I was walking in the hallway and saw Benny taking out his books for the next period. He saw me coming and accelerated his process. I continue marching toward him and as he straightened up—his hands holding tightly to his books—I shoved him against the lockers. He gawked at me, his eyes wavering, gulping. I kicked his legs and said, “After school, go to Adamen Park. Don’t be late.”
The boy said nothing back. People around stared at this situation, though nobody had the guts to even stop me. Pathetic. The same kids, the same witness, and I still have yet to be called in by the counselors or anything like that. It made me grin, giving me such a boost for today. I needed this in order to get through the night.
Adamen Park was a place currently being reconstructed after a terrible storm. There was nobody here. It was the perfect place. I brought two guys with me for the lookout. As expected, Benny was there at the right time. I didn’t hesitate when I saw him, rushing toward the boy, I kicked him right in his stomach. Falling down, his face in pain, but he didn’t scream. Benny had gotten used to this, and it bored me now. So I had to take it to the next level. In my pocket was a switchblade.
I ordered the other two to hold him down. I stood up, watching Benny trying to release himself, and pulled out the knife. Benny stared in terror, struggling even harder. I pierced through his shirt, imprinting my initial onto his chest. He screamed, yelled, begging me to stop. Tears leaked from his eyes, and a temporary satisfying feeling that would keep me through the night. When the damage was done, I told the two to leave, and I had done the same. Benny was barely conscious, bleeding terribly. We had to leave quickly, before anyone arrived.
At home, I quietly opened the front door, gaping at the bottles and can on the table and some dropped on the floor. She was out cold until I turned up. Grabbing one of the empty beer can and threw it at me, banging against my head. “Get me more beer, you trash!”
Anger flow through my veins, however, my childhood fear won over the rage. And I followed her command. Going to the refrigerator, I grabbed a beer and slowly brought myself to the woman lying on the couch. She got up, snatching the bottle away from my hand and slapped me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stealing my knife when I’m not here. Where is it, you mutt!”
During my way back home, I had washed off the blood on the knife. It should be fine, but I still didn’t want to give it up. My body didn’t listen to me, though. It moved without my permission and handed it over. Another smack and I stumbled down to the ground.
The same thing… repeating over and over. I thought I was able to change when I entered high school. Freshman year was ending, and nothing changed. Then the last day of school came. Benny was gone for three weeks. I shouldn’t be caring, however, I felt terrible without having anybody to lash out at. Sixth period was here and it was almost the end.
Without a notice, Benny entered through the door. His face was grim, and his hand held a pistol. They noticed what was in his hand and quickly panicked. The first shot he made was toward the ceiling. Then he unleashed the bullets on anyone he could see, including me. He shot me, hitting my shoulder. I fell down, breathing quickly. A whole different type of fear surged through my body. I gawked at him, my eyes almost the same as him. The position was opposite. He frowned, pointing the gun toward his head, and muttered something that I could never forget. “You did this to me.”
I wrote this story for my school’s yearbook ;P had to keep it in one page.