The Pain of Love, chapter 1

Hannah's POV:
"No! Daddy, no." I whimpered, trying to shield myself from his furious blows. But the pain came. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it, but it came. The sharp, horrible pain. Even when Dad was long gone, knocked out drunk on the couch, there was the pain. I lay there, limp as a wet noodle, crying my eyes out. Familiar tears, they meant little anymore. Finally I forced myself into my room, and did what I had to do before bed.

The next morning, after I clothed myself in ripped, faded jeans and I dirty, torn, pink blouse, I cover the scars and bruises that decorated my arms and face with make up. Even though I only talked to 4 people at school and only 1 of them was a friend, I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

I met up with Jayde at the corner of the street, at the bus stop. Jayde Walker has been my friend since we were babies, barely a ripe 1 month old. Before the beating and pain began to attack me.

"Hey Jayde!" we hugged just as the bus pulled up. I followed Jayde to the only empty seat left. "Oh no." A mutter of horror escaped my lips. Right in front of our seat was Billie Joe Armstrong and Nakomis Fernedi. Right behind said seat was Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool. My 4 arch enemies. We were trapped. I grimaced and slid into the window seat. I almost barfed as the bus began to move and Fernedi and Armstrong decided to play lovey-dovey.


Nakomis's POV:
"I love you!" he hugged me, then I kissed him. That's why Hannah hates us. Because we actually have someone and flaunt it. She hates Tre because he's perverted, and Mike because he won't talk to her. Don't ask me why. I shook my head and began a game of tonsil-hockey with Billie. I intertwined my fingers with his and we got more into it.

I broke away for a second. "God I love you!" I announced, pushing him against the bus wall and really pushing into it. He was a great kisser.


Hannah's POV:
The sleeve of my baggy, gray sweater slipped down my arm a little; I noticed sweat washing away the cover up hiding my secret. Everything around me seemed to stop momentarily as Armstrong looked up for a second and saw the pain written on my arm.

"What. The hell. Is that?" he asked, breaking away from Fernedi. She glared at me an disappointment.

"Nothing," I answered hastily, pulling the sleeve quickly over my arm. I winced as the rough fabric scratched a bruise.

"That's not nothing. Do you cut yourself? Only nimrods do that."

"No," I lied, pulling up my hood to hide my face. Tears flooded my eyes as memories of last night filled my head.

"What? How friggin' sensitive are you? Nimrod isn't as bad as, say, slut or bitch or whore."

"Go to hell," I muttered, turning towards the window. The scenery going by mesmerized me, and soon I had rid myself of thought completely. Armstrong must have gone back to tongue-wrestling with Fernedi, because he didn't bother me again.

The bus screeched to a halt, and I jumped up, only to be pushed back down again by Armstrong. Jayde barely slipped away, but I was stuck with Armstrong as his crew, trapped like a rat as the rest of the class trooped out. I followed Armstrong and Fernedi as they slipped in behind, and Dirnt and Cool followed me. I tried to run as I jumped off the last step, but Armstrong held me tight. He pushed me away from his friends and into the bus wall.

"Stay out of my way," we warned coolly. "And no one will hear about your little problem." Hiding my arm from everyone but the two of us, he pulled up my sleeve to reveal the pain written there, inflicted my both me and my dad.

"Why do you want to hurt me so badly. Can't you at least hit me rather than do this? Why do you hate me?" Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

For a second I almost thought I saw a look of sympathy from Armstrong. Then, without a word of response, he simply turned and walked away.