Disclaimer: All characters recognized in the Faculty movie are under copyright of Robert Rodriguez and Dimension Films. The character Grace belongs to Shooting Starlight.

-oOo-

Chapter 3 – Injured

"Now...there. It doesn't seem to be as bad as it looks, Mr Connor," informed Nurse Harper, placing the roll of gauze back onto the shiny, first-aid counter. "It is a good thing that I found you when I did. Otherwise it could have been a lot worse." She gave him a long, hard look.

Casey kept his eyes on the floor. "Yeah."

There was another painful silence. The only sounds in the room were the occasional, haunting hum of the ward lights and the hollow ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Keep pressure of this wrist, okay?" the nurse told him, this time, in a cheerful, but forced voice. "It's a good thing you're right-handed, or else you'd be in heaps of trouble." The sudden monstrous rip of Velcro sent echoes through the boy's ears.

He flinched a little in surprise and stared at the handful of brown straps in her hand.

"What's that?" she asked quickly.

She breathed a laugh. "Oh, don't worry," she said reassuringly, placing it atop his damaged wrist, gently turning it over to connect the entwining fingers of the support hold. "It will hold your arm steady, so you don't bend it as much."

Casey stared at the new support holding his wrist straight. The cream-coloured gauze shone through the leather, highlighting his arm and camouflaging it with the walls. He sighed. It looked like a giant, treacle hand was enclosing around his: tightening it without any chance of escape. It throbbed.

He sighed, swinging his feet lamely from the chair. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice injured.

She stared at him again, trying to look inside of this young boy's soul. She wanted to see all of the scars...the pain...everything that made him what that he was in front of her: someone who had endured enough, and was left stranded whilst the others trampled over him and kicked dust in his eyes.

"Casey?"

"Hmm?"

A reaction that she didn't want from him. She wanted him to stare up at her, with those broken eyes so she could understand why he hurt so much. She didn't know what that she could do for him. Not even a nurse could treat someone like this and make it all better.

Instead, she did the only thing that she could think of. She smiled; weakly. "Just be careful in future, okay?" she told him with a small nod of her head.

Casey looked at the wall. He wanted to grin back at her. He wanted to chuckle and joke about how clumsy that he'd been, and what an idiot he must have looked sprawled out on the floor like that. Instead, a wave of despair swept over him at the mere thought of his humiliation, and he closed his lids against it.

"Yeah. Sure."

-oOo-

The bell rang furiously for the lunch break; unfortunately a lot quicker than Casey had hoped it would. He detested this time of the day, pretty much because of the fact that he wasn't safe. There wasn't a teacher standing in front of him with eagle-like eyes: ready to pounce on any prey that seemed to be causing bother.

It was almost as if the leashes had been cut to set the bloodthirsty dogs on him. As far as they were all concerned, he was an easy target. He would not surrender, and they enjoyed that.

It made it all the more interesting.

He had discovered whilst he had been here that the best place to hide during lunch was on the bleachers outside the football field. He couldn't sit anywhere in the cafeteria without spaghetti being "accidentally" dumped into his hair, and the last time he had tried to eat outside in the quad, he had almost lost a chunk of his brain when the football players enjoyed using the side of his head as a target to bounce their ball off.

No, he was safe on the bleachers. He was all alone there. And when he was all alone, no one could hurt him.

He munched on his sandwich and stared out beyond the iron gate that surrounded the walls of the school. A small twang of sadness hit his heart like a racket to a ball as his eyes lay on the fields...far off into the distance. How he wished that he could be on those hills right now, where he didn't have to worry about pain, or people, or life.

There would just be him. He would be free.

But then the foreboding mood of darkness smothered this dream and filled it with bitter reality as he caught sight of the gates again, and a deep, terrible feeling plummeted into the bottom of his stomach. No, he was trapped here. Trapped like a lab experiment. With no hope of freedom.

It's not fair.

"Hey...hey, you!" came a familiar cry, shouting out to him. A girl's voice. "It's you again – Hey! Look at me!"

To Casey it sounded like a demon spawn that had just been catapulted from Hell to torment him for the rest of the week.

Stupid bitch – just leave me the fuck alone!

In a flash he scrambled to his feet, clutching his brown lunch bag in one hand, a frustrated expression on his face. He danced and stumbled through the bleacher seats, going as fast as he could. He would be able to run faster on the green turf.

"Don't run away, you little shit! I'm not gonna do anything – I just wanna talk to you, dammit!"

Well, I don't wanna talk to you! Casey heard, his head screaming. I just want to be alone – without anyone bothering me! Why can't people see that!

He manoeuvred around the seats, attempting to keep his eyes on the road ahead whilst putting some distance between him and the girl. The only problem was her voice kept getting louder and closer every second. She was gaining on him and there was no chance of stopping her.

Shit, she's fast!

"Get back here!"

He turned back, fury alight in his features. "Go away!"

"Wha – ? I'm just trying to talk to you – don't you fucking tell me to – !"

Wham! His foot collided into the top of the bleacher in front and his arms snatched free, empty air. Panic rose into his chest as his whole body fell forward, careering down through the seats in a ball of arms, legs and bruises. His fingers attempted to grasp any sort of hold but were unsuccessful. They were jerked backwards onto his knuckles and he yelped in pain.

The girl stopped dead at the sound of the crashes, her brown eyes alight with horror. The dull thud as the body hit the floor almost made her scream. She covered her mouth with her palms.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, forcing her legs to move down the stairs towards the turf below; she found it difficult as her knees were trembling. "Jesus H. Christ – fuck!"

Casey groaned. The damp, prickly touch of grass kissed his ear and he opened his eyes blearily, feeling pain striking every limb of his body. Bruising kisses scraped at his joints and accompanied his spinning head. There was a coppery taste in his mouth: blood. He clenched his teeth and tried to get up, but he couldn't move. His lungs felt as if they had burst: he couldn't breathe.

"Shit! Oh, God! Are you okay!"

Her again. He frowned to himself at the sound of her voice. Bitch.

Her voice sounded as if it was on the verge of tears. "Oh, crap – I'm so sorry!" she whimpered, scrambling to his side and taking his grazed elbow in her hands. "I really am...here, let me help you – !"

"N-no..." Casey wheezed, all of the breath gone from his body. "I...I'm...fi – "

She clicked her tongue nosily, her tone frustrated. "Like hell you're fine!" she snapped, slipping her arm under his to allow him to sit upright, although he didn't seem to negotiate. "You just fell all the way down those bleachers!"

"I...know..." he growled.

"I've got to take you to the nurse," she panted, inspecting his injuries with concerned eyes. She brushed a few locks of short chocolate hair out of her eyes, and they fell over his sprained wrist from before.

"Oh...shit," she cringed. She set her jaw at the grisly sight, and her hands flew immediately to her teeth where she began to feast on her nails.

It was then that Casey felt the pain of it. The numb feeling had disappeared, and in its place came anguish. Burning, blinding agony seized his eyes and brought tears to them. He turned his drowning sight towards his battered wrist: but the sight caused his heart to fall into his shoes again.

"Ugh..."

It was beyond any point of repair. The angle it was bent to was not even one that had been studied in geometry. It just didn't look real. Blood ran down it and into the crook of his elbow, filling it with deep, crimson wine. He swallowed at the sight of the snapped bone sprouting through the purple skin. The leather cast lay tattered in between the debris.

"God," the girl gasped, unable to take her eyes away from it. "You've broken it."

I've broken it! Casey thought, furious. She was the one who chased me down here! If anyone's fucking broken it, it's her!

A fuming rage emerged itself in his brow, the weight of it bringing it down. His other hand clenched itself into a fist; the chipped, bloody knuckles dripping down his scraped skin. His leg throbbed in pain beneath him as he tried to stand on his aching feet.

"What the hell are you doing!" she exclaimed, her shocked eyes staring at his struggling limbs. "Don't try and get up – I'll go and get help – "

"No."

The coldness in his voice forced her to stop. She stood there, blinking at him and gaping at his cut cheeks and his black eye. His nose was also bleeding and was trickling onto his swollen lip. He looked as if he had been in an all – week boxing match, and it was just about to get even worse.

She swallowed, her eyebrows narrowing. "W-what?"

"Stop...following me," he hissed, wincing at the pain that was stabbing him in the eyeball. "Just leave me alone."

She stared at him, noticing the pain and fear filling up in his cerulean eyes again; only this time, blemishes of frustration and hate were swirled together in the ocean mix, giving her an icy feeling in her stomach.

"I'm just trying to help you," she said kindly, her fingers reaching out for his broken wrist. However, he backed off; hot tears of fury escaping down his sliced cheeks.

"Don't you get it?" he questioned venomously, cradling his wounds in his sweater, concealing his exposed bone in his sleeve. "I don't want you to be around me. I just want to be alone...every time I've seen you I always end up getting hurt." He felt a tinted blush surround his cheekbones.

"That's not my fucking fault!" she practically screamed, tears of her own beginning to form.

"Just stay away from me," he snarled grimly, whirling on his blistered heel and limping his way off the football field. Every step caused him to twitch with pain, and he eventually couldn't go any further. It felt as if he was walking on nails. His knees buckled and he stopped himself before he found himself sprawled on the grass again.

She felt her blood boiling furiously in her veins. Her breaths came out viciously in short, ragged pants at the sight of him trudging away ridiculously across the field. He didn't even want to go to the nurse – and his wrist was broken! It was so stupid!

"You...you..." she growled, her teeth grinding against each other as a small gust of wind caused her dark hair to flutter around her face. "YOU PATHETIC LITTLE SHIT!"

Casey halted and twisted his neck to stare at her, a confused, tortured expression pasted onto his face. Blood oozed from his lips.

There almost seemed to be an angelic power rising and rippling through the girl. It surrounded her body and rose into her eyes, giving them authority and new meaning. Her chest was heaving with anger and her fists were clenched firmly at her hips. Her hair blew across her eyes.

"You don't understand shit, do you?" she spat, her voice breaking with livid tears. "You waltz around, like some fucking victim, expecting others to feel sorry for you, when really, they just laugh at you! They laugh, dammit – don't you know that yet!"

Casey stared.

"I've been there, okay?" she whispered, a sudden seriousness striking her voice. Her dark eyes squinted, bringing a mysterious aura to her face. "I know what it's like. I know what it's like to be laughed at. They used to laugh at me all the time – I know what it feels like to be alone! I know how it feels...when someone hurts you."

There was a long silence. Casey opened his mouth to speak, but could find no words. Instead, the girl looked at him.

"I know what it feels like to hate life."

How does she know all of this? How does she know...how I feel?

Casey wanted to accept what she was saying, but he found that he just couldn't. How did he know that she wasn't telling the truth? She might just be saying this to make him feel better about the whole thing. But did she have a broken wrist right now? Was she bullied every day at school, where people shoved you about like you were invisible? Did she get treated like scum when she went home to her parents?

I know what it feels like to hate life, Casey told himself firmly. Not her. She doesn't have a clue.

"The fuck you do," Casey whispered spitefully, his head lightening with his increasing temper. "I see you all the time. You're always surrounded by friends – you're always so happy – "

"I've learnt to be fucking happy!" she shouted tearfully. "That's what you have to do, sometimes! You can either lie there in the dirt and let them walk all over you...or you can Goddamn get up and learn to deal with it!"

Casey looked away, a fresh tear stinging his flesh. "I...I can't help it," he fumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm just...used to it."

She scoffed. "Oh, don't give me that bullshit – "

"It's true!" he protested, cutting in and wincing as his broken wrist tingled and throbbed. "I've been used to this my whole fucking life! Ever since I first started all of this school shit – it's all been the same!"

She rolled her eyes, tapping a finger on the edge of her arm before bringing her pretty features into a sneer. "They can see right through you," she breathed mysteriously, staring directly into his face. "One look at you, and they know you're weak. You're weak, you know that? You have to learn to get stronger."

Learn...to get stronger? A flame of bitterness welled in the boy's chest.

"Shut up!" he choked, his lip trembling. "They'd kill me if I fought back!"

"Kill them."

"I can't!" he screamed, closing his eyes so he couldn't look at her anymore.

"Why not?"

"Because..." he stumbled over his words, trying to think of a good enough reason as to why he couldn't kill them. His gaze ran over his skinny arms and his small frame. He glimpsed at his broken arm and fingers and back down to his bruised knees. He sighed miserably.

"I'm weak," he sniffed, his voice lost on the wind in a whisper. He wiped at the blood on his face with a dirtied knuckle.

Another uncomfortable silence endured. Casey had never felt so small in all of his life. This was even more humiliating than when he had been hung, drawn and quartered in the clutches of the bullies, who tormented him as if he were a baby bird...someone who couldn't fight back.

That's why they hurt me, Casey told himself. I can't fight back. I'm weak.

"I..." Casey choked, feeling more tears build up in his throat, causing himself to croak bitterly. "I...I'm sorry, I..."

"Here," she broke in, walking over to the boy across the muddy turf, a slow, half-smile melting across her face. "I'll...I'll walk you to the nurse." She slipped her hand under his arm and linked it with hers, pressing his shoulder next to the warmth of her coat.

Casey didn't object. Instead, he listened to the wind, the only sound apart from the occasional sniff from the girl. Everything was inky silence. She hadn't said anything else from what that she had already revealed.

Perhaps she thinks she's said too much, Casey told himself. That's what I feel like sometimes.

He smelt her strawberry scented hair again as it wafted across his nose in the wind. The warm, burning feeling in his face wouldn't disappear; no matter how calm and chilly that the air was outside. He really didn't feel that comfortable around girls...but he didn't like to say so.

"Thank you," he mumbled, staring at the floor and wishing that the searing pain in his wrist would go away.

For a while, there was a dark, unbearable silence. Casey felt her sigh next to him.

"No problem," she finally answered, sometime later.

He didn't want to bring up what she had said earlier. Obviously she had her own problems that she had had to deal with in the past, and it was quite clear that she didn't want them to be emerged again. So, he kept quiet. He chewed on his lip, tasting the metallic taste of red liquid.

"Got a name?" she murmured quickly, staring straight ahead. Her voice sounded almost lost.

His fingers clenched around the edge of his sleeve as another jolt of electric pain vibrated along the bone of his arm and struck him violently in his fingertips. He choked on a shriek, but managed to whisper in the air through clenched teeth.

"C-Casey..." he replied. "M-my name's Casey."

She smiled weakly, still not looking at him. Her expression was filled with guilt. "I'm Grace," she told him in a hollow tone, squeezing his elbow a little more with hers.

Casey's lip throbbed, but he still managed to pull a smile, even though it must have looked rather painful. He was grateful that someone had given him so much more of their trouble. Usually if anything happened like this, they simply jeered at his injuries and rubbed salt into his wounds. But not this time. This girl was helping him. She understood what he was going through...or so she said. It was the first time that someone had held out their hand to him after he had fallen; giving him the chance to get back up on his feet, brush himself down...

...and smile again.

Grace.