Trigger warning for depression, suicidal thoughts, and reflection on past trauma such as child abuse, neglect, and sexual harassment/r@pe. If any of these bother you please, please stop reading this book immediately and find something nicer to read. These will be reoccuring themes as well as violence in this book. Another thing I want to make clear is that while this book has lgbt themes, this is not a romantic book. The relationship between Ghost and Nico is toxic as fuck and there I'm not trying to endorse this type of behavior. Maybe I'll write something cute and shit in the future, but from here on out I want to tell you this book will feature mentally unstable characters unhealthily burying and punching their emotions into a bigger mess. For those who don't leave... hey I'm back...
I was injured. There was no way to go around it, I was in piss poor shape. As an injured individual I learnt one thing: nobody really cared about you anymore. I wasn't Whitey getting cheers and whoops as I walked the halls, I was just poor, little, insignificant Nico all alone with nobody in the whole fucking world that gave a damn about him. I never got attacked or needed a body guard because Nico wasn't a threat. Whitey was.
Now I could really reflect on Whitey. When did I start becoming less of a Nico? More of a nameless, faceless color that everyone saw. On the outside I was Whitey, but what about on the inside? Was I still him there?
All this shit passed my head in around two seconds. Insignificant towards my current task that was happening right now. Training. Training to get a chance to obliterate a slimy false king with no power other than perversion. A ghost.
Step, step, dodge, step, dodge, dodge, step, dodge. There was a pattern, but that was perfect because everyone fought in patterns. At least at first they did, but you have to start somewhere.
Dodge, step, punch, step, punch, step, dodge, step. I circled the punching bag once, twice. Always looking for an invisible open spot from an item that couldn't fight back.
Grip, knee, knee, slam, bam, punch, dodge. The more and more that bag moved the angrier I got. I didn't know why. Why I wasn't able to fight like this.
Punisher was so soon, yet so far away. I could never manage to make up the distance between us with just this short timeframe, yet it felt like the months were streching into years.
"Hey kid, it's my turn."
I turned around to see some lady. That was really all the description she needed. Lady. Sighing, I spun around and left, tightening the loose bandages on the way.
I could do situps, but not pushups. Or I could look for something to do. But I didn't want to fuck.
Normally I would have run to Saanvi. Somewhere along the way she had learnt how to stave off boredom. When? I don't know. Fuck, I didn't know why. Why did people do anything anyways?
God everything wasn't correct. Nothing was wrong? It was in my palms, my life, but they were shaking. My palms. My hands were shaking and everything was falling apart. It was like I was drowning again.
And he was there everytime. He'd grab my shaking hands and rip them apart, rip those god forsaken things right off my arm and hold them to his face as I bled to death on the floor. As I drowned again and again right at his feet.
They were not the same, but they were. They both loved me, but didn't.
They loved to hurt me.
I threw up. What was there to throw up? Nothing. I hadn't eaten yet. It was just my body pushing anything out. Maybe I could throw up my heart. Watch it beating right in front of me. We'd both let go together. Just me and myself.
And then I woke up. I wasn't anywhere different. I was in a crowded hallway, there was still bile on the floor. I was just awake. Everything inside, everything fine.
I got up. I kept walking. I was fine. There would be a fight soon. When I healed. In a month.
Was I ready? No.
"Students, classes start at exactly 5:30 pm. Do not be late or risk disciplinary instruction for the rest of the day."
Oh fuck. Classes. I'd been here three weeks now. The cafeteria was gone, at least for now. I was a normal kid.
I had 30 minutes to fuck around. Fuck around with nobody, but fuck around. Perhaps I could sneak into the infirmary. Slit Thrasher's throat with a cheap beer bottle. Punch Ryland ... or find the two. I was bored, they were probably bored.
I ran to my room. If there was nothing to do, I could at least get one of them to spar with me.
It almost felt like there weren't two more weeks until I fought Punisher.
Sorry I've been gone so long. I had to take care of a funeral. Anyways, I think we're approaching the end of the book. We've got some more plot, sure, but we're getting close to finally seeing the Punisher v Whitey fight happen. Anyways, how shit do you think the schools managing system is? For a school made to correct dysfunctional children they seem to promote some shitty ideas.
Nico Vaught lived his whole life in his father’s basement. Days turned into years and the boy’s heart turned cruel and wicked. When he is saved by child services and brought to a new home he gets a chance to start over. Except Nico isn’t like that. A human terror, he switches schools and homes quickly until he’s given one last chance. Cheshire’s School For Untamed Brats. The place is filled with the worst of the worst, but maybe that’s exactly what Nico needed. A good reality slap.
**Warning** This story contains triggering themes of past sexual abuse, violence, homophobia and other things. If you can’t handle evil people doing evil things I beg you to read something else. This isn’t marked romance - - it’s marked horror and for a good reason too...