||Strength|| In NUM8ER5 (Open)

Bo Ceallach

The young man stands on the edge of his porch
The days were short and the father was gone
There was no one in the town and no one in the field
This dusty barren land had given all it could yield

I sit in my desk in the back corner of the class, my legs crossed and wedged between my torso and the edge of my desk. I have honestly no idea what the teacher is talking about. I think, drumming my pencil against my forehead.

Sitting at the back is really ideal for me. I can judge how agitated and likely to lash out my classmates are and avoid their notice with more ease. Out of sight, out of mind.

I try to focus on my learning but it's too hard, my mind is too blurred and none of the teacher's words seem to make sense. I am an idiot. I think mercilessly, grinding my teeth before taking a slow, deep breath.

Thankfully, the bell rings shrilly moments later, and I slip quickly through the door and into the hallway before anyone can really register me there. Now all I have to do is get home without catching anyone's attention.

It goes well at first. I walk swiftly towards the north end of the seam, my shoes kicking up the coal dust that had settled on the road. There's a storm rolling in, and a brisk wind blows across my neck, making the hairs stand up. I tug my sweater tighter around my thin frame and glance backwards.

Fear spikes through my body and my footsteps falter to a halt. Three of the boys in the class above me, the ones I used to study with are walking towards me, treading to silent and swift to be casual. It's all too familiar and yet still completely terrifying.

Not again, not again, not again.

I try to run, but my feet feel heavy and my body lurches towards the ground. My hands catch my fall and dull, scraping pain blossoms across them. One of the boys laughs loudly and cruelly, and I wonder who would come to my aid if I chose to scream. More than likely no one, this end of the Seam. The boys are circling around me now and I scream anyways. As the first blow smashes into my throat and cuts off my voice all I can do is hope and pray that someone will come for me.

They press close against me, and then a fist hits my stomach and a sharp blow to the back of my knees makes me crumple to the ground.It's like every other time, I can't even raise a hand to protect myself.

"Your little brother ain't here to protect you today freak!" They taunt, slamming their feet and fists into my body with stunning accuracy. They're practiced, they know exactly where to hit me so I hurt but don't die. The biggest one, Archer, I think his name is, drags me into a sitting position by my collar, and delivers a punch with surprising strength to my jaw. A small sob escapes me and the boys laugh again.

"Shit A, it's starting to rain." One of them says, stepping back and looking up the street. "And someone's coming. We gotta get outta here." My collar is dropped and I slam back into the ground, coughing on the blood in my mouth. Archer sneers down at me as he stands up.

"Pathetic. Rage Issues my ass." He spits on me once and then turns and runs after his friends, into the maze-like back alleys of the Seam.

They were right, it is starting to rain. It's sporadic at first, splashing my already damp cheeks. As it starts to come down harder I see a flash of brilliant light across the sky and a clap of thunder echoes through the quiet afternoon. I groan and roll over onto my side, spitting out the bloody saliva that has accumulated and see that the boys who beat me were right. There is somebody coming down the road. Little more than a silhouette at the moment, I feel a kind of hopeful nervousness. Maybe it's my lucky day.

Maybe.

I've been kicked off my land at the age of sixteen
And I have no idea where else my heart could have been
I placed all my trust at the foot of this hill
And now I am sure my heart can never be still

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lyrics:Dust Bowl Dance by Mumford and Sons