We Call it Love.

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We Call it Love.

Post  dohegotthebooty on Wed Nov 09, 2011 6:06 am

Part 1:


My name is Raven. I can't read, I can't write, I can't add, subtract, divide, or multiply. I'm illiterate, stupid, dumb, retarded. Why do I even waste my time with school? I don't know anything, so why should I bother going? My parents are dead, so they can't say anything about it, and even if they were still here and alive, then I'd probably be half dead by now. Wanna know why? Too bad, I don't want to tell you. Not now anyway.

I'm a 16 year old boy, and I'm in eighth grade. Again. I wouldn't dare open my mouth around anyone. My speech is awful, I can't even speak in complete sentences, but my mind..... in my mind, I can speak perfectly fine, why can't my mouth do the same?

The thing on my nightstand had been going off again. I forgot what it was called, but it sure was loud. I'll figure out what it's called later, I'm sure I will. The sun was coming up, and that meant I had to get ready for school. I really hated school, because I was bullied. Yeah, funny huh? A 16 year old eighth grader getting bullied by a bunch of kinds younger than him. Shut up. I didn't know how to stand up for myself, but then again, what did I know how to do?

It's Thursday. I wish it was Friday, because I'd be able to stay home, and be alone. I like being alone, but sometimes it brought back painful memories. "School...." My voice trailed off while I pulled on a pair of jeans that hadn't been clean for three weeks. None of my clothes were clean. I don't know how to clean.

After a few minutes of walking, I came up to the school. I only lived down the street, unfortunately. "Hey, Raven! Didja bathe today?" I knew that voice. I swear I did, and I could guarantee you it was the man I hated the most. Andy Underwood. Whatever. I didn't care. I was used to hearing things like that. I just wish he, and everyone else would just die. They don't deserve a life, if all they're going to do is waste it picking on me. "Late..." I whispered, as I walked down the hall, heading towards my first class of the day. Literature.

"Now, who would like to read? Raven, would you like to read the first page for us?" The teacher asked me. Hell no, I wouldn't like to read the first page of nothing, to anybody. Especially not to the people in my class, but instead of trying my best to read, and make a fool out of myself, I simply shook my head and closed my book. "Well, why not?" The teacher asked. "It's because he can't read!" One student called out.

Real funny Jody, but at least I wasn't a slut.

Why was everyone laughing at me? It wasn't funny. It's nowhere near funny. My eyes were burning. I was going to cry. As I fought the tears, I stood up and headed to the classroom door. I wanted to go home. "Where ya goin', dummy? Class ain't over, what? You can't tell time either?" Jody called out again.

Yeah, fuck you, Jody. I hope you die.

I left the classroom, but I still heard the laughter. Even if I tried to run from it, I would still hear it in the back of my head. Why? Why did I have to be the one? The one that was abused as a young child? Illiterate since birth? Retarded and left to fend for myself? It wasn't fair. I should have been dead, and you know what? I'd be much happier dead, rather than living this life.

I left the school with the mindset that I was not coming back, and I wasn't, I didn't even want to go back to the pigsty of a house I lived in. So, I walked around, and found myself walking inside of a bookstore.

"Greetings, Sir." A man behind the counter greeted me.

His smile.... it was so welcoming. I've never seen anything like it before. I liked it. Wait, no, I loved it.

I waved, instead of saying anything, walked towards the man, and set my hands on the counter. "Greetings." I simply repeated after him. He looked down at my bruised hands and frowned. The beatings that I received every other day from the kids at my school left bruises all over my body. "Those bruises.... what happened?"

I looked down, shook my head, and walked towards the door. Why would he care? Even if I wanted to tell him, I wouldn't be able to.

"Hey, wait. Come back.... please?"

I've never heard such calm words like that, a day in my life. So, I did what he asked. I turned on my heels and watched him walk towards me. "Is something wrong? He asked me.

"No." I managed to say something without my voice sounding as if I were about to cry, because I sure as hell was about to. I feel the burning in my eyes.


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._.
Don't ask. It's just a stupid, horrible story I just randomly thought up.
But, if you guys like it, I'll write more.
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dohegotthebooty
you're getting there.

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