2Chapter One:
Why?
A pale, sand blonde boy of fifteen ran in horror down the gray street as rain poured over him, drenching him. He would sometimes slip on the cobblestone street he ran down. The street lights were faded and were just blinking on, one by one. He would look back often to see if some unknown pursuer was close at hand. The scrawny boy ran as fast as he could. He heard heavy footsteps behind him, thumping down the same way he had just come. Horror struck his face. They were gaining on him. He had to outrun them, before they caught him again.
"Get back here, you damn puff!" one of the pursuers screamed after the boy.
"Yeah, we're not finished with you, Sammy-boy!" another taunted. Sam saw his house just a block away. He was almost there. A bruise started to form on his forehead from what looked like a serious beating. Sam ran over to the sidewalk. But as he reached the curb, his foot caught in a gutter, and he fell to the ground. He broke the fall with his hands. He was about to get up, when he was shoved harshly to the ground.
A large, tough-looking boy, about a year older than Sam was standing above him. Sam turned and stared in horror. They had caught him again! He could only imagine what they were going to do to him this time. His heart raced.
"Where's your big, strong boyfriend now, huh, Sammy?" The boy had an ugly sneer on his face. The second boy caught up as well. This one was strong too, but less ugly as the first. In fact, he was very popular at school, and most girls crushed on him.
"Hey fagboy! Thought you could outrun us? Think again!" The second boy kicked Sam harshly in the side. Sam screamed loudly. The first one bent down, picked up Sam by his wet, mussed hair, and punched him severely in his mid-face. Sam's nose began to bleed.
The pain was too much for Sam. He started to cry, and curled up in a ball. The two boys sneered and laughed at what they had done. Suddenly, a man in an apron and a dark blue wool sweater stepped out of a butcher shop with his cleaving knife in one hand.
"Damn you, kids! Leave that boy there alone! I've used this knife on bigger people than you! Don't think I won't use it!" the butcher yelled.
The boys were stunned for a second, but finally laughed at the butcher and said, "Come to save the fag?!" The two ran off laughing.
The butcher took Sam, still curled up and crying, and brought him indoors. He stood Sam up, looked at him in the eyes, and said, "Sammy, are you alright? Those two almost tore you to shreds!" The butcher's British accent was obvious.
Sam was heavily crying, and was near hyperventilating. He finally lost control and fainted in the stout man's arms.
Sam woke up about an hour later in his bedroom. At first, he couldn't remember what exactly had happened, or how he got to his room. Then, a rush of all that had happened sped through his mind. He began to cry. He remembered him being caught by Chris and Julian in the school bathroom with a boy he had liked from his Geometry class. They had been kissing in one of the stalls after the days classes. When Chris and Julian had caught them, they were stunned, and ran out only because the boy Sam had been making out with was on the rugby team. It was when Sam was walking home that it began to rain, and Chris and Julian had caught Sam, and started to beat him up. Sam got away, and ran home, but they had caught him again. That was when the butcher, a family friend of Sam's, stepped in to help Sam out. It was terrible! How could Sam go back to school now? Everyone must know by now. And more of the school bullies would be after him. He pulled the covers over his head, and began to cry again.
The next day was Thursday. Sam wasn't really sure if his mother would make him go to school or not. She was a tough woman, and didn't believe all that much in sympathy. But this day, she came in with an old silver tray with the family's basic glass china. She had prepared some Cream of Wheat for Sam.
"I understand if you don't want to go to school today, Sammy. Ya must be traumatized. You can eat this if you want to. Don't make much difference to me. Just remember, tomorrow'll be a different story" she said. She walked out of his room and quietly shut the door. The old floorboards creaked as she walked away, and down the stairs.
Sam wasn't hungry. In fact, he stayed in bed the whole day, not saying anything. When supper time rolled around, he found that forgetting food wasn't the greatest things to do. He looked over at the bowl that was still sitting on his bedside table. It would be cold and gross, but he had to eat something. Going downstairs just wasn't an option in his mind. He reluctantly ate the whole bowl, and finally satisfied, fell back onto his bed, and fell asleep.
The sun came up next day over a clear day in the suburbs of Bristol. Sam woke up with dread. He knew he had to go to school, but he couldn't comprehend how he would even live through it. He half-heartedly got his things ready. His schoolwork was unfinished, but that was the last thing on Sam's mind at the moment.
He wouldn't even eat breakfast. He didn't see a point in eating.