone. Grabbing your bag, you scurried to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as possible, while they yelled insults and threats at you through the door.
.: ??? POV :.
Watching (Name) walk home was possibly one of my favorite hobbies, next to killing, of course. It was such a pity that she’d probably freak out if she saw my face. Everyone else did, after all. I really don’t get that though, I’m beautiful! What’s so horrific about my mouth cuts and lack of eyelids? My white skin and black hair is to die for! (Ohoho... That’s really clever~)
Anyways, (Name) is just as beautiful, though maybe, someday, I can make her as beautiful as me. I grin from my hiding spot as she looks around hopefully. I was surprised the first time I followed her, her (e/c) eyes looking around for me in fear. How in the world she knew I was onto her so fast was a mystery. In fact, I do admit it’s the only thing that saved her life. I got so curious about her. Had to learn more about her. So I did. Imagine my joy when I learned she was practically an outcast. Only two close friends, father far away doing work, a mother who works late hours... It was like the world made her just for me!
Then there were the bullies. The wretched creatures that seemed to take pleasure in insisting that my little knife (a much better endearing term, if I do say so myself) was fat and ugly. It didn’t matter too much, since they’d all be sleeping in the ground soon, but it was rather difficult. They were like damned pack animals, wandering in herds and eating their “comfort food” by the truckloads.
While I was watching over the last part of my little knife’s walk home, I saw them. While the three were unfamiliar to me, knifey seemed to panic and rush inside her home. Bullies? My permanent grin widened. Perfect! My killing of those horrid bullies of my dear knife will get to begin today!
Hopping down from my seat in a tree in the neighbor’s yard (my favorite, since it had so many damn leaves), I looked for a way to get their attention on me. Much as I’d love to show my face and leave her enemies dead on her doorstep, (Name) didn’t need that right now.
Spotting a fair sized rock, I picked it up, pulled my hood down over my face, and tossed it, squarely landing on one of their heads. “Hey!” I heard one yell. To make sure they’d fully take the bait, I raised my hands, each making the middle finger, and ran off. “Get him!” Yes, yes, just follow me...