Sucker-punched.

Ok, so this is just something I'm doing off the top of my head. No planning beforehand, only when I'm actually writing aka the complete opposite to my usual writing style.

This should be interesting... Here goes.

I hurt all over.

I had been like this all week. Random bruises popping up all over, along with the ones that were explainable, but caused by unexplainable accidents. And I use 'accidents' in the loosest possible term here. 'Accidents' like suddenly finding yourself spinning head over heels and crashing down to the ground like someone had swept your feet out from under you and up above your head. But there's no one around to have done it. The park is empty. 

And at this point most people would start to question reality, or their sanity, or something. I hit all three. Though the 'something' option opened out into a much bigger train of thought, so I'd say I'd hit sixty more than I'd hit three. If that makes sense - right now, I've got a headache so big I'm finding it hard to think beyond 'coffee', 

I slouched down further into the sofa, watching TV with a bored expression. My Mum had taken me out of school for a few days, She was worried that I was being bullied, or worse that I was somehow doing this to myself. But we had finally got to the point of needing groceries so badly that she had gone out and left me alone. After packing all possible sharp objects in the house into her handbag so I wasn't 'tempted', or whatever. She's paranoid. Even more so if anyone finds them in her bag, especially a cop or someone. That might cheer me up a bit. 

I turned off the TV and slowly walked into the kitchen, dragging my feet as I did so. Just as I started pouring some OJ into a glass, the doorbell rang. I checked the clock - 9.30pm. A bit late for casual callers, if you ask me. 

The guy through the peep hole didn't look to threatening. He looked about mid-to-late-teens, maybe 18? 19? Or 17, the same as me. Either way, this certainly wasn't a late caller that made you want to bar your windows and call the Police.

"James?" he asked as I opened the door for him.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. I'm the new Hermes." He smiled, his teeth showing, and punched me in the face. 

The End

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