Over my doorstep

The last day of school. A day every student anticipates in some capacity. Some are happy too finally have some much-required free time. Some are ecstatic about not having to Listen to reprimands from their teachers and most of them are anticipating a holiday trip with friends or family. the most excitement probably comes from the graduating classes. Those who can finally close a chapter in their lives to move on to greater heights. there are, of course, exceptions to this rule. one such exception would be the student named Damian Hartell.

To him it didn't make any sort of difference what part of his life he was currently in. He stood up from his chair, packed his bag and left the classroom. Because he was a whole head shorter then most of his classmates, he just had to lower his head and stare at the floor to not be noticed while walking. Most of the students knew that it was pointless to stop and harass him. they couldn't extort any money from him simply because he didn't have any and a whole four years off bullying had made his reaction or rather his refusal to give one really boring for them.

He still got the occasional nudge in the ribs or kick in the back but usually he could go on his way without being disturbed. Today most of the usual suspects were busy bragging to their friends about their upcoming holidays or we're just focused on getting out of class as quickly as they could. Damien had waited until most of the class was empty to leave himself. There was a pretty good chance he would have been pushed around ore casually thrown down if he tried to step outside before the majority of the students were gone.

But even as he exited the school, he didn't take the way home he usually took. Instead, he wandered around aimlessly through the city until he reached a small park. There was also a playground where he sat down in one of the swings after letting his schoolbag fall to the ground. He didn't really know what to do so he just sat there and thought about the occurrences off the last few days. When the sun was almost down, he begrudgingly stood up picked his bag from the ground and went on his way home.

But only a few meters away from the playground, he saw a girl being harassed by two, presumably, college students. They stood on either side of her to prevent her from running away and she looked really uncomfortable in her position. Damian stood still. He didn't have anything to do with this situation. He knew neither the girl nor the two men. He was about to turn away and leave when he remembered something. The only genuine advice his father had ever given him popped into his head. "If you are not how you are supposed to be, then be something else or just fade into obscurity".

Those were, without a doubt, cruel words, but they perfectly fit the situation. If Damien chose to be himself, he would just disappear out of this scenario. There wouldn't be anyone who would reprimand him for not stepping in. There wouldn't even be someone who would remember he was even there. The only one who would know was him. At that moment Damian was afraid. Not because he would be beaten up if he interfered but of just vanishing without anyone remembering. His hands shivered while he was trying to formulate a plan that would allow both him and the girl too get out of this situation unharmed.

He went up to the group of three and spoke up. "I don't think she likes your attitude. She seems uncomfortable. You should stop." He tried to sound as meek as possible, which wasn't a difficult feat to achieve. One of the men turned around, looked at Damian and sarcastically said: "Sorry, I forgot I gave a shit about your opinion". He turned around again and resumed speaking to the girl. Damien took a deep breath before taking a thick, hardcover book from his backpack.

He had tried to talk to them first to make sure he didn't have some sort of misunderstanding and to not just being accused of attacking them with no prior provocation. He gripped the back of the book and drove one of the edges in the spine of the one standing closest to him with all the force he could exert. The man screamed and collapsed on the ground from the pain. Damien's plan was to down the first guy and when the other tried to help his friend up he would grab the girl's hand and run. But instead, the other guy screamed: "son of a bitch", and punch Damian in the face.

He was thrown off balance and fell on his back. The man kept kicking him while he was down for a few seconds before he picked up the other guy and took off with him. Damian remained lying on the ground. He didn't have any sort of drive to stand up again. His plan had failed spectacularly and the only thing he got out of it was a bleeding nose and a lot of pain. He remained like that until the girl entered his view as she bend over to look at his face.

She had black hair and dark brown eyes. He thought she looked quite cute. She tried to help him up and say something but instead of taking the hand that was offered to him he turned himself from his back onto his stomach to stand up alone and ran as fast as he could manage in his state. The girl called after him but didn't follow. Probably because of the possibility of getting lost while chasing after him.

That would more than likely result with her in the exact same precarious situation as before. He didn't stop running when he got out of breath but only when he arrived at home and slammed the door shut behind him.

With heavy panting he dropped to the floor and tried to catch his breath. When he had managed to calm down a little, he took off his shoes and tried to take off his bag. only then did he realized that he had dropped it when the man had punched him. Damian went to the bathroom.

He splashed water onto his face because he noticed that, somewhere along the way, he had started to cry. When he managed to stopped crying, he looked up from the sink and stared into the mirror that hung above it. He stared at his own face, noticing every single imperfection. It was hard to guess which dimension of his face was bigger than the others because with all the excess fat, from the front his face looked almost perfectly circular. his hair was frizzly and because he lacked the money to go to the hairdresser it was unevenly cut. It also covered the entirety of his forehead and almost blocked his sight. Not because of a fashion choice he had made. He just tried to cover as much of his face as possible.

His eyes were a muddy brown. Those two eyes stared at him without any kind of emotion except disgust. His button nose was surrounded by a bunch of freckles that extended over both of his cheeks. His mouth was entirely too small, and his chin was as round as it would get. Every time he looked into the mirror, he fell into a spiral he had a hard time escaping from.

First came disgust over his physical appearance, then anger because of his position in life, Sadness because of his powerlessness, self-hatred because he never seemed to be able to put in enough effort to change his situation and to escape from that back to disgust.

Even this time he went through this cycle until he screamed and punched the mirror to break it. It didn't, but his punch managed to loosen the suspension of the mirror and brought it crashing down on his head. It burst into pieces and send him to the floor where he blacked out.