I gripped the smooth, heavy gun in my left pocket a little tighter after that thought.
Hmm, stupid? Who's stupid now, Asshole?
12
Oh, God, please don't make me relive it again! I don't think I can take it one more time! Please! PLEASE! Just this once, please, don't make me do it! Please...
My pleading is useless. I know this, yet I scream anyway still clinging to that hope that someone may care. That someone is listening to my madness. But, I'm begging to thin air. It's not that They can't hear me, They just don't care. Because it's not God that I answer to Here. There is no mercy Here. I could go completely insane, rip out my own intestines, stomp them into this murky putrid swamp I now call home, and They would simply smile.
This is my punishment. My torture. I am Prometheus and They are the vultures who eat away at my soul. I must be tormented for eternity for what I have done. I know this.
No, I won't do it this time! I'll change it. I'll save them! There must be a way to redo it all!
But, I can't.
They are already dead, and there's no changing that. No going back. No time machines Here.
Why can't I get a second chance?
Why?
Because there are no second chances, Here.
My hatred and rage begin to bubble deep in my soul. It rises like the flames of an unstoppable fire, waiting to erupt at just the right moment.
*
Gun shots and screams fill the heavy air around me, encasing my senses. The thick smell of gun smoke invades my nostrils, nearly choking me. My heart is pounding hard, almost jumping straight from my chest. Boom-boom! Boom-boom! Tingles of release cover my body at that first shot, like a
newborn taking it's first breath of life. I hear the gunfire again and again, and me screaming and cackling like the mad hatter at a blood filled tea party.
One shot. Bang!
Two. Bang! Bang!
And another. Bang!
Bang!
Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posies.
Ashes. Ashes.
They all fall down, and there is just one bullet left to fire.
BANG!
13
“SHUT UP!” I shout at them, “Shut up you bastards! Get out of my head!”
Just shut up, I begin to sob. I cry more and more each time I relive that day. More now, not just because I want all of this to end, but because I'm tired of remembering.
I have so many memories I wish I was able to forget. Erase them as if they never existed. Where's the “delete” button for that?
High school memories would most likely be at the top of the list. They were pretty much all bad in the beginning. Even the ones I first considered to be good, turned out to be some of the worst. Especially those memories that involved John. My playground savior from third grade and once lifelong friend. Once we reached high school, he turned on me. As a rule, friends often change and rearrange through life. This fact in retrospect I was okay with. What I had a hard time coping with was who he became friends with. Of course, who should he turn to? None other than the golden boy himself, JJ. That asshole methodically stole everything that I ever had good in my life. Everything. He stole my self-esteem, my confidence, my best friend! My soul...
God, I hate that guy.
It all started freshman year with John.
That's when the segregation of life and reality really begins to play out. When we are young and naive we all dream of high school as this vast Utopia where we are all friends and walk around hand in hand. In actuality, high schoolers are like packs of wild animals when it comes to friendship. If you stray away from the pack, for any reason at all, you will be cast out and most likely eaten alive. During this time of life, no one strays outside of their circle for fear of being thrown to the wolves. I had always thought of John and I to have our own little circle, but come to find out, I was really alone.
I had no circle, no pack, and I had no friend. I was nothing more than a lame runt left to fend for myself. Nothing but open prey.
14
The first couple weeks of freshman year passed quickly. I hadn't been able to talk to John at all since we started. He had gone on vacation with his family the week before school, and I didn't see him when he got back. No one was answering the phone at his dad's, and calling his mom is out of the question. I just figured he was busy with new classes and homework. Plus, he started football this year and had almost non-stop practice. I, myself, had tons of homework. It seemed as though every teacher assumed that their class was the only one you were attending, and therefore, they could pile up as much shit for you to do as possible. It was all a little overwhelming, even for me. My mother tried her best to fill the gaps that John was leaving in order to comfort me, but now that she started working over-time at Lou Ann's, I didn't get to see her much either.
I was finally caught up with my homework and was itching to just chill out, order pizza, and maybe play some games. We used to do this religiously when we were in middle school. I figured John was just as excited to get back to normal as I was.
Just then I saw John strolling down the hallway. I rushed over to him, afraid I might miss him again and have to try calling the house yet one more time.
“Hey, John!” I yelled, but he stayed turned, “John! John!”
Finally he froze in mid stride, bending his head slightly. John turned around slowly. He had a grimaced look on his face. His body was slightly hunched over as though he were about to get sick. I could see the blood slowly drain from his face giving him a ghostlike appearance. I wondered what jerk-off put him in this mood and was already planning on how we would secretly get back at them.
“Hey, Harvey,” he said softly, almost in slow motion.
“What happened to you, Man?” I asked.
“Nothing. I'm just having a busy day.” he said shortly, quickly starting to turn around again.
I caught his arm slightly, “Oh, well listen, I thought tonight we could rent some movies and just hang out at my house. You know, like we used to on Friday nights. I know I'm dying to hear how stupid the guys on the football team are,” I chuckled and gave him a hopeful smile to cheer him up a little. He still looked bummed.
“Hey, did someone do something to you? You can tell me, you know. If you can't talk about it now, you can tell me about it when we hang out. What do you say?” I smiled again.
John looked down at the floor. He took in a long slow deep breath and released it even slower, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He opened them slowly, as if trying to avoid the reality around him. John peered cautiously down the deserted hallway. I feared he was too embarrassed to tell me what had happened to him that I put my hand on his shoulder. John had shot up so much over the summer that I had to practically stand tip toe just to reach him.
“It's okay, Dude. You can tell me anything,” I said reassuringly.
His grimaced face turned into an almost shameful frown as I held my breath. Whatever those guys did to him must have been pretty bad. JJ and his friends hadn't picked on John nearly as much as they did me for two blatant reasons. For one, John was just as big as JJ and could easily have knocked him on his ass if he wanted. The other reason was simply that John wasn't the one they wanted to hurt. Most often he just got caught in the crossfire trying to defend me.
He looked back at me, but still not quite looking me in the eye. His absent stare frightened my core. Dread rose deep in my gut.
“Harvey,” he said quietly, “You and I have to have a little chat.”
“Sure, Man. What is it? Is everything okay? I mean, whatever JJ did, just ignore that bastard. He's not worth it. We both know that.”
“No, Harv, JJ didn't do anything. I mean, not to me anyway. Look, here's the deal. I really don't want to hang out tonight,” he said emphasizing each word slowly as though talking to a child.
I shrugged my shoulders, “Hey, that's fine. Maybe we could do it tomorrow night?”
John lowered his head slightly
and shook it, “No, I don't think so. I don't think any night will be okay. Do you get me?”
I didn't get him. Why wouldn't any night work? Was he really that busy? I was sure I could help if he was. Just like before. Like we used to.
“Do you have a lot of homework? I can help! Hell, I can probably even do it for you!” I plead pitifully, hoping the deep impending intuition in my gut wasn't right.
“Harvey, I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep spending my weekends watching movies and making fake plans that will never actually happen. Do you understand?”
No, I didn't understand. What the hell is he trying to say? That we're not friends anymore? No. John wouldn't do that to me. We've always been best friends. Maybe he's just having a hard time adjusting to high school. I know I am.
“John...really, whatever is going on, I can...”
“Harvey, I don't want to be your friend anymore,” he said flatly, interrupting me.
It was so blunt. His voice had been as calm as could be, as though we were talking about the weather. It was like this meant nothing to him. Like I was just some random overly talkative stranger whom he was trying to let down easy. Like eight years worth of friendship meant nothing.
I stood silent for a moment, not sure how to react. I wanted to cry, but I also wanted to scream hysterically.
“What do you mean, John?” I played dumb.
This couldn't be true. I'm his best friend! He's got to be fucking joking!
I laughed a little, “You're just joking, right? Ha ha. Let's play one over on Harvey,” I laughed nervously again giving him a playful punch to the arm.
John squared his shoulders and this time looked me directly in the eye.
“Harvey, I don't like you. All you do is get me beat up and made fun of. You have no idea how hard it is to be your friend and to constantly stick up for you! I don't know what's wrong with you, but no one else likes you either. I want to have friends, Harvey! I want to be liked for a change!” he said
loudly.
“I am your friend, John,” I sighed, staring at the floor, completely ashamed of myself. I could feel the tears welling up in the corner of my eyes, and I begged God to let this all be a dream.
“Not anymore, Harvey.”
He turned and walked away without looking back. I could still feel his presence even after he left. The air was thick with his hatred and disgust toward me.
A couple of girls started chatting by their lockers across the hall. They stared at me, smirks glistened across their snobby faces. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I knew they were talking about me, making fun of me. They're always making fun of me.
Their smirks turned into giggles and then outright laughter. I was right.
“Aw, what's the matter, wittle boy? Did that big man hurt your wittle feelings?” they mocked in baby talk as I stood sobbing.
I clenched my fists while wet shame poured down my face.
“Shut up you...you..BITCHES!” I screamed at them and ran down the hall bawling profusely, my throat burning.
Their faces were full of shock, mouths agape, and eyes scornful. How dare I speak to them that way? They were popular and important, and I was nothing. Their salty voices rang down the hallway
as I ran away.
“Get back here, you little shit!” One harped at me, “You're going to get your ass kicked, Carter!”
All I could think was at least they knew my name.
I kept running though. I didn't dare turn around for fear of one, if not both, fulfilling their promise. I couldn't even fend off two high school girls. That's how pathetic I truly was.
John was right. No one liked me. I was crying and hurt not only because I had just lost my best and only friend, but because I knew he was right to leave. I understood that it was hard for him to
defend me all the time. Especially when I didn't know how to defend myself. But still, I thought that was what friends did for each other. I thought friends didn't care about your flaws. I hated to be wrong about that.
That night I ordered a large pepperoni and onion pizza, rented two movies, and turned my TV up so my mother wouldn't realize I was alone.
I tried to forget my hurt and anger, my shame, but it engulfed me. My heart ached with so much grief that I literally wished I could rip it out and throw it in the trash. It was useless anyway.
I stood in front of the mirror staring back at myself for what seemed like hours. Just staring down at my pale skinny body. My thin weak hands. My gaunt pimpled face. Even my blond hair dulled with heartache.
“I hate you!” I cried out.
I held my breath, refusing to let this putrid body keep taking precious air from those more important in life. My vision began to blur with each ticking second. The once pale pink of my skin turned a blush shade of red. It felt as if small bubbles of air were rising inside my brain. My body convulsed for air, fighting me for control. I began to forget about John, about those two bitches in the
hall, about my life. Shadows slowly crept across my vision as the room grew black. Darker and darker.
Boom.
I blacked out.
Blacked out of my forsaken life.
I laid on the floor for more than a few minutes after my head cleared. I just wanted to go to bed and pray to never wake up.
Please, God. Don't let me live another day. I swear, if you don't take my life soon, then I will. Holy Christ. How could anyone ever like me when even I hate myself.
15
Ah, those were the days. The “best days of your life”, right? Honestly, who came up with that shit? I'm not sure anyone ever considers high school as the best of their life. I certainly wasn't one of them. How can anyone truly think that four years of the constant hell of peer pressure really be the best of their life? If high school was the best of what life had to offer, then I'm quite surprised there are not more suicides after college. My high school days were the worst. Although, Joanna made some of those moments bearable, but in the end it just prolonged the inevitable. I really do miss her though. More than anything.
16
Off I go. Off to deliver my vengeful message. My boots scratch heavily against the pavement. The sound is grinding against my eardrums. I feel the cold panic stirring inside me.
Was I being stupid for doing this? What if they are right about me?
More questions raced through my mind.
What if I get caught? What if I chicken out?
What if I actually go through with this?
The last question stuck in my mind. Was I really going to do this?
Yes, of course I was. I couldn't stop now, even had I really wanted to. He has to be punished.
The school door loomed in front of me. Thick heavy glass and steel was all that stood between running back home and entering the building. I paused at the door for only a heartbeat before stepping into the drafty empty hallway.
I took in a deep breath. I peered to the right, then the left. Not a living soul could be seen, however, the muffled roar of teenage chatter could be heard from the cafeteria. That's where I wanted to be, but where I hated the most.
I began walking toward the ever growing sound of casual laughter and nonsense. My footsteps barely making a sound in comparison. I could picture everyone gathered in their respective groups. Each making fun of all the others but secretly wanting to be like each other. Such ironic horse shit. Why couldn't I belong to one of those groups? Why couldn't they just accept me? Am I really that horrible?
Anger boiled inside me. I couldn't tell if it was anger against myself or them. I gripped the icy gun in my hand tightly under my jacket, almost fusing it to my shaky fingers. It felt strong, unbreakable, reassuring. I couldn't back down now. There was no turning back for me. I answered my questions.
I entered the large room slowly, not daring to look anyone in the eye for fear my true intentions would be known. I searched the ocean of kids for JJ. I imagined him sitting at the head of the table slicking back his black gelled
hair as he tried to convince everyone of how wonderful he was. What crap!
JJ's red and white letter-man jacket appeared like a beacon through the crowd. Large block letters glowed brightly against the florescent lights. SCHS Football. Our inglorious hero. It was almost pulsating with egotistical smut. Crimson red was the perfect color for JJ. It suited what I had planned for him.
I lifted the gun in slow motion until it reached beyond the fabric of my coat. I gave one more hate-filled glance at JJ. I tilted the gun higher and higher, zeroing in on my target. I closed my eyes tightly. My vision became nothing but red and black.
The room suddenly became thick with silence. Somewhere deep within the caverns of my mind I could just slightly make out a quiet scream. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, waiting for that one perfect moment. Then with one sweaty finger I closed in on the trigger.
BANG!
17
Cold sweat pours down my face in streams, pooling at my feet. Each time gets so difficult I feel as though I will never recover.
What torment! WHY?! Why did I do it? I'm sorry! Please, do you hear me? I'm sorry!
They can't hear me now. No one really hears me anymore. I don't even think They care what I say.
My stomach lurches with nausea, but I know I won't throw up. I wrap my arms tight around my scrawny body and hug. I wish my mother were able to hug me again, to whisper in my ear, “Be strong, Harvey. Things can only get better.”
H. A. Carter Page 3
