John

Live the days of a bullied school child

"This is it," He thought, "this is where it all ends." He was
shaking uncontrollably now.
"This is where the pain stops." He closed his eyes, squeezed the
trigger, and it was all over.

The day before was like any other spring day, the newly awakened
April air seemed to caress his face as he walked to school. His name
was John, and he enjoyed his morning walk to school. This was his time
to be free...and he loved it. This was time when he could just relax
and take in his surroundings. Then with a sudden roar, the same
familiar truck screeched into view. As the truck drove past a number
of insults were hurled his way, accompanied by a smattering of rocks
which bit at his face and chest. They stung for a moment, but then the
moment was gone and he was lost in his morning walk once more.

"There it is," he muttered to himself, looking at the school
looming in the distance, "my own personal hell."
Every morning was the same, the same stares as he approached, the
same snickers echoing in his head like a reflection bouncing in a
house of mirrors. Every day it built up, and every day was worse. He
was inside the school doors now and the noise of the campus faded out
with a snap as the door clicked back into pleace behind him. He stood
for a moment and gathered himself before making his way down the
winding halls toward the first of six hours of hell.

"Does anyone know why this was called the shot heard round the
world?"
John was sitting with his head down on the desk, hardly giving the
teachers words a second thought as they passed through his ears. There
was no point in learning about history in his mind. He couldn't care
less about what a bunch of dead people did hundreds of years ago. Then
suddenly the bell rang and he got up and shuffled out the door with
the rest of the crowd. Though history was not his favorite time of the
day, it was by no means the worst. Right now John is on his way to
lunch and he dreaded the very thought of it. With every step he took
toward the lunch room, his heart seemed to bounce a little further
into his throat. For John knew that as soon as he walked into the
cafeteria, HE would be there. HE who had created this eternal
damnation he seemed to be living, HE who had managed to take a small
part of john's pride every time they met, HE who had brought him to
the brink of snapping on a near daily basis. It was he who John feared
the most. Even his name, Christian, sent a chill like icy water
through his spine. Christian was the school jock, one of those kids
that managed to get everything they wanted without lifting a finger,
and he took advantage of it every chance he got. John made his way
into the lunch room expecting some sort of an assault to come from
anywhere, but to his surprise, none came. He made it through the lunch
line with nothing more than a glare from one of Christians' crony's.
"Jesus," he thought to himself, "it's like that kids the leader of
a cult."
John quickly started making his way to the empty table in the
corner of the room.
"where is he?" he thought to himself about halfway to the table,
"maybe he skipped lunch today..."
"No," he corrected himself, "christian would never miss a chance
to humiliate-"
And before he could even finish the thought, Christian stepped out
from behind a post and shoved him to the ground, scattering soggy
French fries across the lunch room floor.
"watch where your walking b***h!" Christian blurted out, just
before kicking the lunch tray John was grabbing just out of reach.
"well?" he blurted out again, "are you going to pick that s**t up?"
Reluctantly John got to his feet, walked over to the now tattered
lunch tray, and bent over to pick it up, fully expecting the heel of
christians' shoe which knocked him back onto the ground. Christian let
out a laugh that burned like fire in john's chest.
"haha. I'm glad you've managed to find where you belong, on the
ground at my feet.
"that was it," John thought as Christian walked away. "I can't
take this anymore'"
The thing that bothered him the most was that this had become such
an annual thing that no one even bothered looking up to laugh. They
just went on with their conversations as though john's crashing to the
floor was no more a distraction than the low pitched drone being
excreted by the air conditioning unit placed in the ceiling just above
their heads. Slowly John returned to his feet, gathered his mow ruined
lunch from the scum covered floor, and silently made his way to the
empty table in the corner.

After lunch was the only period in time during his day at school
that he enjoyed. You see, every day John took the same inconvenient
route to class, just for one moment of happiness. He was about halfway
to class when he saw her making her way down the hall, the very sight
of her sent butterflies coursing through his stomach. John looked at
the blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders in amazement as she
brushed the bangs out of her perfect blue eyes, when all of the sudden
he felt a pair of hands pushing him and sending him crashing into the
wall causing his books to fall to the floor.
"you wish." came the familiar voice from behind him.
"your such a jerk Christian!" Kristine said, she was the only one
that ever stuck up for him, "why can't you just leave him alone?"
Christian didn't even stop to defend himself.
"here, let me help you with that." she said, helping him pick up
his books and shooting him a smile that seemed to melt his insides
like butter.
"uhh...thanks." was all he could manage to blurt out.
"don't worry about Christian, he's a real pric."
"ya." he said, all the while thinking to himself.
" soon enough, I won't have to worry about him at all."
The rest of the day went by with no more an event than waking
suddenly in math class to the cracking noise of the teacher's ruler on
his desk. And soon enough, he was on his way home.

John was greeted home by the familiar smell of cheap liquor and
the barking voice of his alchoholic father.
"well look who's home," his father barely managed to slur, "if it
were up to me I'd keep your worthless a*s there all day!"
Ignoring his fathers words, John made his way to his room where he
shut the door, fell onto his bed, and broke down into the tears that
stuck with him until he drifted off to sleep.

When John awoke, it was still dark outside, and the moon was still
high on the horizon. Rolling over in bed, John looked at the clock.
3:47 in the morning.
"that's what I get for falling asleep at 3 in the afternoon." he
mumbled to himself.
Slowly he rolled out of bed, and silently went over his plan in
his head. Finally, without a sound, he made his way to the basement
where his father's workbench was, opened a drawer in the toolbox and
pulled out the gun his father had always kept there.
"in case the commies come." he had always said.
"drunk old b*****d." John thought, quietly chuckling to himself.
Slipping the gun into his wasteband, he turned around, and walked back
up to his room where he sat on his bed and quietly andticipated the
next few hours of the day.

Several hours later, John was trotting down the sidewalk on his
way to school. Without surprise, John once again heard the engine of
the truck approaching. Today was different though, the cold metal
the gun pressing against his stomach seemed to give him a new sense of
strength. The truck just didn't seem to instill the same fear it once
had. John smiled to himself as the truck drove by, ignoring the words
being shouted at him.
"yes," he thought to himself, "today is much different."

Sitting in history class, John was staring at the clock as though
it would explode if he tore his eyes away from it.
"ten minutes." that's all that went through his mind all day.
"five more minutes."
"three minutes."
"one minute."
Then finally, the bell rang for class to get out and he walked out
of the doors towards the lunch room. Making his way down the hall, he
felt as though it was the longest walk he had ever taken. The normally
minute and a half walk seemed to last a life time. Finally, John made
it into the lunch room, but instead of going to the lunch line, he
drifted off toward where Christian sat.
"there he is." John thought. "it's time."
Christian looked up as John approached and gave him a glare that
didn't seem to phase him.
"what are you doing here f*g?" Christian said, standing up to meet
him.
"ending this." John said back. Then without a pause John pulled
the gun out from under his shirt and pointed it straight at Christians
chest.
"holy s**t!" Christian let out as he fell to the ground in fear.
"that's all it took," John thought to himself, "fear."
The same fear Christian had bestowed upon John for so many years
was trembling behind his own frightened eyes.
"you've put me through hell my entire life." John started, "and
for what? Because I'm different? Well not anymore."
He paused for a moment to hear what Christian had to say
"I'm so sorry, please don't shoot me." Christian begged, now on
the verge of tears.
"Ha, shoot you? I would never kill you. I want you to live through
the same hell you put me through. I want you to live out the rest of
your life knowing this is what you've caused." John said, just before
turning the gun to his own head. He couldn't control his voice
anymore, and he was screaming louder than he thought possible.
"this is what you have done!"