"Come on miss, you have to go in there." Kellin glared at the nurse, making him back up a few steps. Which in turn caused two of the security guards to step out from their "hiding place" on the side of the truck. Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly climbed out of the truck and began moving towards the building.
"So this is where I'll be staying until I recover?" She made air quotes around the word recover. The guards nodded, one mumbling something about how quickly "this one" was going to break. "Lovely place, really." With a short laugh, she pushed the door open with her foot and stepped inside. Front desk person looked at her like she was diseased, and then grimaced when she saw her shoes. "Gotta problem with combat boots?" They were her babies, probably the only thing she cared about. Other than the boots she was wearing a pair of painfully tight dark jeans and a white and black button down, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. One of the guards pushed her towards the lady, and with a fake smile she approached the desk. "So like, apparently I'm a druggie and have to stay here." She pursed her lips and nodded, talking in the most annoying voice she could manage. "So like, can you direct me to like, my room or something?" The lady began tapping at her keyboard, but one of the guards had come up beside her and motioned for her to stop. "You don't want to let this one go anywhere without supervision. Call someone to escort her." Kellin glared up at the male. The lady was hesitant, but slowly she reached for the phone. "I'll call Zechariah...actually she's supposed to have a visit with him right about now."
School was hell. Work was hell. Home was hell. Life was hell. Actually, instead of continuing this, we're just going to go with everything, is hell. At school he was teased for being a "faggot" or teased for having a slight obsession with Johnny Depp. Or maybe they didn't know he was a bit attracted to boys and instead they teased him for being smart or having a rich daddy that gave him everything he wanted. Or so they thought. But he couldn't blame them. They didn't know. Maybe they didn't feel how he did, maybe they felt better teasing him. Who knew? But it wasn't right for him to hate them when he didn't know them. At work he was bossed around and called stupid or a slacker, when he was trying the best he could. But he didn't hate them either. Maybe he did appear to be a slacker to them, or stupid. At home it was a bit worse. Being called a useless piece of shit every ten minutes wasn't all that pleasing. Though he couldn't hate his dad. He didn't know his dad to hate him.
Though he hated his brother. More than anything in the whole entire universe. And his friends were right up there with him.
Stepping off the bus, he hoisted his mailbag over his shoulder and began walking towards "home". His friend used to drive him home, but his friend ditched him for his brother. JC hasn't had a friend since. Though luckily his ex-friend didn't participate in his brothers games. At least not the ones pertaining to him. As he continued to walk, he heard the familiar sound of his brothers Jeep pulling up behind him. Gritting his teeth, JC kept walking until he was forcefully pushed back. It was useless to even try and fight them anymore, it just made it worse. One of the boys took his bag and began dumping things out, and two others grabbed his arms and held them back as his brother stepped up in front of him. Like they even needed to hold him back. Since when did JC fight? And with that thought, his brother punched him. First in the stomach, then in the face. It sent him tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain, but after that he kept quiet, waiting for it to be over.
"So this is where I'll be staying until I recover?" She made air quotes around the word recover. The guards nodded, one mumbling something about how quickly "this one" was going to break. "Lovely place, really." With a short laugh, she pushed the door open with her foot and stepped inside. Front desk person looked at her like she was diseased, and then grimaced when she saw her shoes. "Gotta problem with combat boots?" They were her babies, probably the only thing she cared about. Other than the boots she was wearing a pair of painfully tight dark jeans and a white and black button down, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. One of the guards pushed her towards the lady, and with a fake smile she approached the desk. "So like, apparently I'm a druggie and have to stay here." She pursed her lips and nodded, talking in the most annoying voice she could manage. "So like, can you direct me to like, my room or something?" The lady began tapping at her keyboard, but one of the guards had come up beside her and motioned for her to stop. "You don't want to let this one go anywhere without supervision. Call someone to escort her." Kellin glared up at the male. The lady was hesitant, but slowly she reached for the phone. "I'll call Zechariah...actually she's supposed to have a visit with him right about now."
School was hell. Work was hell. Home was hell. Life was hell. Actually, instead of continuing this, we're just going to go with everything, is hell. At school he was teased for being a "faggot" or teased for having a slight obsession with Johnny Depp. Or maybe they didn't know he was a bit attracted to boys and instead they teased him for being smart or having a rich daddy that gave him everything he wanted. Or so they thought. But he couldn't blame them. They didn't know. Maybe they didn't feel how he did, maybe they felt better teasing him. Who knew? But it wasn't right for him to hate them when he didn't know them. At work he was bossed around and called stupid or a slacker, when he was trying the best he could. But he didn't hate them either. Maybe he did appear to be a slacker to them, or stupid. At home it was a bit worse. Being called a useless piece of shit every ten minutes wasn't all that pleasing. Though he couldn't hate his dad. He didn't know his dad to hate him.
Though he hated his brother. More than anything in the whole entire universe. And his friends were right up there with him.
Stepping off the bus, he hoisted his mailbag over his shoulder and began walking towards "home". His friend used to drive him home, but his friend ditched him for his brother. JC hasn't had a friend since. Though luckily his ex-friend didn't participate in his brothers games. At least not the ones pertaining to him. As he continued to walk, he heard the familiar sound of his brothers Jeep pulling up behind him. Gritting his teeth, JC kept walking until he was forcefully pushed back. It was useless to even try and fight them anymore, it just made it worse. One of the boys took his bag and began dumping things out, and two others grabbed his arms and held them back as his brother stepped up in front of him. Like they even needed to hold him back. Since when did JC fight? And with that thought, his brother punched him. First in the stomach, then in the face. It sent him tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain, but after that he kept quiet, waiting for it to be over.