Revenge

People strike back. Even when it wasn't your fault.

A hand on the back of my head shoves my face into the dirt.

I’m nose-to-nose with a worm, and up-close and personal with the grass.  There’s a rock sticking into my thigh right where I’m sprawled on the ground.  I was only 50 yards away from my house… 50.  If only I had left school 5 minutes earlier, I would be inside, safe, instead of out here with mud on my face.

            I decide not to get up, because if I do, they’ll just push me down again.  I hear their snickers and taunts behind me, but I refuse to rise until they’re gone.

            I don’t know why they torment me so much.  I’ve never done anything to them.  My mother says that people are only bullies because they’re jealous.  So, maybe I’m too smart.  Maybe my grades are way better than theirs.  Maybe they’re jealous that I’m ‘weird’ and they’re… normal.  Normal meaning, they like the same music artists, they shop at the same stores, they like all of the same stuff.  That could be it.

            I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin.  I had two best friends.  But once high school hit, everything changed.  They were so desperate to fit in, to be liked.  They moved on, and left me in the dust.  Once that happened, all hopes of my fitting in with everyone else were lost.

            My friends deserted me, and I was completely alone…

            Of course, my mother doesn’t know how bad everything has gotten.  I don’t want to worry her.  And in truth, I think we both know why they bully me.  We’re just too afraid to admit it.

            The laughter has retreated; I can still hear their guffaws echoing in the distance.  Finally, I take a deep breath, and say goodbye to the worm that is now snaking its way down into the earth.  As I attempt to stand, I feel a hand on my elbow assisting me as I rise.

            My heart nearly jumps out of my chest, and I stumble backwards onto the ground again.  I look up into a pair of brilliant green eyes.  Mark.  What was he still doing here?  He should be running off with the rest of my assailants.

            Mark had just recently transferred from another school.  Immediately he had become best friends with Jake, Natalie, and Michael (the evil people who just shoved my face in the dirt).  He was the lowest on their totem pole because he was new, but if he worked hard enough, he could become second in command to Jake.

            So, why"WHY was he still here, and trying to help me up???

            He offers his hand to help me stand.  I ignore it and stand up on my own, eyeing him suspiciously.  I brush the dirt from my clothes.  He tries to help, pushing a clump of grass and dirt off of my shoulder.  I take a step back, out of his reach.

            “I’m… I’m sorry about them,” he stammers.

            I still don’t say anything.

            “Really, I’ll tell them to stop,” he continues.

            His eyes look genuinely apologetic, but I can’t take any chances, so I turn, and run the rest of the way through the forest to my house.

 

 

            The next day at school, I watch Mark.

            Now, I’m not necessarily stalking him.  Just… observing.  He talks and laughs with Jake, Natalie, and Michael, but he seems… distant.  It’s almost as if he were feigning his own happiness.  He looks over at me then, and our eyes lock.  He raises an eyebrow at me and I force myself to look away, blushing profusely.

            The entire day, he’s polite to them but you can tell he’s on the outside.  Like, there are probably jokes he doesn’t understand, or things he isn’t invited to.  Or maybe, he’s just bored with them.  Whenever Jake says something that Natalie and Michael find downright hilarious, Mark’s eyes glaze over, though he still smiles and chuckles slightly.

            That day, I leave school at a decent time.  I’m walking through the wide clearing that leads to the thick strip of trees behind my house.  I call it a forest, though there are hardly enough trees for it to really be considered that.  I’m almost to the first line of trees when something hard sails violently into my shoulder blade.

            “Ah!” I yelp, whipping around to face the offender.

            Jake, Natalie, Michael, and Mark.  Surprise, surprise.

            “Mark tells us you didn’t have fun playing in the dirt yesterday,” Jake sneers.  I shoot Mark a dark look.  He stares at me guiltily.  “Well, we thought you’d like stones instead!”

            A shower of pebbles rain down.  They aren’t large enough to really hurt me, but I’ll probably have some bruises tomorrow.  I use my bag to block most of the rocks, but my arms and legs get quite a few hits.  I try to run away, towards the trees, but they rush after me.

Natalie gets in my face and shoves my shoulder.  “You thought you were getting away that fast, Clark?”  She hooks her foot behind my ankle and trips me.  I have no time to catch my fall.  My butt hits the ground in a painful smack.  Mark stares at me wide-eyed, mouth half open.

My butt is on fire. Tears come to my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.

“I didn’t do anything to you Natalie,” I choke out.

Something flashes in Natalie’s deep gray eyes.  “You didn’t do anything??? Wow, you really are stupid,” she spits furiously in my face.  I’ve never seen her like this… so… angry.  I mean, smug, yes, but angry, only once before…

It had been only a few months before the end of eighth grade when disaster struck.  I had been in my house alone, with my mother gone to the store.  Sitting in the living room engrossed in a book, I heard something that sounded like a tiny explosion coming from the basement.

A fire roared, and quickly began consuming the rest of the house.  I ran upstairs to grab the phone, hastily dialing the three emergency numbers.  A fire truck was on its way, but not quickly enough.  The fire had already begun snaking its way up the stairs, blocking me in.

Smoke was beginning to accumulate in the house and a coughing fit quickly ensued as I looked for a way out.  I cracked open the window to my room, sticking my head out and knowing immediately that I could never make that jump.  And even if I did, I wouldn’t survive.

Tears came to my eyes then as I realized there was no way out, and I still couldn’t hear any sirens.  I sank to the floor, waiting for my painful death.  Soon, the smoke got to me, and I feel asleep.

I finally awoke hours later in a hospital bed, oxygen mask on my face.  My mother sat near me, crying as she held my hand.  I had a few burns on my arms and legs, but it was nothing serious.

I later learned that I only managed to get out of the house alive thanks to a brave fireman.  He’d lost his life in the process.  That fireman was Natalie and Jacob’s uncle.

I tried to apologize for their loss, but neither of them had wanted to hear it.  They had been really close to their uncle, and they blamed me for his death.  Of course, it wasn’t really my fault.  I didn’t make the fuse box in our basement explode.  I don’t want to be living with my aunt right now, but it’s what happened.

And now they’re taking their anger out on me.

“That wasn’t my fault…” I say now, struggling to maintain my composure.

“It was all your fault.”

A tear escapes from my eye.  I brush it a way quickly but Natalie still sees it.  She sends a swift quick to my thigh and hisses, “You have nothing to cry about.”  She turns and stalks away with Jake and Michael.

I cry earnestly now, tears cascading down my cheeks in torrents.  My butt hurts.  A lot.  I may have broken my tailbone.

Mark is still standing there, staring at me.  I glare up at him through my tears.  He kneels down next to me.  “I’m so sorry… I thought… I didn’t know they would… It’s all my fault…” He sputters his apology.

“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “It is.”

He helps me up, and I let him because I don’t think I could have done it on my own.  But as soon as I’m upright, I shrug off his hand, and limp the rest of the way home.

“Clark, I’m sorry!” He calls after me.

“They’re your friends, so fix it!” I yell over my shoulder.

 

 

The next day coming home, I hear footsteps in the grass behind me.  It’s them.  Already.  Can’t they at least wait until I’m almost home?  I whip around and find myself staring into a pair of bright green eyes.  I stumble back, startled, and Mark catches my elbow.  I yank it out of his grasp.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I’m walking you home.”

I stare blankly at him.  “Why?”

Mark sighs, and stuffs his hands in his pockets, kicking at the grass.  He thinks about my question for a lot longer than what seems necessary.  Finally, he says, “I feel really bad about what they do to you.  I heard the story about the fire… And I don’t think you deserve any of this…” He rubs his thumb over a bruise on my arm.

His eyes have genuine concern, and I almost feel tears come to mine, but I blink them back and mutter, “Okay.”  We walk in silence until I hear Jake yell from behind us, “Mark?? What are you doing?”

Mark turns around, pulling me behind him.  Jake, Natalie, and Michael walk towards us, looking at Mark with contempt.  “You’re protecting her?” Jake says.  “You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“There shouldn’t be any sides,” Mark replies confidently.

I’m clutching the back of Mark’s shirt.

Peering around his shoulder, Natalie’s eyes shoot daggers at me.

Jake and Mark are having an intense stare-down, and I’m desperately trying not to puke from nervousness.  Jake slowly steps up to Mark and calmly says in his face, “It was just a bit of harmless revenge.”

“It was harmful, pointless revenge.” Mark spits back.

Jake, Natalie, and Michael walk away without another word.  Only glares.

I’m shaking as Mark turns to face me.  His eyes are trying to assess how I’m feeling.  He must be having trouble, because I’m not sure either.  My heart is pounding so fast I can barely breathe.

Suddenly I look up at him and whisper, “Thank you.”

There’s a lot more meaning than just gratitude in those two words, and I can tell he understood it.  We walk the rest of the way to my house in silence.

 

 

 

The next few days, Mark continues to walk me home.  There are no more confrontations with my usual assailants, but they sometimes they appear on our walk home, just standing and staring.

Mark and I talk a lot and we get to know each other better.  He even started sitting with me at lunch, and talking to me between classes.  I actually had a friend.  We laugh together and like the same movies and books.  He’s really nice, and I wish I could have known that earlier.

One day, we were walking home in the rain, just on the edge of the clearing, laughing about how ridiculously people act around celebrities.  “Really, I don’t get it! They’re just normal people,” I say, smiling from under the hood of my rain jacket.

 “Exactly!  I can sing too, but no one has my picture on their wall.”

“Really? I want to hear you sing now…”

Mark starts belting out a few obscene notes, and I burst out laughing.

He’s terrible.

Soon, we’re both hooting with laughter at his lack of skill, and I have tears in my eyes that mingle with the rain on my face.  Most of the time we spend together is spent like this: laughing.  We laugh so hard; we don’t even hear my assailants approaching.

“Something funny?”  Michael says.

Wow.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak.

Mark and I stop laughing, but our faces are still red.  Quickly, Mark regains his composure, and positions himself between them and me.  “What do you want?”  This inquiry elicits a sneer to form on Jake’s lips.  Natalie is notably absent.

“Well, Mark, I’ve told you before, I want revenge.”

“You got your revenge already; go home!”

Jake snickers.  “That was nothing compared to what I want to do…”

“Jake, stop; it’s over.  This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not over until I say it is.”  With that, Jake and Michael run at Mark, and soon, he’s on the ground, struggling as four hands manage to detain him.  I slowly back away, wanting to do something, but knowing I’ll be of no help, especially when Jake starts throwing punches.  I want to cry.  I hate seeing Mark get hurt and I can’t even do anything about it.  I’m too weak.  I can’t inflict any damage.

Despite those facts, I jump straight into the middle of the fray.  A fist slams into my back, as I drape my body over Mark, shielding him.  “STOOOOP!!!” I wail, crying earnestly now.  Jake grabs the back of my shirt and throws me into the mud.  I land on my back, the breath knocked from my lungs.

“Clark, go! Run!” Mark warns, but I’m still disoriented from the impact of the ground.  Jake comes over to me and doesn’t even let me rise before he sends a blow to my jaw.  Blood comes to my lip, and I desperately try to get Jake away from me.  I make the mistake of glancing at Mark, who’s still fighting with Michael, and Jake grabs my hair and shoves my face into the wet grass, using his other hands to hold mine behind my back.

“AH! STOP, PLEASE!” I beg, desperately, as he twists my wrists in his hand, almost breaking my arm.  Mark finally breaks free of Michael when an old, navy blue pick-up truck pulls up at the edge of the clearing.  I’ve never been so happy to see a car in my life.  People practically never come down this road.

We all scramble away from each other, and watch as the driver rolls down the black tinted window.

Natalie.

She’s the one in the car.

 Jake and Michael scramble in the truck beside her.  Mark comes to stand beside me.  We watch them, confused, expecting them to drive away.  Natalie sneers at me through the open window, and turns the truck barreling toward us.

Mark grabs my hand and we dart to the side.  Natalie hits the breaks and swerves to the side trying to turn toward us again.  The rain beats down harder and the truck’s wipers swish furiously.  We run towards the trees.  They’re too close together for the truck to fit.

Tears run down my face and rain blurs my vision.  I run as fast as I can and nearly slip in the mud.  Mark and I constantly swerve to the side to dodge the truck.  I hear Jake’s hooting laughter and look back to see the front tire of the truck slide through a big patch of mud.  The truck comes careening towards us just as Mark and I reach the trees.

The grill slams into us, sending Mark and me flying into a tree.  A fiery pain shoots up my back, and my face is marred as it scrapes down the bark.  The truck still has no control and slams into the tree trunk, rolling over Mark’s leg in the process.  We’re both bloodied, beaten, and quickly losing consciousness.  There’s an unbearable pain in my head, and blood rushes in my ears.

Natalie, Jake, and Michael scramble out of the truck.

“Look what you did!” Michael says, sounding aghast.

“Me!  It was Jake’s idea, and you backed him up!” Natalie sputters.

“Guys, what are we supposed do?” Jake asks, looking around wildly.  “I didn’t want to hurt them this badly! I thought I could just freak them out!”  Jake rakes a hand through his hair, now spiky from the rain.

“We should call 911.”

“No, Natalie; they’re dying, and we’d end up in jail!”

Natalie jumps back in the front seat of the truck.  “Then get in!” She yells.

I watch the blue truck pull out of the clearing, and drive away.  Rain still batters my face as I turn my head towards Mark.  His face is placid even though his leg looks like it could never be used again, and his arm is bloodied.  I look at myself sitting in a pool of my own blood.  I try to reach into my pocket and grab my cell phone, but I can’t move.  I’m paralyzed.

Mark looks at me and says calmly, “I can’t move.”

“Me neither.”

We stare at each other, thankful that these last moments on earth together aren’t painful.  We’ve accepted death and we’re ready for it.  Now it was just a waiting game.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says.

“Don’t be.  It’s not your fault.”

“This time.”

I smile at him, remembering when I blamed him for my stoning.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too.”

I watch as Mark takes one last shuddering breath, and the world goes dark.

Reviews

[Jessica Healy]

Strong writing. You have a great grasp of language and have a lot of potential.

I am going to guess you are a teenager. The subject matter and the style suggest it - as you get older and write more, you will find that not only does your style develop, but so do your subjects. The story itself is a bit cliche and I found myself wanting to skim it, but that's only because every writer has been a teenager at some point. As you keep writing you'll find more creative topics.

The ending was meh. You don't need to resort to a shock twist to evoke a response from your readers. You did a great job of establishing identities and SOLID motivations. The fire backstory was excellent - why throw away a complex mesh of interpersonal relationships and an intricate exploration of survivor guilt for some crazy b***h in a car and teen maybe-lovers dying?

I'd suggest that you focus on heavy reading for this phase of your writing development. You have some great talent, but you need to augment it with literary study. Soak in methods other writers use - your next piece should begin to incorporate things like metaphor to augment straight descriptions or foreshadowing to build up plot tension.

Sorry if this seems harsh, but I think you have some serious talent, so I'm not going to blow smoke up your a*s about how great it is. I'm going to give suggestions on how to improve. Keep it up, however. You have a bucket of potential.

[Falon Quirke]

This isn't too harsh. I'm happy for your honesty. I admit that I often have trouble building plot tension, especially in the novels I write. However, I didn't kill them necessarily to evoke strong emotion, I just had a feeling that they needed to die. But maybe I could have found a less morbid way to end the story. Thank you for your comment.

[Claudia Stark]

Wow, great pacing, really vivid and the characters are well-developed and interesting.

[Falon Quirke]

Thanks so much!

[Careline]

Amazing. And actually, i don't mind that they died. It was meant to be, in some kind of weird way...

[Falon Quirke]

Thank you!

[Seven Eves]

Ignore my rating.
0 is simply nothing, you see, and I couldn't think of what to rate this.
It was amazing, and I pictured every moment, but then they DIED.
And I was like....what.
So I'm speechless.
I just...I just don't know.
So I rated you with nothing.
Because....I have nothing I-...I just can't.
But excellent job....
I just....can't...

[Falon Quirke]

LOL Thanks, I guess... That's pretty much the response I was going for.

[Winter Frey]

._. Dude, you need to make them be alive. Please say they are.

[Falon Quirke]

:p sorry, no. :( I hope you liked it anyway! :)

[Winter Frey]

Aww...Yeah, it's a great story. It makes me a little upset that they died, but I still like it.