Touching Cole Matthews

The end only means a new beginning

Cole Matthew's POV

Its been around 3 years since I've gotten off of the island, I'm 18 now, my experiences and memories still fresh in my mind. My now best friend, Peter Driscal, had also gotten off of the island with me, though at the time, we were still as distant as ever, which was completely understandable. My scars from my encounter with the Spirit Bear were still very visible, though they no longer counted as a painful memory but a comforting reminder that everything I had experienced throughout my life was necessary for me to be where I am today. I graduated a year late due to my time on the Alaskan Panhandle, which meant Peter had graduated right next to me.

~Flashback~

Peter sprang up, shoving me roughly, making me stumble and fall to the ground. "Stay away from me! I don't need your help!" He screamed.

"I'm so sorry!" I repeated.

"You're not sorry for anything!" He shouted. He kicked the ground, pelting me with gravel and dirt.

I shielded my face, and got to my feet, but Peter stormed forward and shoved me again. "Why don't you beat me up again? I don't care anymore!"

I quietly stood my ground.

"Maybe you're scared of me," Peter said swinging his fists. He struck me squarely in the face. "Go ahead, hit me!" He taunted. "Kill me. I don't care anymore!"

"You do care," I said shielding my face. "I'm not ever going to hurt you again. Can't you see that?"

"Liar!" Shouted Peter. He hit me hard in the gut. "You're scared of me."

When I refused to fight back, Peter grew bolder. Again and again he struck me with his bare fists. I raised my arms to try and ward off his blows, but I didn't fight back, nor did I run. This seemed to only make him angrier as he hit harder with each blow.

As the hits pummeled me, my own anger was smoldering. I grabbed deep breaths and told myself I would not get angry. Not now. As I tried to back away, I stumbled over my shoelace and fell. Peter was now on me instantly, hitting and yelling. All I could do was curl my knees up to my chest and try to cover my face.

He then started kicking me. It felt like being hit with a sledgehammer...

Is this was Peter felt like a year ago? I asked myself.

I rolled away but the next kick caught me in the face, slamming my head back. I tasted blood. The world spun in lazy circles. The hammer kept hitting. "Stop!" I gasped. "Please stop!"

"Then fight you coward!" Peter screamed like a madman.

"I'm not going to fight you!" I shouted as the next angry kick to my stomach took my breath away.

Then the kicking stopped... I opened my eyes in time to see Peter drop to his knees, in hiccuping sobs. His body shook so much it was almost as if he was having a seizure.

"I'm scared." Cried Peter. "I'm so scared. My thinking gets all mixed up, and I feel like the whole world is falling on me..."

Wincing, I sat up. "How can I make you believe that you don't ever have to be scared of me again?"

"You just say that," Peter sobbed.

"Peter, I'm not a bad person. I got mad at you because I was really mad at myself. I thought my dad beat me because I was worthless." I paused. "The dances, carving the totem, carrying the ancestor rock, touching the Spirit Bear, it was all the same thing -- it was finding out who I really was."