The light that came through the slits in the door did nothing to ease the darkness that surrounded John. He raised his hand into the weak beams, watching the light bend round his fingers as dust particles floated through it. He cared little for it, his heart heavy. It had been a good week until now. John placed his hand against the holes plunging himself into darkness. It's wasn't like it made much difference. There was so little room in the gym locker and even of he could see the lock, the mechanism was enclosed, so he couldn't pick it from the inside.

Everyone was gone. He'd watched them through the gaps as they all got changed and left for home or after-school activities. It had been an accident. John had been so happy that he'd managed to hit the baseball that was thrown at him he hadn't cared where it had gone. Unfortunately, it had gone straight into the crouch of Mitchell Brown. The glare John received confirmed the retribution was coming. Once in the locker room, Mitchell had grabbed John by the hair and forced him into the locker. He'd had no time to react, not that John could have done anything to stop it. Mitchell's brown eyes had stared into his through the slots, filling John with dread. The glee in them clear for all to see. None of his classmates dared to help him. So, John was left in the locker. John had banged about but no-one had heard or come. He wondered how long it would take to be found. Who would be the one to come looking?

The noise of a door jolted John and he immediately started banging and shouting for help. The laughter that filled the changing room sent a chill down his spine. John stopped hitting the metal and peered through the slots. The bright lights of the locker room highlighted the sneer on Mitchell's face which now fill John entire view.

"Still feisty in there, aren't you John?"

Mitchell banged on the locker. John slapped his hands to his ears, trying to shield them from the painful noise. The boys on the other side were laughing.

"We'll leave you a little longer then. Enjoy your new home, John."

John rested his head against the back of the locker. The group turned their backs to him as they left. He was in just the right position to make it look like Mitchell's head was floating. They turned the lights off as they left, plunging the locker room into a eerie semi-darkness. The small amount of light that came through the dirty windows cast a desolate image before him. John sighed, letting his body slip down the back wall of the locker until his knees hit the front. He sat in that awkward position, a pole sticking onto his side, and waited.

After what felt like an eternity, a door banged again. This time John didn't hit the locker, instead he peered out and waited. The lights hadn't been turned on this time and there was an odd silence surrounding each footstep. It sounded like one person, which felt off to John. The light the windows cast a shadow of the intruder, who was heading his way. John's heart beat faster, did he dare call out? Was it a teacher? The shadow neared until the person stepped into the isle of lockers in front of his. Their face was dark, but the light lit up their red plaid shirt. The figure's face turned his way and the beams cast the familiar face half in shadow.

"Virgil!"

John banged as his brother startled. Virgil immediately came his way.

"John?"

"I'm in the locker."

His brother's brown eyes filled his view through the vent. Relief filled John as Virgil tested the lock.

"I'm going to get the key from the teachers. I'll be straight back."

"Thank you, Virgil!" John yelled as his brother ran off. It was a short wait, but Virgil returned and unlocked the door. John smiled as he carefully stepped out, a hockey stick following him. Virgil caught it, pushed it back in and shut the locker up. John stretched himself out, glad for the room. He was still in his gym kit.

"Are you okay, John?"

"Yeah. Just a bit stiff."

John instinctively reached for his head where Mitchell had yanked on his hair. It hurt when his fingers brushed the area. He slipped his hand away and a single ginger strand stuck to his hand. A minor casualty.

"I'd better get changed. We don't want to be too late home. I'd rather not get grounded."

Virgil's hand came up and squeezed his shoulder. John glances at his brother, who gave him a nod. This matter would stay between them unless it became regular.