Dirty Me/Flip him off

From Create Your Own Story

As you stand back up, you look at him, flipping him off.

"Fucking cunt!" He yells, startling the class, as he stands up, as if he is about to hit you.

A collective Oooooo goes through the class, and the teacher finally decides to pay attention.

Face red, the teacher marches over to him.

"Get out of my class and report to the principles office," he says, almost as if he is trying, with only slight success, to keep from yelling at the bully. When the bully doesn't move, the teacher shouts, "NOW!" Half the class jumps, startled by this.

After the bully leaves, he looks at you, standing there, smiling. "Sit down now, or else you will be next." The teacher almost seems ready to hit something, or someone.

Panicked, you rush to your desk and sit down. A couple people, the ones who are nicer to you, who don't always use you as their own personal joke, nod to you, but most pointedly ignore you or glare at you. Sighing, you realize this will be a long day, and won't make life much easier.

You hear whispers the rest of the day, and see the bully once. He scowls at you, then walks off.

One of your very few friends walks up to you.

"I heard you really pissed him off," she says to you.

"He tripped me!" You respond defensively.

"I never said he didn't deserve it, but you better be careful. I heard a few whispers that he was saying things like 'That fucking bitch is going to wish she had never been born'." She looks at you with sad eyes, and you wonder what he would do to you. He may be a bully, but it can't be any worse than what he normally does anyways.

School ends, and you start walking home. You look behind you and find him there, following you. O god, what, is he going to harass me all the way home? You think to yourself.

He does the same stuff as normally, making you wonder if he actually has any brain. Maybe that is why he is a bully, more muscles than brains.

"Hey skank. You should go kill yourself."

"Bet your parents wish you had never been born."

On and on he continues, hurdling insults, occasionally hurdling rocks or other things.

One hits you in the arm, causing you to yelp in pain.

"Ha, I knew you were a fucking dog."

You continue, rubbing your arm, wishing he would just leave you alone.

He follows you all the way home, continuing to insult, to throw things at you. You can feel the sticks in your hair. Once, he even attempted to take your bag, laughing at you on the ground, clinging to it.

Finally, you see home. Going inside, you close the door. Outside, you can still hear him, calling you names, saying awful things about you, untrue things about you.

You remember your dads gun, in his dresser upstairs. You wonder if you could scare him away, get him to leave you alone.

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