My name is Niles Marrett...
Because introductions are clearly not my strong point I’ll give you a briefing on my first day back to school from a two-week break that was little more than late nights on the PC, British rain, and sleeping during the day.
Unlike other boys, my dreams consist of black mist.
All I’ve ever wanted was to disappear, just fade away, sink into the ground, evaporate. I didn’t care about being remembered, I didn’t care about seeing myself avenged for all the pain the people in my life put me through.
I just wanted to be gone.
I’m the chosen one, not in a good way as is clear by my overly negative connotations. I am the one selected to be this year’s sacrifice. A deer to hunt while the hunters bond. As they say; if you spend all your hate on one, you must love all others.
“Touch me, fag, and you don’t want to know what I’ll do,” Said my sandy-haired partner in science.
I was numb, his comment meant nothing... Maybe. If it doesn’t affect me why do I wish to die once I’m safe at home?
I read somewhere that people who say they want to die actually mean they want to be saved.
Do I want to be saved?
To be very honest it doesn’t feel that way, I wanted to die, to be killed by a bully. Then all the pricks that chase me would be shredded by their guilt, all the onlookers would wish they did something, and maybe I could haunt them.
If I killed myself would they be guilty? Or would they call me a drama queen and send me off to a psych ward?
All the hurt that had gathered up inside me over these past few years build a wall. Too hard for me to get out of, soft enough for someone to break down.
I am weak.
If being bullied wasn’t bad enough my grades were gradually and noticeably slipping. I just couldn’t bring myself to care though, at some point in my life I would kill myself. I know I will. If someone else doesn’t get there first.
I got out my exercise book.
′Fag‘, ’cocksucker‘, ’Die, die, fuckerfly!′ Was graffitied in my book, below it was a small drawing of what I presumed was me sucking a dick with a rope around my neck. Nice.
I heard a small chuckle come from beside me. I caught a glimpse of him and no more, any more and they would think I was coming onto them like they all do.
He was tanned with short black hair and tattoos running up his neck. He was good looking but that meant little to me any more, all the hate that had been projected towards made me project only hate. I could not possibly love someone.
I felt some paper hit my back. I ignored it and pretended I didn’t notice it. I was proud of myself for succeeding when my lab partner picking it up and shoved it in front of me. Once again I pretended I didn’t see it and ‘accidentally’ knocked it off my Q&A sheet. He caught it, opened it, and shoved it in front of me again.
It was a picture of a boy sucking a test tube, I guessed it was supposed to be me but even my doodles aren’t as shitty as that. I pretended to observe it like it where a map then turned it around as if I didn’t understand what it was. I shrugged and let it fall off my desk.
“Niles” I heard Mrs. Baron say in her French accent. I looked up with wide eyes, pretending not to know what she was talking about. “Niles don’t leave trash on the floor.” She said pointing at what was on the floor, I pretended to be surprised when I picked it up like ′well that wasn’t mine’ with a questioning glance towards it.
“It’s not mine but I guess I’ll put it in the trash.” I lied, she said nothing.
I saw her eyes on my graffitied book as I sat back down. “Don’t draw all over your exercise book either, its a mess, do you want to pass science?”
I sat directly in front of her, as I did with every teacher since I told the principal about the bullying. Like moving up a row helps. They did nothing.
She could clearly read what was in my book and yet she ignored it, blamed me for it. Do you know the feeling you get when someone says something so shocking, rude and cruel that you just don’t feel like you can respond because of its hostility? I couldn’t comprehend what she was thinking. If I was in her position I would silently guide me out of the classroom, ask me what was going on and offer for lessons after school or something. Why was she doing this?
“Niles! Do you want to pass Science?” I had thought that to be a rhetorical question, it was better off as one. Your digging yourself a hole asking your students if they give a shit about the subject you teach.
Unable to respond seriously with all the annoyance I felt at her complete disregard for my feelings I replied, “I guess.” I shrugged, that obviously didn’t stand well in her book.
“Look you might think that high school is the time to have fun and muck about but in the end what you do here is what will decide your future, take some responsibility for your actions and try to take an interest in your subject.
“You’re going to need this subject in your everyday life.”
Why was she telling me this? I felt like crying. When she saw my upset face for some reason she began to reprimand me even harsher than before.
“I want you to pass this subject, I really do. But in the end, if you don’t pass it won’t affect me, it’s you who will end up on the street handing out flyers. Do you understand?”
I didn’t understand, I understood how someone born in a cult might feel, I understood how someone facing death might feel and I even understood how the bullies that bully me feel... But you were beyond me.
What was this?
Was she bullying me too?
It took my absolute hardest not to break down and cry. I wanted to huddle under the table and squeeze my legs as close to my chest as they would allow while crying my eyes out. But I was stronger than that, still, why was she telling me off?
“Why are you telling me off?” I felt myself say, it sounded stupider than it did in my head, more childish and hurt than I had intended.
“I’m just trying to get you to understand...” I saw a glimmer of guilt swimming in her piggish blue eyes. “Your future is important to me, I don’t want to see you on the street just because you couldn’t keep up in my science lesson.”
I couldn’t keep up? Where had that come from, that was random, harsh and unnecessary. Hurt is built on a foundation of confusion and so when all hurt was gone it was because I’d made up my mind about her, I knew just what kind of woman she was, she was a bullying bitch, I would have to learn to ignore her like I did all the others.
I heard the bell ring and I was the last to pack up, honestly, I felt quite comfortable here, with everyone gone that is. The teacher being the first to go.
An empty classroom.
There was something so serene and quiet about it.
Like no-mans land.