"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" The chants and jeers of the other children echoed through the playground. Some poor kid was about to get the living daylights beaten out of them. Teachers ran towards the sight of the torment, saviours for the victim.
"GO ON, MOVE ALONG!" bellowed the principal, trying to disperse the students. "Go. To. Class. Alistair." He said sternly. The child hesitantly went back to class. "As for you two, my office. Now."
Tanya POV
Later that day
"MUM!" my older sister Irina ran up our front steps, yelling excitedly.
"What!?" laughed our mother Sasha, pulling her long hair out of her face.
"There was a fight at school today," my youngest sister Kate said quietly.
"Soon Katie," mum said, turning back to Irina.
"I GOT AN A!" she squealed, holding up a marks paper. Our mother cheered and hugged her.
"What did you say sweetie?" She asked Kate.
"He got beaten up again." She said bluntly.
"Who?" Kate pointed to the house across the road from us. "Don't worry, Love, his dad will sort them out, he is the pastor after all." My sister didn't look comforted. "What about you?" She asked me. "how was your day?"
"Good," I replied as I did every day. She smiled and rolled her eyes.
A scream outside interrupted our family moment.
"Why don't we all go watch TV?" mum asked nervously, ushering us into the lounge. The three of us sat on the couch while our mother went back into the kitchen. Craning my neck, I could see her lean out the window in search of the noise. We all waited in our lavishly decorated lounge.
We were a wealthy family, better off than most, but our mother still made us go to public schools. To 'learn to fit in with society', she said. It wasn't so bad though, nobody bothered us and we all got good marks. The other students seemed to like us and we pretty much had the pick of any of the boys in the place. We lived in the 'posh' part of London, surrounded by beautifully well-kept houses and manicured lawns. It was a safe neighbourhood and any of the children in it could play on the streets at any time of day or night without a worry. We were quite close friends with most of the kids on our block, and during the day the mothers and fathers met for lunch, which was probably the reason for our good relationships. We attended church every Sunday, which was led by Pastor Cullen, who lived across the road. We weren't really Christians, but mostly went because it was a tradition enforced in us by our father before he passed and it meant a lot to helped to keep the memory of him real, I guess. Apart from the loss of our father, we had had pretty good childhoods so far, without too much drama. Irina was 13, I was 11, and Kate was 9, although she acted older than her age.
I turned my attention back to the TV. Our mother had come back in to join us. She looked worried.
"What was that about?" Irina asked quietly.
"I'm not sure darling, I couldn't see anything," she replied, tension in her voice. Outside, an angry male voice was yelling abuses. Mother turned the TV up louder. Over the noise, we all heard a dull thump, and then a child whimpering. Mum paled a bit.
"What was that?" Kate asked softly.
"Who has homework to do?" mum enthused, trying to distract us. All three of us moaned and slowly moved to go and fetch it.
Kate POV
I settled into my chair, pulling my books out of my bag and spreading them on the desk in front of me. As the bell rang, a pale blond boy rushed into the room.
"CULLEN!" The teacher growled. The boy caught his foot on the edge of one of the desk and went sprawling onto the floor. His body bent awkwardly as he hit the floor. The teacher stood looming over him. "Get up." He slowly stood. A large bruise covered the side of his face. I didn't think it was from the fall. He looked close to tears. "Sit down." He snarled, pulling out the empty chair beside me. He carefully did, wincing. He whimpered. "And when the bell goes, you can make your way down to the principal's office and tell him you were late for the fourth time in a week." The teachers voice was quiet, but more threatening than when he had been yelling.
"P-please s-sir I-I-I d-didn't mean t-to," the boy stuttered pleadingly.
"SHUT UP AND DO AS YOUR TOLD!" the teacher screamed at him. He flinched and looked down at his hands. They too were bruised and cover in cuts.
As the class went on, I carefully examined him, trying not to let him catch me. He was skinny, really, really skinny, and covered in deep gouges. I shuddered to think what caused those wounds. His skin was littered in purple splotches and his clothes were ripped and torn. He'd pulled his chin-length hair in front of his face, creating a wall between us. Somehow, he was still incredibly cute and I felt drawn to him.
Halfway through our lesson, he wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched forward in his seat. He was shaking violently and had tears streaming down his cheeks.
"What's wrong?" I asked quietly. He shook his head but otherwise didn't move. He stayed like that until the bell went and then hesitantly rose from his seat and disappeared down the hall.
During our break, I again heard the cheers of encouragement for a fight. I didn't understand what they found so appealing about it.
When the bell went, I returned to my seat and prayed that the blond boy wasn't late again. I didn't think he could take much more telling off. He seemed so familiar and I tried to remember where I had seen him before. Cullen. He was the pastor's son. I made a mental note to tell mother he was in my class when I got home.
Thankfully, he arrived on time. He was covered in dirt and dust, and his bruises seemed deeper than before. He had a raw scrape on the side of his face and cradled his arm against him, as though it caused him great pain. He sat down, next to me again.
As the other children filed into the classroom, one boy, Amun I think his name was, pushed all of the boys books onto the ground from the desk and then stood there smirking at him. I wanted to punch him so badly it hurt. The boy reached down to get them, his movements fumbled. While he was leaning forward, Amun pulled the chair out from under him. He fell with full force against the ground, crushing his arm underneath him. He cried out as his weight hit it. Amun laughed cruelly and kicked him hard in the ribs before shoving his books away further and returning to his seat. The rest of the class stifled giggles and whispered to the friend excitedly.
I gathered his things off the floor and put them back on his desk. He slowly picked himself up and I wondered how many times he'd had to do that today. As he sat back in his chair he choked back sob, tears running down his face.
As the door opened and an adult came in, he quickly looked down, as if to hide his misery. It wasn't the teacher though, it was our mother.
"Come on Katie," she beckoned me. "We're going to go have lunch with your cousins." Although I loved my cousins and would have usually jumped at the chance to see them, today I was hesitant. I didn't want to leave the boy by himself.
Sasha POV
As we all climbed into the family car, my youngest child asked me; "What Mr Cullen's sons name?" she didn't sound confident which was unusual for her. I strained my memory.
"…Carlisle, I think." Yes, that sounded right. "Why?"
"He got hurt today," she whispered. I could barely hear her. I had to stop myself from flinching. That child was always getting hurt. He was beaten at home, bullied at school, incredibly under-fed and usually sick when I saw him. So much for being the pastor's son. That man was a beast, although not many people in our town realised it. "He'll be okay," I assured her even though I didn't believe it myself. I would be surprised if the poor thing survived made it through the year. I had to do something. Soon.
As we pulled up in my sister's driveway, the eldest two quickly raced from the car in search of their favourite cousins. Kate, however, remained sitting in the backseat.
"What's the matter honey?"
"Mummy?"
"Yes love?"
"Why does the devil run the church?" I shushed her.
"Katie, I know he's a bad man, but you mustn't talk like that around other people okay? You could get us all in a lot of trouble."
"Yes mummy," she said, looking down at her lap.
"Hey," I said, pulling her onto my knee. "He's not going to hurt you, I won't let him."
"But you let him hurt Carlisle." She got off my lap and ran off into the house. Although she struggled to say his name and it sounded kind of sweet, her words cut deep. I knew she was right, buti couldn't just take him, could I?
