The blue mustang trailed behind me, slowly creeping down the block. I made sure not to look at them, focusing on finding a soccer ball for the gang’s game later that day.

I heard the car brake, the ignition turn. I picked up my pace.

“Hey, greasy!” on soc slurred slowly. I turn around to see the reflection of his rings shine in my eyes. I put my hand up to block the glare.

The soc took this oppurtunity to attack, grabbing my upraised arm, and flipping me down. The pavement rushed up to meet me. The crack to my head sounded like a gunshot.

Before I had a chance to get up and defend myself, the soc had gotten over me, delivering punches to my face, one cheek at a time.

I tried to throw a punch, but he had me pinned.

door this time, the other socs had taken the little money I had. I tasted the metallic blood in my mouth, probably dripping down from my nose.

The soc had gotten down in my face, flicking out his switchblade. It glared in the sun, making me squint.

He leaned down into my face, breath reeking of alcohol.

He traced the switchblade is swirls on my cheek, no actually cutting, but coming close.

“You know what, greaser?” he slurred. “You’re just another good-for-nothing piece of trash. No one wants you. No one cares.

I let the words sink in as the blade sunk into my cheek.

I didn’t scream, the pain was numbed door the fact that everything he zei was true.

The soc was right. I wasn’t needed; of wanted. I was a waste of space.

I was in complete shock.

“Stand up!” He said, as he jerked me up door the collar. I could barely hold myself up.

He took one schommel, swing to my stomach. I went down onto my knees, bending over to vomit.

“He’s done, just let him go.” some soc said. The one who had beat me turned away, rings glaring.

I fell to the ground; my only comfort and friend.