As he played with the knife for what seemed to be forever nobody even came.. It was probably already 8am already.
After what seemed like an eternity. The nurse Mrs. Rogers finally walked over with a bag, with her stuff in it. She helped him up gently from being slumped against the door, and then she unlocked it. Mrs. Rogers patted a seat next to her desk as she reached for cleaning supplies to clean his scrapes with.
As she was cleaning them she asked, "This is the eighth time this week Cyrus. Are you alright?"
Cyrus rolled his eyes, "so what if I've been here eight times already. What's so wrong about it. "
Mrs. Rogers responded by putting Band-Aids on his scrapes. She leaned closer and put her hand over his forehead, checking his temperature. Cyrus immediately responded to the touch by pushing her hand away and giving her a nasty look.
He said, "Don't touch me." Cyrus hated interacting and talking because he thought it was irrational and stupid but he had to tell her not to touch him. He was easily annoyed by the slightest things.. And he hated physical touch.
Mrs. Rogers responded, trying to ease the tension.. "Oh okay. How's your father doing?" She asked trying to make small talk to calm Cyrus down a little bit.
Cyrus reluctantly said in an annoyed tone, "he's okay I guess... Why does it matter anyways..?" Cyrus still kept that nasty look on his face. Clearly indicating he didn't really wanna talk to her nor even look at her.
He was already annoyed and she was giving him a headache. After Mrs. Rogers, finished she wrote him a note to give to his teacher to excuse the absence. As Cyrus walked back to class annoyed still. The crowded hallway just made his headache worse.
He hated school with all of his heart but this made him hate it even more, which he thought wasn't possible until now. Why did he have to be here? It's not like he got good grades... Nor did he have any friends.