#I'm eating the last of the bread i had stored away (thank you freezer)

[transgender-catboy]

tomorrow we find out if the human body can sustain itself with only 2 ✌️! count that, 2! oranges, some water, and maybe a spoonful of crispy onions (ya know, like, the salad topper?) if I'm able to tolerate the weird oily texture it leaves in my mouth

[summ6rbummer]

PATRICK HOCKSETTER X FEMALE BULLY VICTIM PT. 2

ITS MORE THAN BULLYING NOW.

patrick x reader bully victim

again, overall tw and the same ones as last time. also the reader has only a mom in this, so sorry if you don't have one or you dont like yours.

--------

its been a few days, and i genuinely cant figure out what patrick was talking about on friday. what did he mean by 'im real and i think you are too." what does that mean? of course patrick is real, nobody that sadistic could be fake, but then what did he mean that i was too? god why does he have to be so mysterious all the time? i just want an answer to all of this..

--------

i try and shove it to the back of my mind, as i walk downstairs to make something to eat. jesus this is weird. im kind of glad he decided to do that yesterday, so then i could have the entire weekend to think over it. this is so crazy. i have no idea if i'm more nervous to go back to school now or not..

my mind was going 100000 miles per hour as i stretch on my tip toes and grab a box of cereal from the cabinet, and then the milk from the fridge. there was a note from mom on the counter next to the fruit bowl.

hey honey,

i had to go into work early to help mike with a project. maybe go to Emma's house later, but i wont be home until 10 ish. there's a pizza in the freezer.

love you!

i slurped cereal out of my spoon as i read the note and smiled to myself. i should go to Emma's house. i haven't seen her in a minute and it'll help get my mind off this whole 'patrick' situation. i nodded in agreement with myself, then put my empty bowl in the sink and went back to my room.

i fixed up my bedhead, and then grabbed a pair of jean shorts and a large t-shirt, and my chuck taylors. i took a glance at myself in the mirror and sighed, mentally scolding myself for the shit I've let happen over the last 5 years, like i did every morning. i'm so stupid. so vulnerable.

whatever.

i shut off my light and closed my bedroom door, then went downstairs. i grabbed my house keys off the hook next to the door, and then closed and locked it behind me. i felt uneasy the whole walk to Emma's house, constantly checking over my shoulder. eventually i got to Emma's and her mom let me in, and i was thanking god that Emma only lived about two blocks away.

me and Emma spent the day together. we went to the convenience store and got slushies, and then to the park where we met Jonathan and hung out with him for a bit. once the day few by, and the streetlights started coming on, we all agreed that we should go home before it got darker. as soon as i was walking home and i wasn't with Jonathan and Emma, dread crept over my body. it was dark, i was alone, and i had no clue whether or not henry and his gang were out on one of their little 'patrols.' i feel like it took an eternity to get home, but i finally did, and as soon as i unlocked the door and stepped inside, I locked the door and went to the kitchen. I reheated a slice of leftover pizza and leaned against the counter while i ate it. it was dark in the house, with the kitchen counter lights being the only thing lighting up the room i was in. after i was done eating, i turned to the sink and scrubbed a few plates that were sitting in the sink. when i was done, i clicked off the kitchen lights and walked back to my bedroom. halfway down the hallway, i heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor. inside my bedroom. immediately my heart dropped to my stomach, and i became silent. slowly i backed up, sliding my socks along the carpet, never lifting my feet, not making any noise. i slipped back into the kitchen and frantically looked around, somehow forgetting where anything was in my house. i grabbed a bread knife from the first drawer and spun back around, quietly pacing back and forth, trying to get my head on straight.

okay.. theres someone in your room. you dont know who.. but you know that they could be dangerous. shit. okay.

i inched back down the hallway, not breathing. i slowly grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. my room was still. there was nobody there. yet my clothes were scattered all over the floor, my bookshelf was missing three of my favorites, my window was wide open, and there was dried mud on my floor. my jaw dropped in shock and i uttered out a small squeak. i stood there in disbelief as i walked into the room further and closed the door behind me. i flicked on my lights and dropped the knife on my bed. after i stuck my head out of my window and saw nobody, i quickly closed and latched my window, pushing my curtains closed. as my fingertips dragged over the windowsill, my nails caught on a notch in the wood. my brow furrowed as i looked closer and traced the lines. there were two letters engraved in my windowsill. initials.

P. H.

that son of a bitch patrick. terrorizing me at school was one terrible thing, but breaking into my house, my room, destroying my belongings, stealing my stuff and carving his fucking name into my windowsill. carving his name into my life. im fucking done dealing with this.

i threw on a sweater and my working boots, grabbed the kitchen knife again and stormed out of my house. i didn't bother to lock the door. i didn't care if id be back or not. i was going to kill this freak.

author note.

HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED BUT IM WORKING ON THE NEXT PART I PROMISE THERE WILL BE SOME ROMANCE BECAUSE IK YOU ASKED FOR THAT!! I LOVE YALL SM