I felt my face grow hotter and hotter as my temper rose. I was just sitting there, letting another class period go by. I tried to do the English assignment Ms. Maxell had given us but I just couldn't take away my ears from the laughs, whispers, and thoughts from the people around me. My heart was beating faster and I began to wonder if there was a warranty on an exploded heart. I could actually feel the blood rush through my veins as a light slap was produced on my skin.

I turned around and saw exactly who I expected, Mike Hatchet. Mike was the most popular guy in school, and I guess he got his kicks from verbally torturing me. Maybe messing with the losers is how he stays on top. I don't really know, or care, why he does the cruel things he does.

"Hey Sean, nice pants you're wearing! Are they from the 50s?" I heard Mike say. He and his group of friends (more like followers) laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. I just watched their smiling faces with hatred. Oh that's really funny! I thought.

I will admit, my pants are not the newest style, but they are my favorite out of the only 3 I own. I'm not the richest guy, obviously, but at least I have clothes. I've worn these pants since last year, so they have holes and stains. Everyone in school knows that all my clothes are 1 year or older.

"What's your problem, Mike?" I shot back at his grinning, perfectly structured face. He gave me a challenging look. I said nothing. He walked over to me, his gold chain blinding me.

"What did you say, punk?" He pushed me back against the wall and I wondered if I was going to die. If we did fight, I know I would be no match for him. He could probably take me out in a second.

"I said, `What's your problem?'" I was surprised how smooth my voice came out, not as shaky as I'd expected. He glared at me and I gave a quick glance at the teacher to see if she saw. She was at her desk, ignoring the comments and cheers around me. Why isn't she helping me? Is she scared of Mike? How can she not notice or hear the cheers of the others? Thoughts were pouring in my mind faster then I could blink.

Mike came about 2in. from my face and I knew he saw the fear in my eyes. It all happened in slow motion. He raised his fist and sent it slamming into my jaw. I felt it crack and a bolt of pain shot through my mouth. I could feel the warmth of the blood as it slid down my neck. I returned a punch and I saw a few drops of blood fly from his mouth. I think maybe I had knocked out a tooth. No, I didn't think, I hoped. Before any of us got a chance to take another swing, Ms. Maxell was between us, shouting for the fighting to cease. I stared down at the floor, watching the puddle of blood around me grow bigger.

A few other teachers had come in now, and a janitor was mopping up the blood with an expressionless face. Mike was screaming, jerking his body around in hopes to get the teachers to stop holding him back. No one was holding me back, so I just watched Mike thrash around until the teachers hauled him into the office to see the principal.

I felt my jaw again and a bolt of pain hit me. I decided it was broken and waited for treatment.

A few weeks later, I was back in school and everything went back to normal. Well, if you call getting picked on and having death thoughts normal, then my life has returned to normal. Sometimes I wonder how my life got this way. I was never a popular person, but no one has a reason to laugh at me because of my clothes. I'm a pretty nice guy once you get to know me and I even had a girlfriend last year. She broke up with me after she saw that I wore the same pants twice in a row. Now guess who she goes out with? None other then Mike Hatchet. She says that maybe if I brushed my hair and get brown highlights in it, she might date me again. I actually don't want her though, that might start another fight with Mike and that's the last thing I want.

As I walk down the hallway, I can feel the stares of everyone and hear the laughs that follow. I walked into the bathroom, not letting the tears escape my eyes. As I peered into the mirror, I suddenly realized that it was too quiet in here. I looked around and into the stalls. No one was here, but I still felt as if someone was watching me, waiting for something. I had the urge to run out of the bathroom, away from the evil I felt lurking in here. I chuckled at the thought of the school's loser running out of the boy's bathroom screaming bloody murder. They'd probably think I was attacked by the toilet or something.

After all my thoughts had collected into a big ball of mush in my brain, I started to walk out the door. I felt someone grab my shirt from the back and drag me into a stall. I was quiet, mostly because I had expected this to happen. I looked up after the person had dragged me into the stall and saw an older teen that I had not recognized. He looked about 17, with black hair, black eyes, and pale skin.

"Who are you?" I asked, almost in a clam voice. I could tell by the look of his face that he thought I might've screamed or something. He looked down at me, still gripping my neck tightly. He sighed, looking at the bathroom door. "You know that we're both tardy, right?" Why I said that, I don't know. Maybe to break the tension that had built up.

"What a geek!" He laughed loudly, but his words did not affect me. I have heard that comment almost all my life, so it was just like saying "hi." to me. "I'm here to kill you."

"What?!" I gasped louder then the sound of an exploded plane. He just grinned and took out the pocket knife from his jacket.

"I'm here to slice open your neck and let your blood wash the floors."

+I reall think this story can turn into something good. It's actually for an English assignment, but a story is a story!+