Brickhead

As he walked along that long, same old concrete sidewalk, he couldn't help but notice how winter had come so quickly. It was freezing, the trees had lost all their leaves and the sun was barely anywhere to be seen, hiding behind the clouds as if scared of him. And to top it all off, after he'd finished his last class for the school day he'd unzipped his bag to find no jacket in there. He didn't know where it had gone, because he could have sworn he put it in there not 50 minutes before. But he couldn't stay around and look for it, because he knew he had to get home before 4 o'clock. His mum hated it when he got home late because he had chores to do, and she cooked dinner so damn early. It was a fair walk home, but as long as he kept his headphones blaring in his ears, the trek was tolerable. He trudged along, cold and shivering as cars whizzed by on the road. Then he heard them. Laughing their dumb, goofy laugh and making way much more noise than they needed to, they were such brickheads. 'Ah shit, here we go again' he thought to himself. They'd been annoying him all day, throwing rubbers and pencils and chewing gum and pretty much anything else they could find at him from the back of the classrooms. And on top of that, they were giving him a hard time about the sneakers. He'd only gotten them this morning - his dad brought them home when he came back from work - and he absolutely loved the shoes. Thought they were the coolest shoes ever actually. But apparently, the other kids didn't seem to think so. He tried to walk faster (but not too noticeably faster) to get away from them, but they still noticed him, and purposely quickened their pace to walk after him.

"Hey Ethan, let us borrow your shoes", they yelled from behind him. It was still a 15 minute walk from where he was till home. He couldn't handle this for 15 more minutes than he needed to. He was getting sick of them, so he decided to make the walk home a little shorter, and cut through the old abandoned railway station. He had done it a couple of times before, and it wasn't like he wasn't allowed to do it either. He hoped they wouldn't follow him, but this hope was to no avail. As soon as he entered the large, dimly lit station, they turned and followed him in. Now he was stuck with them. He could hear them further behind him, saying things to him, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying through the music playing in his ears. A minute passed, and just when he thought they had stopped and got bored of tormenting him, he felt a finger wrap around one of the cords from his headphones, and pull them out. "C'mon man, let us borrow them. Just for a day, I'll give them back," he heard one of them say behind him. Ethan turned around. "Can you just piss off Ian and let me get home. You can't borrow my shoes". He saw a flash of anger go across Ians face. "Okay I'll stop asking then. Give me the shoes" said Ian menacingly.

And it was at this point that Ethan had had enough. Ethan swung his arm out, hoping to connect his fist with Ians face, which to Ethans surprise it fortunately did. Ian staggered backwards, shocked that Ethan had actually punched him. But to Ethans dismay, that moment of shock was only for a brief couple of seconds. Ians arms were as big as Ethans legs, and the blow that connected Ians fist with Ethan's face felt like he was being hit by a truck. He fell down on his hands and knees; one hand against broken glass lying on the ground, and another falling awkwardly on a stray brick. He felt a pair of hands close around his feet, trying to pull one of the brand new white shoes off. He kicked out, trying to loosen the grip, but to no avail. He wasn't seriously going to lose his shoes to this dickhead was he? It was then that his hands closed around the brick, and all of a sudden his arm swung around, and the brick connected with Ians head. The grip on his shoe instantly loosened, and Ian fell to the ground groaning. Ethan was filled with hate, hatred for this kid that had given him a hard time for the past few years for no apparent reason. Ian had always been bigger than Ethan, so he could never do anything to stop Ian for picking on him. But now he figured the tables had turned. Ians friend screamed, but Ethan could barely hear it now through the blood and adrenaline pumping in his ears. Ians friend wouldn't dare go near Ethan, for fear he would end up like Ian. So Ethan watched him run out of the dark station, stumbling on a loose piece of concrete on the way out.

It was at this point that Ian started to get up, muttering unintelligible things to himself as he clumsily tried to lift his body off the ground. So once again Ethan hit him on the head with the brick, this time with more force. And again, and again, and again, and again, with an animalistic rage that seemed to flow from the brick straight into his body. Ian lay there slumped, lifeless on the cold, hard ground. As Ethan got up from the kneeling position he was in, he noticed his hands were bloody, covered in the sticky red liquid. But for some reason, he wasn't too bothered. He felt as though the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders, that he was now unrestrained. He picked his headphones off the ground and plugged them back into his ears, and looked at his watch. It was 4 o'clock, so he'd have to walk home quick. He was already late. But what he was more annoyed about than being late, was that he had got bright red specks of blood on his brand new white shoes.