Where ☹ Muke

XV ; i bet their minds would change.

« hemmings :: mentions of self harm. »

The principle slowly stood back at the podium with a faint smile on his face, though it didn't hide the unmistakable tear tracks accompanied by his visibly shaking figure. "Oka-kay, today we're here to discuss a beautifully tragic life of a student."

"You see this boy had it hard from the start of his short-lived life, all beginning at a young age. Now before anybody thinks I'm making any information up, these are notes recovered from past files along with remainders of his journal. No he didn't keep a journal in what you would call a "gay" way, this is what his therapist made him do to release his emotions."

"He was born into a small family, an only child that is. All was classified as normal for a while I guess you could say, that is until his father noticed the boy was different. Instead of going out to play with the other boys he would spend his days hanging our with girls, doing their hair for them and having tea parties. His father hated him for it, so he left the boy and his mother one day."

"Now his mother was decent about losing her husband, that is until he called her up one night and explained to her why he left. She lost it, it drove her crazy knowing her son was a "stupid faggot" that tore her picture-perfect family apart. That's when the woman took it in her hands to escape the reality of the situation, so she drank. The woman drank until everything was numb except her hatred for her son."

"She was an alcoholic -- an abusive one at that, the boy was only about eight when he would show up in school with bruises daily. But the poor boy smiled and played it off as nothing, he would use the same excuse, "sorry teacher, I'm a bit clumsy when it comes to football." That would be believable enough for them to shrug it off."

I remember when that happened to Michael once.

He wasn't there for the first session of class, we were already done with math lab and were moving on to spelling when the door squeaked open. Everybody's eyes averted towards to blonde boy as he shrugged sheepishly before slipping towards the teacher. She scolded him for being late and he'd turned his head from her and squeezed his eyes shut.

It was an odd gesture and after a moment me opened one eye to look at her, and well she looked terrified. I was close enough that I caught snippets of the conversation. She was asking him why he flinched, he only said that he didn't, she told him he was lying, he told her she was acting silly and began to walk towards his seat when she gasped and stepped in front of him.

"What's that?" She asked pointing to a faint bruise blushed over his cheek in a pale mix of purple and green.

"Oh that?" He asked pointing to the bruise, "I accidentally hit myself with a football yesterday miss."

She looked skeptical but nodded before leaning down so she was level with his small stature, she whispered in his ear something I couldn't hear. He nodded at her and she gave him a small smile, a sense of sympathy, before patting his shoulder -- I saw how he flinched slightly -- and allowing him to sit down at his assigned seat before beginning lesson, as if it never happened.

"But the poor boy began coming to school with far worse than a puny bruise on his cheek, it grew intense to the point he would have a busted lip, a fractured rib, a broken arm. He would always use the excuse of a football accident, and nobody paid enough attention to see it was far worse."

"Not only was it hard on him at home, but school was just a bad for him. He would show up in the same clothes at least three times a week and kids would mock him for being too poor for his own good, they would laugh at him often. They hated on him for smelling like alcohol or being too feminine, and it wasn't right at all. He couldn't change his own lifestyle that was created for him."