The Perfection Paradox by LaurenVDW

to his feet and tried to push through
the crowd again but Hunter pulled at him even more
aggressively.
    Matt’s anger
burst like a dam in a flood and he let it wash over Hunter, pushing
him back as hard as he could.
    He bowed his
hand into a fist and punched Hunter hard on the side of his
head.
    Although Matt
had put all his strength into it, Hunter barely seemed to flinch.
He came at Matt slowly, his big hazel eyes squinting angrily,
piercing him.
    Matt saw
Hunter’s eyes glance down at the fire pit next to him and his eyes
flashed with malice.
    Matt knew
what Hunter was going to do before he even felt the pressure of
Hunter’s hands against his chest. Before he felt his body lurch
backwards. Before the odd sensation of white-hot flames engulfed
his body.
    Hunter had
sneered victoriously and turned to walk away, turned to leave him,
burning.
    It had been
Ryan who had pulled him out, patting his hoodie and jeans fiercely,
extinguishing the flames that were gorging his clothes and skin,
before letting him drop to the ground. Matt lay still for what felt
like a long time. He flashed in and out of consciousness, in and
out of shock.
    A warm
trickle soaked his face and neck, running down his chest under his
clothes and stinging his burns. Matt forced his eyes open and tried
to focus, tried to make out the bleary shapes around
him.
    Hunter was
stood above him, his fly unzipped and his penis out. Matt realized
what the tepid liquid had been.
    He rolled
over, trying to escape its path. His whole body ached and he could
barely move his arms, but somehow he managed to stumble to his
feet. He didn’t remember how.
    Hunter had
left now, skulking off indoors to fetch a drink now that the
night’s entertainment was done.
    Ryan
approached him but Matt pushed him away mistrustfully and ran back
through the house and out the front door. The skin on his hands and
neck felt tight and hot, it throbbed excruciatingly as he tried to
figure out where exactly he was, how exactly he could get
home.
    He walked for
three hours, taking many wrong turns along the way.
    As he pushed
through his front door his body felt heavy and broken and it took
all his strength to carry himself up the stairs to his room. He
puffed and braced, knocking photo frames on the wall skewwhiff as
he tried to support himself, he could feel his eyes rolling back in
their sockets as he tried to block out the pain.
    That had been
the worst time. He’d had no way to defend himself and no one there
to defend him. He shuddered as he shook himself out of his
daydream, the smell of fire sending shivers down his spine and
causing his hand to shake involuntarily.
    Matt wished
he could say there had been no other times, that outside school
hours he was safe at home or at his friends, that during school
teachers watched and protected him, but even at school the faculty
often turned a blind eye when Hunter had him pinned up against the
wall or pushed him to the ground.
    Hunter was
the sports star of Rosewell. He was a Campbell, a family who had
attended the school for generations and contributed so much. And
who was Matt? No one really. Not someone worth upsetting one of
Rosewell’s most prominent families, that much was
definite.
    He lay in bed
that night, sobbing into his pillow. He didn’t want his mother to
hear. He didn’t want her to worry.
    Lying in the
darkness, he suddenly realized how alone he was. How much of
a freak he
was.
    He wondered
more than anything why everyone else got to have friends, have fun,
enjoy life. He wondered why he wasn’t capable of it, what he was
doing wrong that meant he was so absolutely alone, so absolutely
hated by everyone.
    It was a
horrific feeling, the feeling that if you died no one would care,
that you matter to no one. Most days he could fight these thoughts,
but in this dark lonesome place, with the fresh bruises throbbing
painfully on his face and body, the terrible truths of Matt’s
reality gained momentum and stifled him with