Down

Down

A Story by Legion
"

Something new. Rough draft maybe.

"
Down

He never would let me put him down. Since my grandson was born, anytime I was around him (which was often), he would cry for me to hold him or, as he grew older, would come running up to me with his little arms outstretched begging for me to pick him up. I always felt obliged to do so. Even as he became too heavy for me to lift through age, he still always wanted a huge hug. He was my "little buddy" and I was the only real male figure in his life since his dad had little to do with him.
He was born with one leg shorter than the other and had a cleft palate which was corrected by surgery later but gave him a lisp when he spoke. He also tended to run on the small size compared to other children his age that were usually larger, stronger and faster. These things irritated his father for whatever reasons so he avoided the boy like the plague. I didn't have much use for the man myself so my grandson and I spent lots of time together bonding over things he would show interest in and the things I would teach him as a father or grandfather might.
I also helped him as much as I could when he would have problems such as his relationship with his dad, school or other situations that seemed to overwhelm him. I would explain to him how some people couldn't handle anything outside their concept of normal and they would tend to act in negative ways toward those things. This applied to his dad and to those at school he spoke of that would bully him both mentally and physically on a daily basis. His mother, or myself, would talk often with the school principal and counsellors about this and they would do their best to help out but in the end you can't protect a child all the time no matter how hard you or everyone else may try.
As he grew older much of the bullying continued in some form or another and my heart grew sadder for him every day and every year. It seemed to eat at his soul and slowly changed him from my happy "little buddy" I would spend hours daily with talking or playing whatever he wanted as a young boy to a dark and solemn teen-ager. I did what I could and always had open arms and an ear for him to talk to but sometimes even that isn't enough.
It was to my surprise one autumn afternoon when he was supposed to be in school that he came bursting through the backdoor of my house screaming and crying and calling for me. I was in the bedroom and ran for the kitchen, where he was, to find out what was the matter. I was shocked senseless for a moment as I rounded the corner and saw him standing in the middle of the room with blood on his clothes and waving a hand gun around while crying hysterically.
I gained my composure and slowly walked over to him. I gently took the gun from him and laid it on the counter top beside where we were standing. I grabbed him, pulled him tightly to me and held him while he continued to wail hysterically and told him to take several deep breaths.
He did so and slowly began to calm down enough for me to ask him what had happened while still holding him.
He said, through the occasional sobs, that he couldn't take it anymore. All the bullying. All the name calling. The mental quips and the physical jabs had become too much and he had just snapped. He had decided that he would take one of his dad's handguns, which were easily accessible, to school that day and if anyone began messing with him he would finally put an end to it. He would finally show them he meant business.
It happened and he did.
He said he had shot three classmates that had started harassing him in the hallway. Everyone panicked and started running and screaming. He ran out the side doors of the school as fast as he could, even with one leg being shorter than the other, and covered the three blocks to my house because he didn't know what else to do or where else to go.
I was shocked at this revelation but not as shocked as what he said next.
He began crying heavily again and in between sobs he told me he didn't want to live anymore. He didn't like much in this world and most of it had been bad for him except for me and his mom. He knew that they would probably take him away now and he wouldn't get to see us much anymore. He couldn't live like that. His sobbing grew even stronger now. I still held him against me and could feel his tears soaking into the shoulder of my shirt. I knew what he was asking. I knew but didn't want to know. I understood that his life would not be worth living now, even though it hadn't been the greatest before, no matter how hard I tried to help.
My hand slid toward the gun on the counter top. My fingers wrapped around its handle. I lifted its enormous weight and slowly moved it towards the side of his head. Tears were streaming out of my eyes now. As the barrel of the firearm touched his temple, I leaned back my head and looked directly into his watery eyes.
My last words to him were "I love you buddy".
My finger pulled the trigger. My scream overpowered the gun shot and then his lifeless body slumped forward into my arms again. We slowly slid down onto the floor, he still in my arms, when I, with great agony, realized he finally let me put him down.


Legion
5July15

© 2015 Legion



My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Featured Review

Wow...much food for thought.I think everyone has their breaking and your story illustrates one way it can happen. Since my neck was fractured and is so fragile, I have told several family members that I don't want to live if I become paralyzed from the neck down. I told them if that were to happen SOMEBODY better help me OUT as in not here anymore. And I am very serious. But unlike the father figure in your story I don't think anyone would do that for me.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I really think the most powerful about this story is the characterization of a school shooter as a real person. With people who love and care for them, rather than the monsters media portrays them to be. Admittedly, the monster is less frightening.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Shannon

1 Year Ago

And the monsters are just like us...
I am sure focus a lot on the "Of mice and men" style end.. read more
Legion

1 Year Ago

Considering I have not read the book, no.
Shannon

1 Year Ago

Sorry to draw conclusions that are not there. I would recommend Of Mice and Men (and I tend not to .. read more
Wow...much food for thought.I think everyone has their breaking and your story illustrates one way it can happen. Since my neck was fractured and is so fragile, I have told several family members that I don't want to live if I become paralyzed from the neck down. I told them if that were to happen SOMEBODY better help me OUT as in not here anymore. And I am very serious. But unlike the father figure in your story I don't think anyone would do that for me.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Good plot, kinda slow at the beginning though.
You're an amazing writter, go places with that!
Who is this main character? Step father? Grand father? God father? Family friend?
what happens next?
who would actually kill the kid? WTF?

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

good to see you here and posting, and what a timely write

so many hurting in this world

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

430 Views
4 Reviews
Rating
Added on July 6, 2015
Last Updated on July 6, 2015

Author

Legion
Legion

Nowhere near a BBQ pit!



About
I write about various topics. Mostly I write poetry/songs. I took my screen name from a concept album/epic poem I wrote years ago titled "Legion's Legacy: Tales of the Damned" which was inspired by .. more..

Writing