[centre] [h1][b][color=turquoise]♥Brody Cunningham♥[/color][/b][/h1] Holy shit, it actually got worse. From the depths of fashion hell crawled out an abomination in combat boots. And camo. There is never an excuse for camo. Ever. There was a very real urge rushing through Brody: an urge to reach across the room and slap some sense into the poor reject. Maybe they’d be lucky and he’d slap some of those hideous tattoos off her arms as well. Ahh, Brody, you truly are a man of the people. A saint, even. She asked if this was the S.P.I.R.I.T. Club. He looked at the board and scoffed on the inside. Was it really that hard to just look around before asking stupid questions? Maybe tall, pale, and brutal was beyond saving. Oh well. Now the Great Goth Gobbler might have some company. They could sacrifice some goats to their Goddess of Hideousness, or go kick puppies and blot out the sun. Was normality too much to ask from these people? Or did they inherit some sort of freak gene from their useless, drain-on-society parents? Andy stepped in to welcome the losers. Then Sidney went about declaring war on Andy’s club. Which was a good thing. After he went about explaining his theory on the disappearing students, Brody knew the kid was a loon. Which was sad, really. He wasn’t that bad to look at. Not ManCandy tier, mind you, but passable. He had the librarian look, and while nobody could rock that, he had a sort of nerdy charm. He might even be able to look past that but… Well… Crazy did horrible things to a man’s appearance. Even now, Brody could make out a slight twitchiness to the boy’s eye, a hint of deliriousness behind them. Maybe. Or he could be seeing what he was wanting. ManCandy shook Andy’s hand and announced himself to be a true newbie called Connie. Horribly lame name. Who does that to a child? A boy named Connie? Might as well call him Sue. No, from this moment forward, he would forever be known as ManCandy. [color=82ca9d]"H'lo. My name is Lillith Marjo,"[/color] Oh god, her voice actually made him want to vomit. She sounded like a castrated chipmunk. On helium. And probably speed. Seriously, if she could just turn the spaz levels down from eleven to literally anything below five, then she might not be completely repulsive. [color=82ca9d]"I hope none of you have heard of me or heard my voice before.[/color] Considering that he hadn’t yet shoved nails as far into his ears as possible, then no, he hadn’t. In fact, if he could keep things like that, life truly would be fantastic. [color=82ca9d]”[sub]brodyisafaggot.[/sub] That's all."[/color] … What…? Things started to simultaneously speed up and slow down. Did he...did she… ...faggot? This couldn’t be a coincidence. First the kid in the hall...then her… Faggot? No. Please. Not here. Not again. Faggot. Brody drew his mouth into a line. Faggot. He crossed his arms, hugging himself. Faggot. Those are just words, Brody. Faggot. They can’t hurt you. Faggot. Not anymore. Tarhead must have waddled up to the spotlight at some point, because he could now hear her voice. Though what was she saying? [color=ed145b]”...Faggot faggot faggot.”[/color] She shrugged. Brody’s eyes widened. She wasn’t really… [color=ed145b]Faggot faggot fag faggity fag fag.”[/color] Then she smiled at Andy. Fucking smiled at him. Sharing a little inside fucking joke with him. And apparently Machinehead wanted in on it, because she stepped up to speak next. [color=red]“Faaaaaaaaaaag. Faaag. Fag.”[/color] She smiled at everyone. Wasn’t it FUCKING funny? Look at the little faerie, frolicking about. Look at the little FAGGOT. Brody’s mouth quivered ever so slightly. He bounced his leg, looking off into the distance. His eyes shifted from object to object, trying to find something to blot out the...the… [color=bc8dbf]“Faaaagio. Fag.”[/color] Even the chomping of her gum was echoing that goddamn word. He had to get out. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Never again. It… [color=f6989d] “Fag”[/color] [color=#26a912] “Faaag”[/color] [color=82ca9d] “Faaag”[/color] [color=ed145b] “Faggio”[/color] [color=red] “Faggio”[/color] [color=bc8dbf] “Faggot”[/color] [color=fff79a] “Fag”[/color] … Well, he had to admit, their little harmonizing didn’t sound that bad. And the gaping wound it left on his heart? It would gro- Brody stood up, slightly shaking. He took a few steps toward the door. Then a few more. [color=turquoise]“Fuck this. I-I don’t need th-this.”[/color] He mumbled. It was barely more than a whisper, really. He kicked a desk, toppling it. It hit the ground, causing a loud crash to ring throughout the room. Brody left the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Fuck this. Fuck them. He didn’t need that. He didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done a fucking thing to any of them. That was wrong. Wrong. Fucking wrong. Fuck them all. Fuck them and their little reject convention. Fuck the plan. It wasn’t worth it. Brody could feel his eyes start to water up. His legs were moving, but everything was a blur. All he could think of was that word. It echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls and slamming back into his heart. [hr] [h1][b][color=turquoise]♥Brody Cunningham♥[/color][/b][/h1] [h2][b][color=turquoise]Freshman Year[/color][/b][/h2] [h3][b][color=turquoise]Gibbler High School, Gibbler, Oregon[/color][/b][/h3] “Faaaaaaag” Umph. Brody coughed, gasping for air. “C’mon, sissy, we’re just getting started. We’re gonna have some reeeaaal fun, yeah?” Brody sobbed. He looked up. The sky above was gray and it cried with him. The rain felt nice. Odd...all of this was happening but...but the rain was amazing. Umph. Back to Earth. Back to the shitty little alley, behind the shitty little dumpster, with those shitty little people. His arms were being pulled to either side. On one was Gregory Watsons, senior, and starting kicker for the Gibbler Coyotes. The other arm was being restrained by Antonio Giuseppe, the Coyotes’ star quarterback. And the ginger menace in front of him? The bastard tha- UMPH! Brody coughed violently. He was caught in the throat with that one. His eyes stung. His face was more soaked by his tears than the rain. And another one. Brody’s vision was starting to blur. He felt like he was only seeing out of one eye. He was only seeing one thing. Ethan Martin. The saving grace All-Star of the Coyotes. He was destined to end up in the NFL. And he was Brody’s first love. Unrequited love, mind you, but love nonetheless. Brody was head over heels for the guy. Speaking of heels… A foot slammed into the side of Brody’s face. He felt his legs give out on him. He fell, nothing but slack weight. Or he would have. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum were still propping him up. “Ahaahah, look at the little sissy fag. You gonna pass out, boy?” It was really Brody’s fault. He...well, he was careless. Mistake number one. When you’re a closeted guy in high school, you’ve gotta be careful. People have odd ways of battling boredom, and while Brody was more of a musical guy, he was sadly a doodler. This afternoon, he had doodled a death wish. B+E 4-EVA Maybe he would have been able to get away with that, but he had also written both of their names over and over in the notebook. Brody Cunningham. Ethan Martin. Mr. Brody Martin. “Hold this little faggot up. I’ll learn him right.” The pulled his arms in opposite directions while lifting him by his armpits. Someone had seen. Someone had to piss or use the pencil sharpener or some other bullshit. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Brody wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Someone saw it and they snatched it. And they showed Ethan. Ethan walked closer and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a short wood- Ethan’s hand tightened, and a blade shot out. A knife. Ethan pulled it up and waved it front of Brody’s eyes. “Whoa, hey. Ain’t that a bit too far?” “Ease up, E. The faggot ain’t worth that.” The ginger flushed crimson. “So what? You guys faggot lovers now? You gonna take Sissyfag here back home and sin together?” He grinned a lopsided, toothy grin. “You guys ain’t fags. Hold him there. He won’t say a damn thing. Ain’t that right, faggyboy?” The henchmen gulped uneasily. They exchanged nervous glances. This was going too far but… Well… You don’t piss off Ethan Martin. It just...no. Don’t. Bad things happen. He pushed the knife at Brody’s stomach. He pushed the blade against the shirt. Slowly. Softly. It made contact then...he kept pushing. It cut into his skin and Brody whimpered, pleading for it to end. No dice. With his free hand, Ethan punched Brody’s face, throwing his nose to one side. Blood started gushing out immediately. Ethan smiled. With the knife, he traced Brody’s shirt down the middle. slicing the buttons right off. He pushed back the shirt and looked for a moment. Then he sliced. One long line. Than two shorter lines perpendicular to it. He grinned a disgusting monster’s grin. Brody screamed, but one of the minions held something over his mouth, muffling him. One diagonal slash, than another in the opposite direction. Short slash connecting them. He screamed bloody murder each time the knife touched his skin. One of the hooligans punched him, causing his good eye to swell up. He could barely see. He tasted pennies rolling around in his mouth and...his ears were ringing. Ethan got creative with the last series of cuts. He made a three-sided square, then a two-sided triangle. What a fancy ‘G’. Ethan threw back his head and laughed hard. He pointed at his handiwork with his knife. “Lookee, boys. We did good. Now there’s a warning sign on the fag. You ain’t gonna perv on anymore good ole boys, now, are you?” He lightly sliced a line below the word. Then below that he did it again, pressing deeper. [u]FAG[/u] How fitting a label. “Come on, guys. Littering is wrong. Let’s put the trash where it belongs. But first…” Ethan grabbed Brody’s leg and straightened it out. The boy fought wildly against it, flailing about fiercely...but eventually, one of the other boys grabbed it and held it in place. [color=turquoise] “P-p-please no...not the l-leg.”[/color] Bad idea. Ethan laughed. And laughed. “‘Not the leg he says’. Hahaha, can you believe it? Not the leg.” There was horrible snap, followed by a howl of pain by one Brody Cunningham. Never before and never since has the boy ever experienced such pain. “Oops. Did I do that? Faggot.” Brody felt himself leave the ground, then he was moving, soaring, then he was… There was a squish. Brody landed on a black Hefty bag filled with whores know what. He heard laughter that began to fade away quickly. He was in so much pain. Everything hurt, stung, or was itchy. Brody wasn’t able to move. He just cried. Alone. Until he passed out. The faggot with the truth carved into his flesh wanted nothing more than death’s embrace. [hr] [h1][b][color=turquoise]♥Brody Cunningham♥[/color][/b][/h1] [h2][b][color=turquoise]Junior Year[/color][/b][/h2] [h3][b][color=turquoise]Edison High School, Sandalwood, Oregon[/color][/b][/h3] How’d he end up here? Brody looked about. He was in a bathroom. There were no urinals, he quickly noticed. Girls bathroom. He dropped to a knee and looked down the row of stalls. No feet. Clear. Wait...he looked back at the door, then to a window. Girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Seriously. Fuck. He had just stormed out to leave those fuckers and now…Now they’d be here soon. Those cruel bigots, ready to cut him down in order to defeat the gay agenda. Time for them… No. Y’know what? No. Fuck them. Fuck their club. Andy Fuckerson wants to scare some losers? Well no. Over Brody’s dead body. He looked around, looking for something that seemed out of place...but to no avail. Everything was just, well, bathroomly. Nothing out of the ordinary. But something felt…wrong. He couldn’t quite place it. It was almost like a feeling that he was being watched. Something… He went to the first stall. He hesitated then...kicked. Nothing. To the next one. Nothing. To the next one. Again...nothing. This was a waste of time. There was nothing. Anderson was just a fucking idiot. Brody ran his hand back through his hair then pulled it back and rubbed his mouth. Then he cried. Bawled even. It was just too much. Why? Why couldn’t he get out from underneath the fucking gay umbrella? Did it really have to follow him everywhere? No. Just no. Fuck it. He was done. It was already starting here. He’d just have to talk to mom. There were other high schools nearby. He cursed. It wasn’t fair. He was being careful...other than the clothes. Fucking hillbillies. Because he used soap, he was gay. Great. He walked over to the nearest sink and loosed some water. Brody removed his watch and placed it on the edge of the sink, more out of habit than anything. He pushed up his sleeves than tested the water. It was warm It felt nice. Huh. There was an odd smell… Whatever. Brody cupped some water then splashed his face. He would have to leave in a bit. His light makeup was already being attacked by the tears. Might as well clean up before leaving. Never let them see they hurt you. The fucking vultures. The go- ...what was that? What.... WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! Brody stared fearfully in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary at first glance but…there were four open stalls. Four. Brody had only opened three. The others were securely closed. What the actual fuck? He turned and looked around. Nothing. He dropped to a knee and looked under the walls. Nothing. Well then. Whatever. He was upset and...and Andy's stories were just getting to him. Whatever. It happened. Loserdom had infected him...but he'd survived. He turned back, ready to just wash his hands and be ou- … … … Five open stalls. Fi- CRRRREEEEAAAAKKKK Brody’s eyes shot open wide. The sixth stall door was moving. Slowly. … Brody could see an eye in the slit. Brody could see the madness dancing wildly… He turned around slowly, shaking harshly. Then he wept. All of the doors were closed. What the actual fuck was even going on anymore? Was he losing his min- The fourth door opened. Brody screamed at what he saw. Then he stopped screaming. [hr] [h1][b]^V^Michelle Harley^V^[/b][/h1] [h2][b]Literally Like A Second Later[/b][/h2] [h3][b]I'm Not Holding Your Hand On This One[/b][/h3] Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. She was late. She was so so so late. If she didn’t make it, the instructor would drop her from the lessons. But she couldn’t help it, she had to go. Bad. But… But was it worth going in there? She stood in front of the supposedly haunted girl’s bathroom. She was running late, so she had to hurry. She also had to go. Badly. But the other one she knew about was full up. … Just a quick in and out. She opened the door and walked in. Or at least started to. Something felt hella off about this room. Maybe it was just the stories she heard whispered about it but...she couldn’t do it. Oh well. She was a chicken. Bawk bawk. All she knew was that she couldn’t do anything in there. Before she left, she did notice something odd. There was a nice looking watch on one of the sinks. A very nice watch. A...man’s watch. … Huh. She dropped down and checked, but as she expected, the stalls were empty. She briefly considered swiping the watch, afterall it had been abandoned. But… No. She couldn’t go any deeper in that place. Hell no. So she left. [/centre]