Free Damaged by Troy McCombs

Satan's other demons liked to kill people as well—"
    One boy, a few seats over from Adam, covered his mouth, laughing.
    "Oh my God!" some girl gasped.
    The teacher continued, "These entities’ only fear was crucifixes and churches. They were more afraid of these than anything else. These two things were the only things that could stop them, too.
    “ But Syraqt, the head of the evil army, would not succumb to defeat. He was sworn by his father, the devil, to end the world and teach God a lesson—" She stopped reading and flipped through the pages, shaking her head.
    "Who wrote it?" the girl again asked, this time raising a hand.
    The tension skyrocketed within Adam. He could not stop shifting in his seat or playing with his pencil or looking down.
    Do not say it!
    "The whole story was written by Adam McNicols." Not only did she say it; she pointed at him, leaving no doubt to anyone.
    Adam would not look up from his desk. All I ever wanted was to be the next Stephen King.
    "Oh my God, that's soooo sacrilegious!" another girl said.
    "Crazy, not right in the head."
    "That was complete crap," a boy snickered.
    The teacher stared down this little devil in the scruffy black clothes. She feared him and disliked his wretched soul for writing such a horrible little story. Mrs. Steiner was just another Southern Baptist, the most close-minded kind of Christ-lover in existence. She would not tolerate anything pro-Satan or simply weird, and Halloween was her least favorite time of year. Back in ’73, she even wrote a nasty letter to Warner Brothers, protesting against the release of the film The Exorcist.
    Fucking bitch , Adam thought.
    Before anymore ridicule could be placed on Adam's trembling frame, he stood and darted out of the room, humiliated for the hundredth time. He went straight to the bathroom to recover yet again, and refused to leave until the bell rang again. Mrs. Steiner was not concerned. She did not really want him in her classroom anymore today, anyway.
    ***
    Second and third period class came and went soon enough. Adam walked to lunch, his face throbbing red. Once there, he sat at same table by the window with his friend Josh.
    One of the kids across the aisle from them, a boy from Adam's English class, stopped eating a slice of pizza long enough to show Adam the sign of the cross with his fingers.
    "What's his problem?" Josh asked Adam.
    Adam dove into his bag like a pre-programmed robot and removed a Hershy bar. "He's a—“ For fear of the boy overhearing him, Adam did not finish saying: Motherfucking son of a bitch.
    "—never mind. It's not important. Nothing's important anymore."
    "What do you mean?" Josh asked, sipping on a can of 7up.
    “ What do you mean what do I mean? Everybody in this place just—pisses me off," he whispered.
    Josh did not hear him. "What's that?”
    Adam shook his head and ate his candy bar.
    So many things to say, too many feelings I can't control, and no courage to tell anyone.
    In time, that would change.
    ***
    Lunch passed. Homeroom class returned. Adam sat in his seat, resting restlessly on his unbalanced school books before the bell rang. The room was filled with monsters on all sides: geeky creatures from the far side of technology, jock-type mongrels who looked like the poster children for army commercials, dirt-ball trailer trash inbreds with no sense of bathing, and beady, cat-like preps who could win over the most stubborn of teachers.
    Erica—Adam did not want to classify her as anything other than gorgeous, but he knew that her beauty was only skin deep.
    Today she was crying, hurt once again by that loser boyfriend of hers. Her group of friends comforted her.
    Adam sat up, grabbed his ink pen, and began drawing on his book cover.
    "He—he loves me. Deep down inside I know he does," Erica said.
    "Guys can just be asses that way," one of her friends told her. Not me. I'd treat you like gold.
    The drawing of a demented-looking creature on brown paper began to take