Hola! Well, I don't really have much to say... Thanks to all my awesome reviewers! You guys are... well, awesome! Here's chapter seven!
She smiled a grin only a sadist could make and bared her crimson stained teeth at them.
That was all the boy's brother could take. He lunged for Summer.
Now, the boy probably outweighed Summer by fifty pounds, but he didn't have a knife, did he? The boy knocked her to the ground with a loud thud and attempted to grab her knife. Of course, that didn't happen. She expertly moved the blade up to his neck and stabbed. She rolled the now dead boy off of her and tried to get up, but right as she was about to retrieve her trusty blade from his neck and prepare for another fight, the remaining two knocked her back down. She was defenseless. She might have been able to take down one of them without any type of weapon, but definitely not both. They were big guys.
One boy she didn't recognize was holding her down while Ronald threw a torrent of punches at her face. She struggled under the nameless boy's weight, but it was useless. There was no way she would get out of this.
Summer couldn't see a thing. A wet, sticky liquid poured over her eyes, blocking her view. Right on the verge of unconsciousness, the punching ceased and the weight was lifted off of her. She could hear yelling and screaming, but couldn't distinguish a thing said. She felt dizzy and all she wanted to do was let the black wave off unconsciousness take her in, even though she knew she couldn't do that. She was so tired… But, she had to stay awake. She had stuff to do, people to torture.
But, oh how inviting the darkness was. Maybe she could just sleep for a few minutes… no. No, she needed to get up and figure out what the hell was going on.
Summer wiped at her blood-covered eyes, only to see something that made her more confused. Ronny-boy and the other kid were lying face down with blood seeping from numerous stab wounds. Both dead.
"What the…" Summer whispered hoarsely.
"Heeey Summer. Told you I'd catch you later," Bug said casually while leaning against a nearby wall and holding his own pocket knife. The bloodied knife looked foreign on such a young, innocent-looking boy. Summer knew better than to think of anyone here as innocent, though. They all did something to get sent here. Of course, none as bad as what she did.
What she did was horrible, unacceptable as her mother put it. She barely escaped going to prison. She just had to play the it-was-all-self-defense card and the jury bought it. She got sent here instead. She had to admit, she liked it better at Coates than at "home"… no, not home. She would never describe that hell hole as home. Summer was glad she got sent here and she didn't regret what she did in the least. The bastard deserved it. She smiled as she remembered her father's screams of pure agony and the pain he must've been in before her mother ruined the party. She always picked the wrong times to walk in. Summer wished she could've finished him off and let him suffer the way she did when he got drunk. The things he did… she shuddered. She didn't want to, no couldn't. She couldn't remember. Not now, not here. Not where anyone could see her show weakness.
She shook the memories from her head and took in her surroundings. Blood was everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. Four beaten and bloodied bodies were lying limp on the ground, including Ronny-boy, and a ten year old was holding a knife. The sight made her laugh. Hysterically, in fact. Bug just stared at her like she was crazy. She probably was.
She laughed and laughed until it hurt, and then doubled over in pain and laughed some more. Well it already did hurt from the beating she took… but still.
"Uh… Summer?" Bug asked and eyed her warily. "You alright?
"Are you really asking that? REALLY?" she said with more venom than she intended.
"Sorry? Anyways, do you want to go get cleaned up or something?" he asked. The strange thing was he actually looked concerned. About her. What…? No one was ever concerned about her.
She mock frowned and pouted, "Why? You don't think all this," she said and motioned to the dark purple bruises and blood spatters on her face, "Is sexy?"
They both couldn't help but start busting out laughing. She laughed a real laugh, not her sadistic laugh, not even her cruel, sarcastic laugh, but one that she hadn't done for months. By the time she was able to stop, it felt as if she would pass out from the pain. Her head throbbed and she was still covered in blood; only part of it was hers.
She decided to grab some Tylenol from the nurse's office and then head to the Cafeteria. So she walked over to the dead boy that her knife was still lodged in and yanked it out, then picked up her backpack and headed for the nurse's office.
