John opened his eyes.
The light of the September morning shone weakly through the curtains. His pillow rustled as he rolled, pain shot through his side and he grimaced as he stood, the pyjama bottoms the only thing covering him. John looked down at his ribs and the mottled purple and black bruise covering the left side. A deep breath brought a dull pain as John pulled on his school uniform. The clattering of plates downstairs told him his mum was up. John grabbed his backpack and trudged down the creaking stairs. Not a glance was given in his direction as he made his way to the kitchen. His dad was seated at the table, back to John and his mum was at the sink, muttering something as she cleaned. The opening of the fridge caused the heads to turn.
"Morning John" his mum's voice chirped. John grabbed an apple in response as his mum moved towards him, saying something about the weather.
"John?"
A gentle hand cupped his chin, turning it slowly towards its owner.
"What happened love?" his mum questioned as her thumb swept smoothly over John's bruised and swollen temple.
"Nothing." John muttered, his voice breaking slightly with the morning. He pulled away, turning towards the door.
"Those boys again?" the deep voice of his father pitched in. He remained seated and engrossed in the daily newspaper. John shrugged as his dad ruffled his unkempt hair. John pulled away and made his way to the front door.
"Chin up" his father said, still reading and devoid of emotion. John pulled on his black shoes, the front of which were scuffed and grey. The door creaked and the cold morning swept through the porch.
"Have a good day" his mum said, voice raised so he could hear. John gave a small nod before pulling the door shut and stepping out into the frost filled day.
The walk was cold. Cars passed. People walked. Cyclists pedalled. John kept his head down, hands shoved into his pockets as the school gates loomed. Voices pitched, talked, lots of talking and noise, laughter.
"Oh sorry" someone said as their shoulder inadvertently caught John's.
8.45am.
Class started in fifteen minutes and it was cold. John made his way towards the doors but stopped short. He looked up from the floor. Why did he look up? Because there they were, all four with him in the middle. The leader in the middle who stood, looking directly at John. Was that a grin on his face? John's breath hitched as the leader pointed at him. A step was all it took, one small step. The leader moved his foot forward, one step and John turned, ran. Bodies were in the way. John pushed past. He heard them shout.
"Oi, watch it!"
Sorry. John thought and ran to the other building entrance. The doors clattered open as John smashed through, his breaths coming out in shorter gasps. He could hear their feet behind him. The corridor was empty save the stairwell at the end. He dared it. He glanced back. Four faces, running, smiling and threatening. John's arms pumped, his feet pounded, his breath was stopping.
Not stairs. No stairs. Too much. Breathe. Breathe. Oh God please no.
The stairwell presented itself like a wall. John slowed and turned in the space below the stairs. The wall welcomed his back as he stepped backwards, the four faces moving towards him along the corridor.
The empty corridor.
No-one.
John breathed heavily and the boys smiled. He stared at the leader.
Please.
One more step. Just a step and no more space. Faces, smiling, menacing. A raised fist.
John's eyes squeezed shut.