I don't know how it happened. I don't know why, either. I don't even know when or where it happened. All I know is I was walking home from the library with my boyfriend, John, when four of my classmates shoved John and me to the ground and started kicking and spitting on us. They also shouted obscenities, but most of them were lost to the ether, and the few I heard were too vulgar to ***repeat*** on paper. The whole time, I never let go of John's hand.
John is blind, so he had no idea what was happening. I couldn't explain anything because one of the guys had kicked my jaw in almost immediately.
Suddenly, as if realizing what they were doing, my peers stopped attacking and bolted. Thank God someone was walking by and called 9-11. I am forever in debt to whomever dialed.
I now have 5 atomized ribs, a shattered bottom jaw, 2 broken legs and a sprained neck. The doctors said John is lucky to be alive, suffering from a punctured lung, countless mutilated bones, and a cracked skull. Currently, he's in the OR, having a piece of rib removed from his left lung and his skull repaired. Poor guy.
I feel awful for making him go to the library; if I hadn't, none of this would've happened. I'm the worst boyfriend ever!
The doctors just brought John out. He's still unconscious, but they said the operation was a success. They also said he doesn't have severe brain damage, so that's good, I guess. However, they said he might have mild amnesia, so he may not recognize me or recall what happened when he comes to.
Now, it's my turn to go under the knife to have my jaw fixed.
Well, my mandible is wired shut, and I'm on a feeding tube. As if I already wasn't a big enough target for my peers.... Dear God, what did I do to deserve this? Is it really because I like guys? Lord, please don't let it be because I'm gay. If it is, I don't think I wanna live in this world anymore...
John is waking up now. I can't communicate with him, since I still can't write in Braille. Sure enough, he's asking where I am and what happened. At least he remembers I'm his boyfriend. I know this is impossible, but remind me to teach him morse code when I can speak again.
"Dave?! Dave?! " John calls frantically.
I cautiously reach my hand out to feel his, since he knows my touch like I know the words to my favorite song.
"Dave? Is that you? Did I go deaf? What's happening? Where are we? I hear beeping monitors. Are we in the hospital?" he asks.
I decide to beckon a nurse over to translate what I write on the notepad I was given into spoken word.
My jaw is wired shut, John. I can't speak. I scribble, then show the paper to Becky, the nurse.
"Really? Then, how are we going to communicate, Dave?" John replies.
I guess... I don't know.
"Maybe we can use morse code via touch. I've been practicing. Here." he squeezes my hand, spelling out: HI DAVE.
You've taught yourself well.
"It helps that there's an audio version for everything, nowadays," he smiles. I still find it amazing that, even though John has never witnessed another person do it, he always smiles.
You're smiling...
"I am? Should I stop?" John asks.
You better not. God, I love you! John, I'm so sorry for making you go to the library tonight.
"Dave, it's really not your fault. You had no idea this'd happen," he croons.
But, I knew they were planning on hurting us. After you got on the bus last Monday, they cornered me and told me they were gonna beat us up! I explain.
"Why didn't you tell someone?"
They said if I tell anyone they'd kill us.
