Not My Hero

I bite my tongue, not giving him any reaction, and it only enrages him more.

“Colton.” Hearing my name snaps me out of the past, and my eyes shoot up. Mr. Donati gives me a concerned look as he places a hand on my shoulder. He keeps his voice low as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I mutter, shifting uneasily in my chair.

He nods, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he continues with class.

Shit, it’s the first time something like that happened. I’ve never had flashbacks before.

I clear my throat, and picking up a pen, I scribble on a page to keep my hand busy, but when I notice I’m trembling, I shove both my hands under the desk and clasp them tightly together. My heart is still beating like crazy as if it just happened.

That was the first time my father beat me so severely I couldn’t go to school for two weeks. We used meningitis as an excuse.

The bell rings, and while I’m gathering my stuff, Mr. Donati walks to me and places a piece of paper on my desk. “That’s my number. If you need to talk, just call. It doesn’t matter what the time is.”

Taking hold of the paper, I glance up at him.

None of my previous teachers cared. I was more off sick than at school toward the end of last year, and that’s part of the reason I have to repeat my senior year.

I begin to say, “I’m fi –” but Mr. Donati shakes his head.

“You’re not, Colton. I’d like to help but if you can’t talk to me, then go meet with the counselor. You need to talk to someone about what happened.”

I rise to my feet and shrug my bag’s strap over my shoulder. Shoving the paper with his number into the inside pocket of my jacket, I mutter, “Talking won’t change the past.” I walk to the door but then guilt creeps into my chest, and I pause. Glancing back at the teacher, I say, “Mr. Donati.”

“Yes.” His eyes lock on mine.

“Thanks for caring, though.”

Mr. Donati’s lips curve into a compassionate smile before I walk out of the classroom.

After the day from hell, I just want to go home, but I only make it to the lockers when I hear a loud bang, and my eyes dart toward the sound.

Michael has Brie pushed up against the lockers, and not thinking twice, I stalk toward them.

“No,” Brie whimpers while trying to free herself from his hold.

“No?” he sneers. “I thought you needed the money.”

I slide an arm between them and shove Michael away from Brie. Glancing at her, I snap, “Finish up so we can leave.”

I turn my gaze back to Michael, who’s glaring darkly at me. Then a smirk forms on his face. “Oh, brother, you’re really begging for a beating.”

“I’m not your brother.” I take a step closer to him. “Leave her alone.”

“Don’t tell me you’re into the weirdo,” he chuckles.

I give him a look of warning before glancing back to Brie. I wait for her to shut the locker then take hold of her arm. She’s so petite, it feels like I’ll break her bones if I tighten my grip too hard.

The moment we’re out of the building, she pulls her arm free from my hold.

“Seriously?” Michael laughs as he follows behind us. “I didn’t take you for a freak lover. I actually thought you were badass. Such a fucking shame.”

I know if I leave Brie here, the asshole will probably continue to bully her. I gesture to where my truck is parked. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Holy shit, will you look at that,” Michael hollers. “Freak managed to get herself some dick.”

I open the passenger door and snap, “Get in.”

Brie hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’ll walk.”

Tilting my head, I lean down so I can catch her eyes and only manage to hold them for a moment before she focuses on our feet. “You’re wasting my time. Get in so I can drop you off at home.”

Again she hesitates, but then she gets in. I slam the door shut, and walking around the front of the car, I mumble, “This day is un-fucking-believable.”

Micheal walks up to me, and I notice a group of girls trailing behind him. He’s just like Sully. An arrogant bastard who thinks he can do whatever he pleases.

“You’re picking the wrong side,” Michael warns.

“Baby, let's go,” one of the girl’s whines. “I want to get to Devil’s Bluff before everyone else.”

I climb behind the steering wheel and shove my bag into the space at Brie’s feet. Starting the engine, I give Michael the same look I always gave my father – impassive as fuck.

I reverse out of the parking, and unable to contain my anger, I bark, “Why do you let them push you around?”