1

I was crashing. That's what it felt like. The energy that had been built up inside of my body-that had spread to my limbs, making me feel as if there was nothing in the world I couldn't accomplish-was fading quickly with each sharp blow. I was cornered by the parking lot, and this was usually how it played out. The best thing to do is to cry out every time you get hit, so they know they're hurting you, and maybe cry a little to make them think they're job's done. Jock's aren't all that smart, after all. They're easily fooled by this tactic, and I've used it plenty of times.

The energy I described came from a strategic power drink, packed full of vitamins, minerals, all that good stuff. There were some sugars too, but I couldn't remember clearly what was all in it. I'd read it first, though. I'd never put something into my body if I didn't know what was in it. As soon as it had registered that they'd seen me and were, in fact, chasing me, I had downed the bottle and took off. It was marvelous at first, but it didn't help in the end. Because here I was again, and here they were again. Come here often? and Yes, all the time. It wasn't any different either.

I played it up so they'd end early, and they laughed and mocked me. They mimicked my voice when I yelped sharply at a particularly rough jab to my ribs. I kept my eyes tightly closed so I wouldn't have to see them. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't curse at them; so I wouldn't tell them off and make it worse.

Like always, they dropped me, laughing as they walked off, and I could only lay there, probably bleeding somewhere and bruised everywhere. The only difference this time was that when I opened my eyes, I could see someone watching. A student, and a male, by the looks of his uniform. Why hadn't they helped me? Why had they just stood by-God, why were they still standing by? It was bad enough I was constantly bullied, and that my roommate was a psycho, but now there were people who liked to watch me get beaten to a bloody pulp. If indeed that was what I resembled. I stared at their form as they leaned against the wall before I blacked out. Later I vaguely remember a prefect escorting me to the nurse, and when I woke up my everything hurt, and I was in the dorm.

2

After school again.

I was standing cautiously at the front doors, looking out at the school yard. Occasionally someone would push past me, irritated that I was blocking the doors. No bullies appeared to be in sight, so I began my walk for the boy's dormitories. I didn't know what it was about me, but people liked to pick on me in general. They liked to sneer at me in the halls, liked to laugh when I was tripped. Maybe it was because I was such an easy target. I didn't really have any friends. I hung out alone at the library because I thought that at least the nerds might talk to me if I went there enough. But they only thought it was pathetic, and they taunted me just like everybody else.

It was ridiculous, how much the student body disliked me. It was only proof of how far down on the food chain I actually was. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that it would all be different when I finally graduated. I would go on to a successful college where nobody knew who I was, and I'd make something of myself. I wouldn't need people. I'd only allow them my company if they wanted it.

My train of thought was interrupted when I saw a small group of jocks waiting by the front of the dormitory. They were pushing some nerd around amongst them, laughing to each other and thoroughly enjoying themselves, it seemed. My breath caught in my throat as I watched them. I could always sneak into my dorm room around the back like the coward I was. It appealed more to me than being beaten again by those jerks. Heck, I was still limping from the first ambush, I didn't want that to happen again.

As fate had it, I would sneak by them. The nerd they were pushing around would point me out to them, and I would run (stupidly) around the back of the dormitory. I would be captured, and pinned against the wall.

Ah, and here we were again. There were only three of them, but the fact that no prefect would see made them want the violence more, it looked like, because their punches seemed to be harder, their jeers nastier, and their laughs more like cackles. I gave them what they wanted, I even cried a little to make the pain stop earlier. And it did, but not because of my not-so-fake tears.

It stopped because the tank that was Russell had slammed into all three of them, and had then roared in their direction. They weren't the strongest of the jocks. It was obvious because they weren't wearing Letterman jackets. In fact, I was positive that they were no older than me. I'm pretty sure that's why they ran when they did, Russel right behind them. After he had chased them away, someone else was pulling me up. Someone who was laughing a little, and when he spoke fear curdled in my gut. He was far worse than those jocks could ever be. He was my own nightmare, and he was currently pinning me to the wall, his eyes deadly and his mouth drawn into a disgusted sneer.

Gary Smith.

For those of you who don't know who this is, he was the most psychotic boy in the sophomore class, or in the entire school, for that matter. He was one year my senior, and scared the living daylights out of me. Not only did he constantly taunt me and nobody else, but he could probably beat me up just like those jocks had. Maybe not with his fists, but with his trusty words and probably a board with a nail driven into it. I wouldn't put it past him, not in a million years. He was a maniac who seemed to thrive on violence, and-if he wasn't crapping all over my dignity-he sometimes spoke to me about a plan to throw the school into chaos. He said he was only missing one thing-a mindless drone who would trust him.

He knew right away he wouldn't find that in me, I supposed. That or he knew my social standing wasn't the greatest at this school. Or maybe I wasn't right for his scheme. Regardless, he would sometimes confide that in me, and it was those strange talks that made me feel like he was my friend, if only for that moment. Of course, it didn't change the fact that he was pure evil in my eyes, and not to mention a frigging genius to match.

Right now I was on the verge of screaming as loudly as I could. I was absolutely terrified, and I knew that much was as plain on my face as it was in my eyes.

"How about next time you run to the prefect who's walking in the opposite direction, you genius," his tone was scathing, and he dragged me along with him over to our dorm room window, which was not too far away, "Honestly, I thought you were smart."

He thought I was smart? Why wasn't he strangling me, or ripping my guts out and writing on the wall with my blood? I'd imagined him doing those things plenty of times, and with a smile planted on his insane, unstable face. But he merely let me go, and pushed the window open, glancing over at me with disgust written very obviously over his facial features.

"Wait..." I frowned, staring at him with half-lidded, tired eyes. He did wait, crossing his arms as if he had far more important things to do. which he probably did, in his mind at least, "does this mean we're friends?"

I thought he would burst out laughing, and I was right. He laughed for a while, even bending over while holding his stomach. It looked like he was having a fit, and I recalled him skipping his medication again this morning. If this continued on, I was a bit scared of what he might do. I didn't have much more time to think of that, though, because his eyes were again on me, and a wicked smile lighting his features.

"Femme Boy," he sounded amused, "I couldn't be friends with you if I tried."

"Then why did you help me?" I asked meekly, still leaning heavily against the wall.

"Because I'm bored of watching. I thought I'd mix it up a little," there was a glint in his eyes as mine widened considerably. It was him. He was the one I'd seen the other day after I'd been beaten. He had been watching, probably laughing too. And how many other times had he been watching? How many other times had he stood idly by while I was bloodied?

"Wha-?" I shook my head-which made me a little dizzy-at a loss for words for the moment. How could anyone get enjoyment out of that? What kind of sick person did you have to be-"How could you just sit by and watch?" I asked, my tone laced with my anger. His eyes sparked with something, and his smile widened in a completely frightening way.

"I wanted to see what you'd do," he answered simply, "you're interesting, Petey, my boy. And a worthy study of how someone might act if everybody hated them. You do wonder about that, right?" I could only stare at him in horror as he went on. He probably though I hadn't understood the question, when really I just didn't understand him, "Why everyone hates you?"

"Should I guess that..." I finally blinked, my eyes burning only because they'd been open for so long, "Should I guess that it's because of you?"

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" He smiled brightly, pointing at the sky with one finger, "You don't have to worry about being bullied anymore, though," he said dismissively, and I trusted his words in spite of myself. It was just the way he'd said them, like it should be obvious, "I'm finished with my little experiment. You should be fine from now on."

"Done with your...sick little game..." I felt my eyes closing, and I fought to keep them open, "Why not let it go on, though?" I asked him, growing angrier by the second. My tone was laced with venom when I spoke, and again his eyes sparked with that unknown emotion. Could it be surprise? Something else? I couldn't Identify it, it fled so quickly, "Why end it here just because you're done? You don't care about me anyway. You should be able to leave me behind-no worries. You don't have to trouble... trouble yourself with watching anymore-why stop it all... all together?" I asked, my eyes drooping. I had been ignoring the spiking pain all this time, but it was getting to me. Usually I dealt with the pain until it made me black out anyway. I could go on just a little longer. Just long enough to get answers.

He paused. Only a moment, and then he spoke, his words filling me with a whole new type of horror.

"Because I do keep track of my things, despite what you may think. Who do you think called that prefect? I don't like for them to be broken beyond repair," he said simply, in such a matter-of-fact tone that it caused my heart to jump just as the blackness encroached on my vision. His sinister expression was the last thing I saw before I plunged into nothing.

3

I woke up to sunshine pouring into my window and a splitting headache. The first thing I saw-because it was in my line of vision, as I was laying on my right side-was a note on my nightstand. It was from the nurse, and it read that I could stay in the dorms today. I didn't have to go to school. That was a good thing, because my limbs were throbbing, and my head was pounding, and my mind wouldn't stop thinking.

I was thinking about-none other-Gary Smith. He was an enigma, a complete mess, a genius, and insane to boot. And what was I to him, exactly? Some type of play thing? An experiment? A joke? What did he think of me as? He'd said I was smart, but I couldn't be sure he'd meant it. And what kind of person sat and watched as another person was practically killed right before their eyes? I bet I could have died, and-

I don't like for them to be broken beyond repair.

I closed my eyes. No, I couldn't think about him anymore. I just wanted to sleep. Wanted to be away from those thoughts of him. Wanted to be free and clear, and I definitely wanted to forget what I'd heard him say so clearly to me.

DUN DUN! Okay, this is obviously prior Jimmy. He's not even going to be in this story until the end maybe. I actually wanted this to just be a one-shot, but I got a little carried away. I couldn't fit it all in one chapter without it being mega-long, so I'm going to break it into a few. It won't be very long-maybe three or four chapters at the most. I'm thinking it'll just be two.

This is obviously going to be Gary/Pete. I love that pairing, and I hardly see any around anymore, so I thought I'd balance it out a bit. Did I pull off the characters? Gary is kinda hard to write for... Next time (if I decide to make Petey a victim again ;D) it won't be the jocks beating on him. I think I made them into villains here... But they always chased me in the game! D: I don't like them! Though they sometimes say some funny things. xD Once I was in the boy's locker room, stealing things out of the lockers, and I just heard "I wanna fight a Gorrilla." or something like that, and then the fight music for the jocks started playing. xD Sorry if I mis-quoted a bit there, but it's been a while since I've played, someone is borrowing my game. They have been for a long time, but I beat that shit in three days! COME ON, I want it back already! Dx

GAH! Such a long rant here. Well, anyway, PLEASE review, I love getting those things. :D And, uh, give me some time for the second chapter! ;D It will be up, I just can't say when! When I'm finished with this, I'll upload a Bully chapter fic I've been working on. It's Gary/Pete! x3

I'M OUT!