3. Chapter 3 (1/2)

mr hitler's voice droned through the classroom like a dying slug, which was quite relevant to him as the man was probably near to ninety and took about fifteen minutes to get to class on a regular basis. damien sat half dead and a

ain cell had a stroke with every second that passed. he hated german class. it seemed to last forever and despite people passing notes, texting, doodling and just sitting there talking, no one enjoyed what might as well have been a free class.

"repeat after me; ihre haben einen riechenden furz."

"ihre haben einen riechenden furz," the class echoed, like zombies chanting meaningless prayer in a church.

damien held his face up with the palm of his fist, pouting, 'i bet pip's french class is more exciting than this and i hate the french.'

he began thinking about the cute little blonde and the nasty mark upon his head, 'why the fuck would he let people get away with something like that? adorable little idiot.'

he thought about pip's innocent and forgiving look that made his eyes shine. he shook his head, 'i just want to know-'

"who hit pip?"

damien turned immediately to see kenny mccormick, sitting next to eric cartman.

"clyde."

"clyde donovan?"

"do you know any other clyde?"

"not one who's learned to put down the sling shot and pick up the gun."

"that's what i said."

damien's eyes burned with rage, 'donovan.'

"ihre scheie ver

ennt ein loch in meinem furtfest."

damien came back to earth from his hellish anger and the class repeated like pavlov's dogs. no one knew exactly what they were repeating anyway. the bell rang for

eak-time and damien threw everything into his bag furiously, storming out of the room before mr hitler could even stop him to give the class their homework.

he tossed his bag beside his locker as he passed it, not even looking or paying attention as to where it landed. it made a loud bang as it smacked against the metal lockers and everyone stared, nervous and confused. he stopped when he came to the bathroom closest to clyde's spanish room and went inside. butters scotch looked up at him from the urinal stand, zipped his trousers up urgently and sped out past damien.

damien waited.

suddenly, he saw clyde's

own hair from the other side of the translucent window and heard his disgustingly nasal voice. he rammed the door open in an instant, grabbing clyde by the collar and yanking him violently into the bathroom. clyde yelped out as he stumbled in and damien locked the door behind him.

clyde straightened himself up and stood in fear, too afraid to ask damien what his problem was. damien stalked over to him, backing clyde up against the wall. he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, their faces almost touching.

"are you fucking proud of yourself?" damien yelled at him, his sharp fangs showing.

"n-n-n-"

"talk properly, you fucking stuttering bitch!"

clyde said nothing, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop in his current position. damien calmed down, satisfied with the display before him of clyde twitching in fear.

"not so tough now, are we?"

clyde shook his head, holding back a quiet whimper.

"you thought you were pretty tough when you threw that rock at innocent little pip," he stated.

clyde shook his head again, disagreeing.

"good. then you aren't a complete idiot, because it didn't make you tough. when you want to hurt someone, you shouldn't have to rely on a weapon. you do it yourself."

there was a deadly pause.

"like this!"

damien plunged his other fist sharply into clyde's gut, who cried out in agony, covering his stomach with his arms and sliding down to his knees.

damien grinned, "it isn't nice, is it?"

clyde shook his head vigorously, tears forming in his tightly shut eyes.

damien pounded him in between his legs with a fierce kick, "answer me!" he shouted.

clyde almost screamed, "no! it's not nice! jesus christ i'm sorry!"

"apologising to that bastard won't get you anywhere."

"i'm sorry damien!"

"good," he replied coolly, "now take your punishment like the man that you aren't."

damien swung another heavy boot into his gut, causing clyde to fall over onto his side, curled up defensively in a ball. damien proceeded kicking him in the back and in the ribs, bending over slightly to punch at his head and his face and grab him by the shoulders to shake him, bashing him against the cold floor.

with each thud followed a scream of pain, over and over, which could be heard all throughout the hallway.

thump.

"ah!"

thump.

"aah!"

the

utal beating rendered clyde helpless. it went on for several minutes. clyde almost felt numb, but not numb enough. it seemed as though no one had heard, or no one had cared for, his pleas for help. he felt vulnerable, not to mention sore.

he felt like pip.

the bell rang so loud in the bathroom that clyde could no longer hear his own cries. suddenly, the beatings came to a stop, yet he still found himself striving in pain.

damien stood, "you're lucky."

clyde opened one eye and looked up at the demon towering over him, still with clenched fists.

"i could have set you alight. burned you, killed you. or let you live mutated, like the freak that you are," he paused, making sure clyde was paying attention.

"that was just a warning."

clyde trembled at each word damien spoke. he really was lucky.

"now stay the fuck away from me."

he moved closer, "and don't you ever touch what's mine again."

he smirked cheekily, "i don't like to share, clyde, and i especially don't like my property to be damaged when i get it back."