My Final Choice

Matthew's Fight

I awoke. It wasn’t able to sleep right away, but I felt well rested. My hands felt numb and had smeared blood on them.

“Where did I get this?” I said out loud.

I pushed off the blankets and my answer was revealed. There was a hole on the left side of my wall. I must have created that last night during my anger wave. I stood to inspect it. The hole was pretty deep. You could see some of the rusted pipes that lead to other apartments. At least I didn’t break a pipe. I grabbed some of my clothes and headed in the shower.

The water felt nice. My body had smelled like sweat from the running and anger. The water was cool but relaxing. The noise helped me take my mind off of things. The soap stung my injured hands, but it felt great on the rest of my body. The water slid off my arms and legs giving me a great feeling of sanity.

How was it that one minute I was happy as hell, then suddenly it blows up? How can one man make me feel like a little kid again with his kind personality while the other brings a monster out of me? Why did I have to deal with my dad?

There was a knock on my door, “Hey, I’m heading off to work. Don’t ruin anything!”

I raised my middle finger at the door. I couldn’t have one moment of peace before that man ruins everything. I shut off the water and dried myself with the towel. Did everyone have problems like these in their family?

I headed out to the kitchen. There was another note on the table.

Going to the bowling arena with my highest fighters. Be back late.

I crumpled the note and tossed it aside. I looked at the counter. The mess was clear, but there were dents where it had made contact with the blade of the knife. I traced a finger over them. Did I really do this? Was I really strong enough to have made these? The old man will have a good laugh out of this. Maybe I’m really son of a powerful magician that gave me his powers that I only unleash when my true anger is spilled. I smiled. I would meet with this man later. I grabbed my stuff along with an apple and locked the door.

I walked slower today. I wasn’t in the mood to go to school. I wasn’t in the mood for the insults or boring lectures. I wasn’t in the mood for teacher asking everyone to turn in their permission slips and see kids enthusiastically hand in the papers, while I slip deep into my seat. I could feel it in the light and slow breeze that today was going to be a long day.

I arrived at school five minutes after the bell. Mr. Burrow grinned as I walked in. I ignored him and headed for my seat. I took out my sketch pad and started drawing. I really didn’t care if he came up to me and yelled at me again. I didn’t even mind if he was going to tell me a snide comment. I was actually looking forward to it. I still needed to let out some steam.

“So not only do you come late to my class, you also decide that you won’t pay attention to my lecture. How many times do I need to remind you that this is my time?!”

I stood to look directly into his eyes, “Mr. Burrow, you can remind all the fucking times you want. You say that this is your time and that you deserve respect, but you’ll never get it from the bastard ass way you act. Well, at least you won’t get it from me.”

“You dare talk to me like that, St. Claire?” His face was reddening with anger.

“No, of course not. I’m just reviewing my lines for a play.” I said sarcastically.

“I will not have this type of talk in my class--”

“Oh, so you’re sending me out? I mean, that’s what all teachers do when they can’t handle a student.” I got closer to his face, “Can’t handle me, mister?”