8 – The Turn.

Walking with Mallory Nelson was, in Bart's discernment, an idyllic and unreal dream.

The entire time the two were in on their way to school, Mallory didn't speak. Instead, she would give Bart subtle glances of assurance. Either she knew he was troubled and didn't want to ask about it out of respect, or she simply thought talking wasn't necessary.

That being said, Bart's mind was at ease. It was as if the mere sight of her was a relief to his anxiety-stricken thoughts. He silently plodded on until the two of them caught sight of the college gate.

Mallory turned to Bart on one heel, grinning amiably. "I guess I'll be heading to the other wing now."

"I see." Bart slightly bowed his head. "Thank you for accompanying me up to this point." Mallory tilted her head to the side.

"Don't worry about it. We're schoolmates. We should get to know each other better. Bart, right?"

Bart nodded.

"See you."

Smiling, Mallory waved a free hand to-and-fro and ran past the gate and to the left wing of the college building. Bart sighed gently and went to the right wing.

As soon as Mallory Nelson left his side, the concerns danced into his psyche again. The mark on his left hand from last night's incident. The shape that seems to be following him in his sleep and to school.

Both were topping the 'weird things that happened to me this week' list.

A few minutes after, Bart entered his classroom. It was abuzz in the usual student-to-student banter - but as soon as he arrived some of them turned his way with questionable looks on their faces.

Bart groaned out of hearing range. No doubt, gossip has reached their ears and they were just waiting for the main attraction to show up. Ducking underneath his arms crossed in front of his desk, he listened. Their conversations weren't even that hushed - it was as if they wanted him to hear about it. 

"Someone told me over on Chitter Bart Owens fainted during the Festival parade yesterday."

"I heard about that. They said he was screaming his hand on fire when in fact, it never was. Think he's going crazy?"

"Why wouldn't he? With the amount of bullying he gets everyday, he's bound to lose some screws."

"Hey, easy. He can hear you."

"Come on. As if he'll do something about it."

The classroom door creaked open, and the professor's voice caused everyone to hush.

"Good morning, class. Gonna discuss a few things. There'll be a quiz about it afterwards, so don't go snoozing off on me."

Bart lifted his head. There was someone standing in front of his desk - and he realized it was his professor for World Literature. The bespectacled, kind-faced and scarf-wearing Mr. Cypress Tamayo. As usual, he wore his long coat riddled with pockets, each hosting a ballpoint pen, a notebook or a pay slip sticking out like he had recently forced it in in a hurry. The man was staring at him, adjusting his reading glasses.

"Everything A-OK with you, Bartholomew?"

"Ah."

Bart adjusted his seating and straightened his back. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Cypress grinned at him. "Well, if you have any other problems and you need an older guy to give you some life advice, just look for me in the Faculty Room, you hear?"

The gentle look on Mr. Cypress' face had no room for Bart to say no. Nodding, Bart watched as the man quickly went back to the front of the class, eliciting his female classmates' gazes of admiration.

The face. The appeal. His tendency to aid people in need.

No wonder he's the lady-killer teacher of Eldridge College.

Still, Mr. Cypress was a huge help. His lessons never failed to put Bart in rapt attention. In time, he had nearly forgotten his cycle of woes.

Until noon came.

---------------------------------------------

Schoolwork came in a truckload. It was enough to keep professors sated until the college's Foundation Day in two weeks, but Bart was confident he could finish everything in a matter of days. All he needed was peace and quiet.

Although.. with the way things are... peace and quiet would bring in what he had been avoiding since he arrived at the school.

Bart walked in a turtlish pace towards the school canteen. It was a building of its own situated behind the college building, and it would take at least 30 minutes to get there at the speed he was going at. While moving, he stared at the ground. He didn't have the guile to look at people's faces.

Somehow, he expected that if he ever did, he'd see them gossiping about him going nuts.

<Things just won't seem to give me a break..>

Just as he managed to process that within his head, a clump of rolled up paper hurtled towards his cheek. It was heavy. Bart shuffled backward at the hit, the clump falling to his feet.

No doubt, there was a rock in the middle of that paper clump.

"Hey, Bartie-boy."

The sly voice of the senior college student that frequented around Bart floated around in their approach. Flanked by his two friends-slash-loyal goons, Bart stopped moving as they came closer. He knew they wanted something - and he wanted to get it over with.

"We heard bad stuff happening around you, bub." said the head honcho of the senior trio, slinging his arms around Bart's shoulder. "That's gotta be a sign you're going bonkers. You should have yourself checked to a shrink."

"Why show sympathy, Sid? He probably deserves it," said the senior who was by the left of 'Sid'. He snickered. "Who knows what sort of weird and disgusting hobby he's doing at home? Maybe jacking off to hentai got into his head."

"Now that doesn't make sense, man. Jacking off to hentai does that to a guy?" said the other senior on Sid's right. "Then that'd mean half of the weebs in this school would be as loco as him by now."

"Easy, guys. We're not here to screw him that way," said Sid as he neared his face to a downcast Bart. "Got the money, bro?"

Bart pulled out his lunch allowance from his pocket. The three received it greedily. Sid counted the bills in hand and his eyes seemed to go over it twice.

Bart twitched nervously. Something was up. Sid's face darkened in an instant.

"Hey. How come this is less amount than yesterday?"

Bart gritted his teeth. His uncle must've forgotten to count the allowance. It was always a fixed amount - and to these men, it was enough for them to spend on whatever shit they wanted.

Sid's hands reached for his collar and forced Bart towards the closest wall. "The fuck's this? You starting to skimp out on us now, Bart? Thought we had a deal that you'd give us the same shit everyday?"

"Look - it may have been a mistake."

Bart cleared his throat. Normally he wouldn't speak and just receive whatever beating they would go along with, but this time, he just wanted to get out of the situation. His mind was still distraught. "It's probably my uncle. He forgets to count when he's on a rush to work. I can give you twice the amount tomorrow. Please. I really need to go somewhere."

"Oho... someone thinks he can weasel his way out of this," said Sid's left-seat. "You snitched some for yourself, admit it. You're gonna wish you didn't do that to Sid."

Without warning, Sid threw a punch on Bart's stomach. The blow reverberated throughout his body and he crumpled to the ground in a kneel. Sid's goons held both his arms, as if to keep him from falling completely.

"You think you're pretty smart trying to talk your way out of this, Bartie-boy?"

Sid cracked his knuckles. He looked at Bart wearing a devilish and unhinged smile. Bart's vision flew out of focus. Once more, there were people looking at him from afar but preferring not to get involved..

...there was Mallory Nelson. She stared - at something else that caught her eye past him.

... and the shape that had been following him, standing to his left from the corner of his eye.

"!!"

"Lying losers like you need to be taught a lesson," Sid went on to say, hand reaching out to Bart. He ignored the growing fear in Bart's eyes. The color draining from his face.

Bart wanted to wrestle free of his captors and run. He was frightened. That thing stood there, as if waiting to get to him.

He was frightened.

He was frightened.

He was...

... angry.

He didn't know how. All of the sudden, he could feel the rage seething from him. Pure, unadulterated rage. A rage he never experienced before.

He was pissed. Pissed at the situation. Pissed at what the world was putting him through.

Pissed at three men looking at him like he was an ant born to be crushed under their feet.

In his anger, he heard a subtle whisper in his heart.

A whisper, foreign and unnatural.

<HURT. THEM.>

The voice overwhelmed him with strength. Strength to yank himself out and knock his bullies aside. Strength to pull out a ballpoint pen from his pocket..

And to the horror of onlookers, stab the pointed end on Sid's leg.

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NOTE: @JeielYozama here! I felt pretty refreshed to type a new chapter after cleaning the house! Bart suddenly turning on his bullies... what brought this change of heart? Plus, this shape watching over him is starting to turn a little more creepy for comfort..

Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know. I'll keep writing as long as the idea flows in. See ya!