RAGE by Kimberly A. Bettes Read Free Book Online Page B

my hair, my eyes, my ears, my nose, and my mouth.
    I threw up. I couldn’t help it. I threw up in the toilet, getting plenty on me and the toilet seat. I watched as my vomit mingled with my diarrhea, and hoped this was only a nightmare.
    “Gross,” Taylor shrieked.
    Funny. He thought me puking was gross but thought nothing of shoving my face into my own diarrhea.
    “Let’s go,” Taylor said.
    “Wait,” Dominic demanded. “One more time.”
    He plunged me forward again, this time, submerging me in diarrhea and vomit.
    My body retched and shook. I jerked and struggled, but it didn’t help. He didn’t hold me down as long this time. He pulled me up, let go of my hair, and kicked me in the lower back before leaving.
    “Shit for brains,” he said as he left the stall.
    The two of them laughed hysterically as they left the restroom, probably to go tell the other boys how they’d once again made a fool of ol’ Boozer Loser.
    I collapsed onto my side on the floor of the stall and vomited.
    My stomach gurgled again, and this time it didn’t stop there. I wouldn’t have had time to get up and get my pants down and sit on the toilet even if I’d have had the energy to try. So I emptied myself into my pants, and I didn’t care. What was a little diarrhea in my jeans when my upper body was covered in it?
    For a while, I lay there, praying for death to find me. When I saw that it wasn’t going to, I got up, weak and exhausted, and made my way to the sink, breathing only through my mouth.
    I turned on the water and stuck my head under the faucet. I rinsed off the best I could, watching chunks of meat loaf and poop fall from my hair and find their way down the drain. Using the rough paper towels, I wiped myself off the best I could. I looked in the mirror and knew it was going to take far more than a rinse in a sink and some cheap paper towels to make me look better.
    I had chunks of crap still in my hair and stuck to my shirt. The puke had soaked into the shirt and couldn’t be wiped away. And then there was my jeans and underwear. Both were filled with watery crap. It was running down my legs.
    Two thoughts were in my head.
    One, at least it was my own puke and crap.
    Two, how was I going to get home? I wasn’t going to my next class for sure. And that sucked because it was Art, and it was my favorite class. But I couldn’t go like this.
    I was too tired and angry to go anyway. The best thing for me to do was go home, which brought me back to how I was going to get there from here. I didn’t want to show my face in the hall. I would just have to leave my backpack in my locker. Other kids were in class, and other grown-ups were at work. Surely no one would see me.
    I took a deep breath, smelled the awful odor of vomit and diarrhea, gagged, and then headed home.

Chapter 9
     
    I stood in the shower, letting the hot water turn my skin red, until Travis pounded on the door. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. I’d hoped he would stay in bed until I’d had a chance to sneak into my room. But I guess not because he was beating on the door hard enough to rattle the mirror hanging above the sink.
    Quickly, I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist, and left the bathroom without drying myself.
    Travis glared hatefully at me as I walked past him. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything. He went into the bathroom, and I went into my bedroom and closed the door.
    After I dried myself, I put on sweatpants and a t-shirt, and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over me. I laid there for awhile thinking about what Dominic and Taylor had done to me, and I fell asleep thinking about all the things I’d like to do to them.
    When I opened my eyes the next morning, it took a second for me to remember the events of the previous day. When the memory came back to me, it brought with it the anger I’d felt toward them. The memory of my head plunged into the toilet filled with my own diarrhea was enough