His Broken Plaything

It's the middle of autumn in August, Halloween's right around the corner, and for some reason, Matt and his buddy's decided to play "Trick or Treat" early by dumping ice-cold water on me.

"Wow, Lyla, you look sexy when soaked."

Matt licked his lips, that smug, disgusting smirk glued to his face while his friends laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

Matthew Brown, the self-proclaimed king of the jocks, lives for making my life a living hell. Pranks, insults, and whatever else he can throw my way, all just part of his daily routine. And now that Halloween is here, he's probably planning something even worse this time. As always, his loyal sidekicks are right behind him. Tommy Reynolds, the guy who's only use in the group is to be that look out and Jake Hunter, the privileged rich kid with daddy's credit card and an ego the size of Texas.

"Ew! Matt, don't be disgusting, will you?"

Jake sneered at me like I was a rodent, but he still couldn't stop himself from cracking up.

"Yeah, man, she dresses like a grandma thinking she's cool. You wanna hook up with her granny?"

Tommy's kick sent my school bag flying toward the alley's entrance.

"If she has one, maybe I'll stop by for a threesome,"

Matt added.

I gagged. I mean, literally. These guys are psychotic.

"You do this every day. Doesn't it get boring?"

I sat up, shivering and dripping to the floor. They towered over me like three giants ready to stomp me into the ground.

"Nobody gave you permission to speak, freak,"

Tommy snapped.

"Let her talk,"

Matt interrupted, tilting my face up with his finger like he cared.

He didn't.

Four years. Four years of being bullied and humiliated because I wasn't privileged enough to fit into Hillsville Academy. Getting in on scholarship wasn't supposed to be a crime but here I am serving a daily sentence of constant humiliation.

For guys like Matt, Tommy, and Jake, anyone who didn't have their kind of money might as well be invisible.

"We didn't see you at graduation, so we thought we'd come find you,"

Matt smirked, holding my face to look at him.

"You didn't even stay for the class photo,"

Tommy chimed in.

I pushed Matt's hand off my face.

"I didn't think you cared about me that much."

My voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Of course we do. That's what friends are for, Lyla."

"Friends?"

I cringed so hard my body showed it.

"You call bullying me friendship after I rejected you freshman year?! Are you serious Matt?."

Jake snorted.

"She's got a point."

"I just feel sorry for Cherry,"

I shot back. Matt's jaw twitched.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

he said, voice sharp.

"You lost the bet, didn't you? Trying to see if I was an easy catch. Must've been fun explaining that to your girlfriend. Although Cherry only has about two brain cells rattling around up there, so maybe she didn't mind."

I managed to get myself on my feet. Matt's smirk faltered, just for a second.

"Watch it dork, your walking on thin ice."

I stepped closer, glaring up at him. "And don't you ever get tired of playing with the same toy, Matt? You're Matthew Brown, 'the' Matthew Brown. You've got money to burn. Surely you can afford a better target than me. Or did you go broke?"

Jake stepped forward.

"What did you just say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I not say it in a language you understand? Do you three share one brain cell, or do you just pass it around on rotation?"

Jake lunged, grabbing me by the collar.

"Now, now boys. It's not my fault, it's true. Even after all the money you guys claim you have, your only gonna depend on daddy in the future"

"Watch your mouth, freak, or I'll-"

Jake warned

"You'll what? Prove I'm right?"

I shot back.

His punch knocked the wind clean out of me. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as pain shot through my ribs.

"Jesus, Jake,"

Tommy muttered, half-laughing.

"You guys are sooo predictable."

I forced out a laugh despite the pain.

"Four years of this, and you think you're gonna break me now?"

Matt leaned closer, that devilish smirk returning.

"You like pain, Lyla?"

"Four years of your lame-ass 'torture' and you still don't know me, huh?"

I grinned through gritted teeth.

Before Matt could move, I grabbed his hand and pulled him off balance.

"Come on, Matthew. Give me your best shot."

The next hit knocked me to my knees. I tasted blood, and for a second, everything spun. But I stayed grinning.

"Damn, that was a good one. Who's next?"

"You're sick,"

Tommy laughed, though I could hear the nerves in his voice.

"Oh, don't act so concerned."

I staggered back to my feet, it was hard staying still with how bad my ribs were aching. Truth be told , I need an escape plan and fast or things might take a wrong turn.

An idea sparked in my head all of a sudden. I coughed, clutching my chest. My breaths came faster, forced wheezes. I clawed at my neck, shaking uncontrollably.

"I... I can't breathe. My inhaler-"

I pointed at my bag lying in the dirt.

"Please..."

Tommy hesitated.

"Is she serious? Shit, she's having an asthma attack!"

Matt looked horrified.

"You punched her too hard, Jake!"

"Are you shitting me right now! You punched her harder!"

Jake snapped.

"You punched her first, if she dies your taking the fall for us"

"What do you mean 'us'?"

Tommy joined in on the fight.

"my in-inhaler, please!!"

I let out another cry,

Tommy bolted to my bag and passed it desperately to me. Scattering the contents, I grabbed the heaviest textbook I had in there and swung it as hard as possible at Tommy.

Taking advantage of the confusion I knead Matt on his groin and elbowed Jake on his jaw as hard as I could before grabbing my bag to make a run for it.

I broke out onto the street, gasping in the chilly autumn air. Philadelphia traffic blared around me, headlights flashing as cars zipped by.

Behind me, Matt yelled, "Get her!"

And I ran like hell.

I ran as fast as I could, not giving a damn where I was headed. I didn't stop until I reached the first place I thought could hide me. An unfinished building that was at sight. The place was dark and quiet, and I didn't waste time wondering about the potential dangers of trespassing. I just needed a spot to vanish, fast.

I scaled the NO TRESPASSING sign and ducked into the construction site, my heart hammering against my ribs. The smell of sawdust and fresh cement made me sneeze. I found a corner near a pile of wooden beams and squeezed myself between them, praying no one saw me.

God, I was small. 5'1" and barely 56 kilograms. It's probably why Matt thought I was easy to mess with. The smaller you are, the easier it is to break you, right? But I wasn't about to let that happen today. Not if I could help it.

Minutes passed, then more minutes, then even more. Silence. No footsteps. No yelling. Maybe Matt and his friends had given up. Maybe they'd been chased off. Maybe it was my lucky day.

I held my breath, listening for anything that could give me away.

The place was a maze of loose gravel and half-built walls. The construction workers had already gone home, leaving behind dust-covered cement bags and wooden scaffolding. I glanced up, past the dark ceiling beams, and wondered where the hell I was even going. My mind kept drifting back to Dad, still laying in that hospital bed. Six years now. Six years of me visiting him while the world kept moving without us. I missed his cooking, the pies he baked, those old documentaries he'd force me to watch. He wasn't that old, but it felt like he was. And now, it was just me. Just me, stuck in this messed-up life, with no way out.

Then, suddenly, I heard footsteps. Slow. Heavy. A muffled cry echoed down the stairwell.

Shit.

I froze, my body tensing, my heart thumping so loudly I thought it might give me away. Someone else was here. And I had no idea who they were.

I crept down the stairs, as quietly as I could, holding my breath, the fear gnawing at me. If they found me, I'd be done for. But I couldn't make a run for it, not yet, since there was no way out I had to know who I was dealing with.

When I reached the bottom, I could hear voices. Low. Muffled. I peeked around the corner and froze.

There were four of them. Four shadowy figures standing in the dim light of the unfinished room.

I bit my lip to stop myself from gasping. This was bad. Worse than bad.

One of them was holding something. A blade. A knife perhaps, it looked sharp. Glittering as the sun set. The guy was smiling, all evil and twisted as he stood over someone lying on the floor. Blood stained the concrete, trailing toward the corner where another figure was just leaning against the wall, puffing on a cigarette. The third one was reloading a gun like it was just another Tuesday.

My stomach dropped, and I held my breath. The figure on the floor was crying. Begging.

"Please, please..."

A scream followed. Piercing, and I almost lost it right there.

"Shut up, or you'll lose more than just a finger."

That voice. It wasn't Matt's. It was rougher, colder. My mind raced, but I couldn't process what I was seeing.

I crept back, inching toward my hiding spot behind the wooden beams, praying they didn't notice me. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.

Those weren't Matt and his friends, what the hell did I get myself into?!