Everyone is staring at me. Why are they staring at me like that? Okay, just move on
Just don't look at anyone, stay cool, fuck that's embarrassing. It wasn't always like that at school, at least not for me, a while ago I was the most popular guy in the whole school and I was a pretty good singer. Like everyone who thinks they are better than me, I annoyed the younger people and those who weren't as rich or beautiful as me. I thought I was the king at school because my parents were very rich and influential, in short I was selfish and self-absorbed. I always had the latest things, I often got good grades and if I didn't want to go to school, I could just stay at home. It wasn't anything special for me at the time, but now, looking back, I was really spoiled. But I lost all of that, my life, my attitude and my personality, in a single day. Actually, everything was as usual until the crucial moment. As always, I walked through the corridor with my head held high, greeted one or two people and enjoyed the way people made room for me when I wanted to go through, without having to stop had to. Of course not everyone wants me. Those I bullied or had beaten naturally hated me, but out of fear of my gang they also submitted to me. I didn't even beat up the people myself, but rather my gang took part on my orders. Anyway, I pushed my way through the hustle and bustle of students rushing through the hallway to prepare for their next class. I think I was going to my classroom, but suddenly someone jumped out of a side corridor where the toilets were. The person quickly pulled me into the next corridor, the door that separated the two corridors slammed shut behind me. I couldn't see the face because the person was wearing a mask and I can't really remember the person otherwise, it happened pretty damn quickly. She quickly and with incredible ease wrestled me to the ground and, before I even had a chance to open my eyes, gave me a sharp slash with a knife across the face, from my right eyebrow to my left cheek. The very obvious scar will probably stay with me for the rest of my life, but it is not the only one, not anymore. The blood was literally pouring out of the fresh wound and it was an incredibly sharp pain, my eyes even went black for a moment. Maybe I should mention that I wasn't exactly ugly before this injury, I had a girlfriend back then, but more on that later. The perpetrator, who was unknown to me, beat me until I became unconscious. When I opened my eyes, however, I was no longer at school, but somewhere in a side alley that I didn't recognize, with my back against a wall. I had a nosebleed and every fiber of my battered body ached. I quickly realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was, neither the street nor the area looked familiar. So I ran randomly along the streets of the unknown city, hoping to find a way home. My cell phone had just enough battery left to write a message to my father, but I couldn't send it because my cell phone gave up shortly beforehand. In the evening I found shelter in a "camp" consisting of homeless people, but the "leader" took away everything I was carrying. What's much worse is that he took away my chance of ever being able to live a normal life again. Not only once did I have to commit acts of violence for him, otherwise he would have thrown me out and then I would undoubtedly have died. I think he was very feared in the city because no matter who I asked there, no one would help me get home. I secretly collected money to take the bus to my hometown after I found out where I was. It took me a whole year to get the money together, he kept discovering my hiding places and taking it away from me and at some point I started spending the money I had collected on drugs. Nevertheless, I eventually got enough money together and went back home. Completely changed as a drug addict, homeless, crazy teenager who longs to get back to his family, but at the same time is afraid of it. I registered at my home school under a false identity and well, here I am, on my first day at my old school and with it my first step back towards reality. Hopefully no one will recognize me, I don't feel like talking, so I'll have to behave as differently as possible. Although I'm different now, I don't have to pretend to appear different. I have to find the guy who did this to me! At the thought of him and what he did to me, my hands automatically clench into fists. I shake the thought away and continue to my class. Everyone looks at me, from curious to disgusted to confused, of course, new student who looks like he just came off the street, which is true. At least I'm invisible to the girls now. With my hood pulled low over my face, I sit in an empty seat in the back row. The others do their thing and don't pay any attention to me. When the teacher comes and greets everyone, he asks me politely if I want to introduce myself, oh fuck. After a long silence, I answer with a curt, cool, "No." The tall, thin man with round glasses and the green checked shirt tucked into his black jeans clears his throat in surprise and points out to me that no hoods are allowed in class. Instead of saying more, I just ignore him, at least the others could recognize my voice, and I can't take off the hood, otherwise they'll recognize my face. The silence seems to shock my classmates, as whispers and murmurs spread through the room. I try hard not to pay attention to the murmurs, as the words are certainly not nice. "Otherwise I'll have to send you to the director," threatens Mr. Beyer with a hint of amusement in his voice. I have to ignore him again, it takes a moment before he continues. "Really! It doesn't work like that!" he reprimands indignantly . Through the students' increasing murmurs, I can now understand a few snippets of words, like freak and loser. At the end of the day, the news about the new student spread through the school, and there were probably a few rumors, otherwise I wouldn't have been particularly interesting as a topic of conversation. Nevertheless, I made it through the school day, even though I also had to go to the principal. Somehow I was able to avoid calling my imagined parents. Now all I have to do is walk towards the exit without running into any bullies. Suddenly I feel two firm grips on my shoulders, a blink of an eye, then the cold metal of a locker against my back. Two boys press me against a locker while a third, laughing, tries to pull the hood off my head, just barely able to wriggle out of their grasp, but only because I kicked one in the crotch. I immediately take flight, running as fast as I can down the corridor, zigzagging through the crowds of students, but my leg is still giving me a hard time.
At that time, a homeless man tried to push me down a small pedestrian bridge. I was able to escape, but the intoxicated man pushed me against the railing and repeatedly pressed me against a stone pillar in the middle of the small bridge. Exactly against a dragon head attached to the front, which was supposed to function as a fountain. The stone dragon head was less of a problem, but the small, tapered iron pipe was. It was actually supposed to be surrounded by stone, but the dragon's head had crumbled off at the front, so that the tip of the iron pipe, from which water is normally supposed to run into a small collecting bowl underneath, pierced my knee, as it was unfortunately exactly at the same height. and also tore parts of my calf. As I hobble, the boys who had just grabbed me catch up with me. Two steps later I would have been at the large, heavy, double-leaf entrance doors. Someone pounces on me and pulls me to the ground, my impact is hard and painful, I briefly lose my breath. The person who pulled me to the ground is now right on top of me, on my bad leg. I feel the self-sewn wound tearing open, I have to scream out in pain, but my scream sounds as if it were far away, as if it wasn't me who screamed. Blood soaks my dirty pants, my attacker has picked himself up and is holding my arms down, he stands menacingly over me while I squirm hopelessly under, like a fish on land. I briefly think he's about to hit me, but he jerks the hood out of my face. Stephen immediately steps away from me, the students who had gathered around the scene gasp loudly and everything is suddenly very quiet. Great, I couldn't hide my identity for even a day. Stephen looks down at me in shock. He used to be one of my "gang" and one of my closest friends for years. A moment later he grabs me under the arms and pulls me to my feet, he stammers something about how he's sorry, but I don't care. There is blood on the floor where I was just lying, a small greasy puddle of blood. As if in a trance, I stare at the puddle, so many thoughts run through my head when I look at it. Memories so far away, memories that I wanted to forget, that I had repressed. I feel a tugging in my chest, a longing, I can't put my finger on it. A warm hand grabs my shoulder, a teacher.
I can only see her image blurry, her voice sounds like I'm underwater and suddenly I realize why, why I have this pull and the world blurs in front of me, cocaine. My body starts moving, out of school, down the streets, randomly. I stop in an alley. The house in front of me is in serious disrepair, broken windows, mossy window sills and stone steps and the roof doesn't look quite right anymore, so it's exactly what I'm looking for. The temporarily attached barrier tape, which was supposed to block the door and indicate a risk of collapse, is not exactly difficult to remove and the front door is not locked; the lock on the old door has already been violently picked. It was probably too expensive to have a new one installed, barrier tape is enough, it's totally safe. One look tells me that there is nothing left here, completely empty. The old parquet floor creaks under my feet, there is graffiti on the walls, but otherwise the entrance area is completely empty. I fish a needle and thread out of my backpack, slowly sit down on the floor, leaning my back against the wall, and sew up my wound, like I have done so many times before. I have to grit my teeth again and my hands are shaking from the pain and cold, but like all the times before, I manage. The only question is when it will next tear open. The wound is now extremely inflamed and swollen, which is why I don't roll my trouser leg back down. Tired, I lean my head against the wall behind me. If only everything was like it used to be... so easy. Suddenly I hear footsteps outside the open door, stones crunching viciously under clunky shoes. However, I have to hide my biggest weakness and it is very obvious. A smile crosses the homeless man's wrinkled face, he looks down at me, "I've been watching you and you can barely walk, let alone run, so I don't have to be afraid of you," he remarks matter-of-factly. He looks at my leg again, his silence tells me he's thinking. "But I'm not a monster," he adds sarcastically and holds out a small bag of white powder to me. I feel my body tense up and the desire seems to be written on my face because the stranger suddenly pulls it back and says: "You've apparently already tasted it." But I don't care what he says, my eyes are glued to the bag in which he put it The bag was stuck in the bag, my mind was foggy for a moment, but a few seconds later my thoughts slowly cleared up again. I need the bag! I have to have this! I start moving, but the first step shows me that my leg probably won't keep up. The guy is still standing about ten steps away from me, I realize I wouldn't be able to do this. "Damned!" I curse under my breath. The man shoulders my backpack and turns around without another word. I desperately want to run after him, which turns out to be more of an awkward limp. I can still see him crossing the street and finally disappearing into the crowd with my backpack. I hastily try to take a few more steps forward, but the slushy snow quickly brings me down and I lack any strength to get up, not only physically but also mentally. I am at the end, at the end of my strength, at the end of my endurance. Exhausted by everything that has happened in the last year, exhausted by my experiences and experiences that I shouldn't have had, exhausted by myself and my change. I close my eyes, That's it, here is my limit, nothing more is possible.
YOU ARE READING
pride and fall
RandomHe was arrogant. He had a great life. Rich parents, lots of friends and he had EVERYTHING he wanted, but one day he was punished for his arrogance and it couldn't have taken him any deeper. From wealth to the streets and back again, is it possible...