ch 17

                                    

                                          
There Clay sat, drowning himself in alcohol and isolation for the next half an hour. George and the others had returned from the shore a while ago, none of them even glancing in Clay's direction. 
                          
Meanwhile, Clay couldn't take his eyes off George. 
                          
George. 
                          
Who looked happier than he did on the shore, but when a heart is broken, the damage can still be seen by the person who possesses it in it's entirety.
                          
An annoying sound rang in Clay's ears. He feasted his eyes upon Schlatt who was dancing with a girl from school named Michelle.
                          
Clay stood from his position and walked toward them. 
                          
 He stood in front of them and the girl stopped, mid-grinding, and stared up at Clay confusingly. 
                          
"Why'd you stop Minx?" Schlatt asked before he noticed Clay's pathetic face. "Oh. You. What do you want?"  
                          
"I want you to hurt me." Clay said. 
                          
His monotone voice pierced the ears of everyone around him, who were now mildly concerned and confused.
                          
"You what?" Schlatt and Michelle looked at each other, blankly, then back at Clay. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like you got hit by a bus?" 
                          
"Schlatt. Please. Beat the shit out of me." Clay begged with desperation in his voice. 
                          
Schlatt stared, questionably. For a minute, he was deep in thought and some could say an ounce of remorse plastered on his face in the midst of his thought process. Of course, it was only for a split second, and you'd have to be looking through a microscope to catch a clear glimpse of it.
                          
"Minx, run along." He excused her. She wondered off. "So let me get this straight, you're giving me permission to beat the shit out of you?" 
                          
"I'm not giving you my permission. I'm begging you." 
                          
"Hmm." Schlatt thought to himself. "No." He said before he turned to walk away. Clay grabbed his shoulders, tears in his eyes. Schlatt looked at him. "What is wrong with you?" 
                          
"Do it, Schlatt." 
                          
"No. It's not as rewarding when the person enjoys it. Is this some kink?" 
                          
"No. I need to feel pain. I need to get beaten up. Please Schlatt." The look in his face was genuine. Schlatt scanned the poor boy's face. He would never admit this to a single soul, but he in fact felt bad for Clay. 
                          
"Ah, what the hell?" He hid his repentance with dry humor. Schlatt placed his drink down on the sand. He punched Clay in the face once, sending pain throughout his body. "Is that good, you little freak?" 
                          
"Again." Clay demanded. 
                          
"This is fuckin weird." Schlatt said, but he didn't hesitate to punch Clay again, and again, and again. Until Clay was on the floor, lying motionless, taking the punches. 
                          
I deserve this. 
                          
I deserve to hurt. 
                          
Schlatt hopped on the chance to give Clay a proper beating down, no longer any trace of remorse in his actions.
                          
Clay's eyes were pressed shut, as his head was being smashed into the sand, and Schlatt was kicking his stomach. 
                          
Momentarily, he opened them to the most disturbing image he had ever seen. 
                          
George and Minx. Kissing. 
                          
Schlatt's punches hurt, but this was a different type of pain Clay had never felt before.