Page 1 of Use Me
Fourteen Years Old
High school sucks.
Actually, being a freshman sucks. My parents had always told me that high school would be the best years of my life, but I didn’t know when it would turn into the best years of my life because right now, I hated it.
I stood at my locker, getting my books for fifth period, when I sawhim.He was walking through the double doors at the end of the hall, and he wasn’t alone. He was never alone. I didn’t know why people wanted to be his friend. Maybe it was because everyone feared him.
I did.
The jerk was a senior, and all he did was terrorize freshmen. We played varsity hockey together, and in practice he could (and would) get away with slamming me against the boards all he wanted. He’d talk shit every day at practice too. It didn’t matter who we were or if we’d never done anything to him. He got pleasure from being an asshole to everyone, and I seemed to get the brunt of it, especially after Coach made me starter last game and not him.
I was tired of being pushed around, spit on, tripped. So, every day after practice, I used my dad’s weights in the garage hoping I could bulk up and kickhisass. All I wanted was for him to leave me alone so I could laugh with my friends in the halls and on campus. Be a normal high school student. I didn’t want to have to run in fear because some jackass thought using me as a punching bag was an extracurricular activity.
And sadly, we still had months until he graduated.
I stuffed my books into my backpack that I needed for the rest of the school day and for homework, hoping to make my escape beforehesaw me. Just as I exited the doors on the opposite side of the hall, I heardhim.
“Hey, faggot!”
I didn’t stop.
“Cole!” he shouted behind me. “Aww, the baby is running home to his mommy.”
The group of boys he was with laughed behind me, but I didn’t turn around or stop. Maybe if he thought I didn’t hear him, he’d leave me alone.
I heard footsteps running in the snow, and before I realized it, my backpack crashed to the ground. I spun around to pick it up, trying not to look at him, but anger got the best of me. I glared. At that moment, I was finally going to stand up to the asshole. I didn’t care if he and his friends kicked my ass. I was done. But before I could utter a word, I stopped.
He was holding a knife.
I looked down at my backpack on the ground and noticed the straps had been cut.That was how the bag fell off my shoulders.As I started to stand, he pushed me and I fell on the ground. The snow I was sitting on started to soak through my jeans.
He kicked snow at my face. “You think you’re some big, badass hockey player that can come to my school and take my position, faggot? You ain’t shit. You better hope I don’t see you off campus because you won’t be able to walk once I’m done kicking your ass. Watch your back. I’m getting my start back one way or another.” He kicked snow at me one final time before he and his minions walked away.
The laughing continued as the group of boys walked through the door I had tried to escape through. I couldn’t wait to get home. I was going to lift double the amount of weights so I could bulk up faster. He’d regret bullying me one day.
One day when I kicked his fucking ass.
Present Day
“I’m Ashtyn Valor. Thank you for watching. Have a good night, Chicago.”
I gave a slight nod as I smiled warmly and drew a heart on the paper next to me as though I had something important to write while I waited for the signal that we were no longer broadcasting.
“And we’re clear.” People started to move as the live broadcast ended.
My news studio was a little different from your standard local news station. Typically, newsrooms had the same anchors report the five, six and ten o’clock news, but we only had a five o’clock and a ten o’clock broadcast, and each time slot had a different anchor.
After I received my master’s degree in journalism, I’d worked my way up until I was the one who reported the news each night. Ideally, I wanted to report the evening news and have the five o’clock slot, but for the last two years I’d worked the nightly news at ten. It gave me enough time to get housework and errands done before I had to report in at four in the afternoons, and it also worked well with my boyfriend’s schedule. Corey was an Air Traffic Controller at O’Hare and worked the night shift, though I worked Monday through Friday and his schedule changed all the time. It didn’t matter. We made it work.
“See you tomorrow,” I said to Mitch, my fellow co-anchor, as I removed my mic.
“Have a good night,” Mitch replied. I stood and started to leave the room.
“Your weekly flowers arrived.” Abby, the closest friend I had at the station, grinned as we passed each other. We were the complete opposite in the looks department but had the same personality. I had blonde hair, she was a brunette. I had green eyes, she had brown. I was also four inches taller than she was.
“If only they were from my actual boyfriend,” I muttered and continued to walk toward my desk. I’d been getting these flowers from a secret admirer for at least a year now. I loved getting them because it brightened up my workspace. I just wished they were from my boyfriend of ten months.
The red roses came into view as I got closer to my desk. Each time they had a note with them from a secret admirer. The first one had read:
