Bad Feelings (Open)

Fletcher stumbled away from the group of laughing boys. He tried not to hear their jeers, as he turned the corner and got out of sight. Safe, he leaned against the cold wall of a building, and brought his fingers up to his swollen bloody lip. He winced as he probed the cut. He fingers traveled left to rest against he also swollen cheek. He laid his hand flat against the side of his face, the coldness of his hand felt good, but the pressure did not. It was bittersweet.

He bent his knee, seeing if it was broken. It wasn't, though he knew he'd limp for awhile. He had gotten in a 'friendly scuffle' with his 'friends.' They usually went easy on him...tonight they had been crueler then usual. He wondered why. Well at least they included him, right? He hadn't even uttered a cry as they kicked him the ribs after tackling him to the ground. That was the point of the game wasn't it? Thinking of his ribs, he moved his other hand under his shirt to rest against that bruise.

Fletcher was yet again the victim of a game the boys of D12 liked to play. It was a game of will. Two boys will take turns hitting, kicking, biting, and otherwise hurting their opponent until one of them cried out. The first to cry out, lost and was ridiculed until a new loser emerged. But with Fletch, the entire group took him on. Fletch could hold out surprisingly well, but unfortunately that worked against him since he just acquired more wounds. Fletcher was too good-natured to question his friends, he just went along with it.

"Cat." he gasped. Immediately he felt the sweet taste of honey fill his mouth. It comforted him instantly. "Stick." Some sort of berry filled his mouth, combining with the taste of honey. Sometimes his Synesthesia was a good thing.

He saw a girl approaching, alone. He quickly turned and peeked around the corner to see if his friends were still there. They were. That worried him. If his friends saw a girl, out this late, alone...well things could happen. He moved forward to warn her, but someone beat him to it. He was dazzled by a long line of tastes that assaulted his mouth at their exchanged words. He tried momentarily to place the taste of each word, but then he realized he was getting distracted, and continued toward the girl, and the other person.

"Uh, you guys should go the other way..." He said, wincing while he talked. He realized that the other person was a boy, and trailed off, wondering if he was leading the girl to the group around the corner. "My friends are a bit unfriendly to girls." He tried to stop yet another wince, but this time it was from taste rather then pain. The word 'friends' was a particularly disgusting word, having the taste of coal dust, and mold.

My hands stop stop shaking as the boy places his jacket over my shoulders. Maybe he does just want to help, I think awkwardly. The other boy that had just recently arrived looked worried. I don't want to go. No one would. But what's the point of me staying? It's not like I'm some magical ninja who can destroy people with the flick of a finger. I'm no warrior.

I shake my head no and walk over to the boy who gave me his jacket. I take it off and place it back over his shoulders. "I'm fine," I lie, "I won't get hurt." I comb my hair out of my eyes and look deep into the boy's who helped me. "Thanks," I mutter. I then look at the other boy, studying him intently. He doesn't look trustworthy. He is bleeding and looks dangerous and mean.

"What? You think just because I'm a girl that I need protection?" I know that it is true that I need protection, but this still angers me. I usually wouldn't talk to strangers, but he is a different story. He is a potential threat to my well being. "Well, you would be wrong. Your friends might be mean, but they haven't met me." This is all one big lie, but he appears to be buying in to it. I smirk to myself. Nice work.