Nighty Night

Mark didn’t say a word as he was practically thrown across the alleyway beside his school building. The six boys surrounded him as he lay there trying his best not to move and ignite the bruises all over his body. He flinched as six feet descended on him. He heard a crack and realised the rib they had fractured the day before had just snapped. His vision turned red as he screamed.

He’d been back for three weeks. Despite nearly dying he’d only had two weeks off and no one even asked where he’d been. The bullies picked up where they left off, apparently they thought he’d left and were angered when he reappeared. They had gone form the usual insults to daily beatings which were getting more aggressive each day.

Paul Pullman had tried three times before Mark had given him answers and from them and from traces of his cheap trainers found everywhere on the roof but the edge were the twins had fallen. Mark still felt very guilty about this.

He was still in the hospital while his mothers lawyers and social services argued once again over custody.

The leader of the boys stepped forward and lifted his foot. Mark had never screamed before, never shown weakness. Mark closed his eyes a second before the shoe connected with his face. Mark groaned as his nose literally splattered across his face. The boys laughed and walked off. Mark lay there out of it. His vision was dimmed and he was fighting against unconsciousness and fighting to regain control of his power which had burst free when his rib broke. Nothing visibly happened but Mark hated the evil thing flowing through him and yet loved it as well. The very thought of loving it made him hate it all the more.

He heard a gasp and sudden running feet. He didn’t know how long he had lain there. He managed to open his eyes and saw Mr Smith crouching above him. He used his face to pull himself mentally awake and groaned as he felt the pain fill him. Luckily the pain helped him wake up.

Mr smith seemed to be working hard to control himself, his jaw clenched and he visibly shook. Finally he controlled himself and muttered “Mark, are you alright?”

Again, Mark used his voice as a pull and managed to jump to his feet, gritting his teeth and fighting back tears. He gasped as his broken rib protested and sent a pain beyond anything he’d ever felt through his side. He leaned against the wall. “I’m fine Sir, just fell over” Mark knew if he told anyone he’d get it even worse.

“Mark don’t give me that! You cant even stand up! Come on, inside to the nurse NOW!!!” He grabbed Mark under the arm and supported him around the building. The nurses office was two doors down the corridor. She was eating her lunch but after opening the door to Mr Smith she threw it aside and helped him bring Mark over to the bed.

“What happened?” She demanded of Mr Smith who only shook his head in head in reply.

She grabbed a clean cloth and started dabbing at Marks face, all the while crooning things like “Poor Baby”. She visibly winced as Marks face was revealed, covered already in cuts, bruising and his nose now squished crooked. She made him bight down on a rubber bit as she yanked his nose back out. He screamed into it as the pain washed over him. Mr Smith seemed to wish he wasn’t there and was shuffling nervously by the door. However, when the nurse had unbuttoned his shirt Mr Smith swore and jumped forward.

Even Mark had to admit his chest looked a mess. The normally pale skin was completely black. His stomach turned yellow on the sides and his back was criss crossed with black, purple and yellow as more bruises set. The nurse seemed flabbergasted and muttered something about an ambulance and the police. Mark jumped forward “No!” he practically sobbed. “I’m fine ok? All I did was trip over!”

Mr Smith made a chocking noise and the nurse didn’t seem to know what to do. Mr Smith still sounded angry as he said “Mark! You did not! Now, wash your face and then we will go and see the headmaster, then we will get you to a hospital! Understood.”

Mark nodded glumly. He washed his face and neck, being careful not to bend too much towards his rib. He rebut toned his shirt and tie and the nurse, Mr Smith and Mark headed down the hall to the head’s office. The head let them in after only one mildly questioning look. Mark didn’t really listen as he heard Mr Smith explaining why they were there. Mr Smith pulled him up and briefly showed the head his stomach and back. The head went visibly white as they explained further. His name was Mr Chantey and he was only three weeks from retirement and quite a spooky, mysterious head teacher. Mark could practically hear him sighing ‘just three more weeks’

Mark had gotten better at holding in the weird extension of his body, it took less time for him to recover as well. He let go of his hold for a few seconds but the moment he did Mr Chantey snapped straight up going an even paler white. His eyes locked on Marks and he seemed to be staring into somewhere deeper than Marks eyes. Mark pulled back in and the head shifted nervously, returning to normal. Mark doubted the other two staff had noticed anything.

The head started questioning him; Asking him who did it, Why they did it and how long it had been going on. He still seemed shaken but Mark had the idea he was putting off his worries until later. Marks answers were always the same, “I over” Finally they gave in and with a “This is not the last of this” the conversation moved to Mr Smith driving Mark to the hospital. Mark was resigned to tell them and tentatively spoke up “Um, I already have a room at the local hospital. I’ve been staying there for the last 5 weeks.” They asked why and Mark told them in as few words as possible. Finally Mr Smith agreed to drive Mark to the hospital and get him seen to by one of the nurses in the long stay ward he was in.

When they got there Nurse Roberts rushed over, Mr Smith explained and she rushed him to his room. When she saw his chest she flushed angrily. She gave Mark an injection which made him sleepy and he lay on his uncomfortable hospital bed. She went out with Mr Smith and he could hear their conversation in low voices. His mothers lawyers had used some legislation saying unless the school asked the hospital couldn’t inform them of where Mark was staying.

Mr Smith came and said good bye before leaving. Nurse Roberts, now a friend of Marks, came in and stroked his hair in a motherly way. “Oh Mark… What are we going to do with you?”

Mr Chantey had been thinking for a long time, researching. He made sure all of the sensations he had felt matched exactly. Eventually he was entirely convinced of what he’d found and rang the number he’d been given so long ago he’d almost forgotten.

A man answered and he quickly explained. “Your sure?” The man asked.

“Absolutely” Mr Chantey replied.

They spoke for a while about what could be done before agreeing on a solution. The man hung up without a goodbye.

Mr Chantey sat back, dabbing with a tissue at his damp forehead. It was for the best, Mark needed help and they were the ones but it was the whole thing that freaked him out. The thought of what Mark could do if he wanted was frightening.

Mr Smith was on his way home when it happened. He lived not far from the school and headed down the road. He’d stayed late marking books and hadn’t been able to concentrate. He was still fuming about Mark Edwards.

It was very dark and he could barely see where he was standing despite the three street lights. Mr Smith heard a noise and all three of the lights flickered and died. A sudden burst of light made him aware he’d hit his head. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Mr Smith woke to find himself asleep in his bed. Light filtered through a gap in the curtains. Mr Smith had had a very strange dream, he wondered if it was possible. He’d have a look on the internet later today. With a sigh he got up to get ready. He didn’t remember a thing.

The End

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