Gus

A Million Voices

When I was 14, I started high school.
In the summer before I started high school, I saw a bunch of construction being done in the pile of ashes where Tessa's house used to be. I hadn't heard from her or her family since the incident.

On my first day, I didn't talk to anybody. I did my usual thing and strutted through the halls like a normal schoolboy should, not chatting away and taking up space in the hallways with your pals.
I'm sorry, can we just talk about this for a moment? You're walking to your destination, whether it be on the sidewalk, hallway, or train station, and all of a sudden, you get stopped by this group of people who are hogging the sidewalk senselessly! I mean, it's not even much better when they walk and talk because they walk LIKE LITTLE BLABBERING TURTLES. Like, you can't MOVE away from the middle or, like, get closer so other people can actually WALK?! I mean, that's why it's called a SIDEWALK, RIGHT???!!!! We have to WAAAAALLLLLLKKKKK.
I'm sorry. Off point. I just needed to get that off my chest.

Throughout my first year, I made one friend. His name was Stu Penish and he didn't talk much, like me. When we did talk, however, it was usually about upcoming schoolwork. We didn't talk or see each other at all by sophomore year.

In sophomore year, my grades plummeted down fast. I had to be held back for a year when I failed 3 classes. I would be known as the kid that went to 9th, 10th, 10th, 11th, and 12th grade.

When I reached my junior year (with my new group of classmates), I became depressed. I didn't know anybody, I wasn't doing well with my grades, and the teachers said I was a complete failure.
I remember coming home on the day that winter break started and my mother told me she got a letter from the school that I needed a tutor for physics, algebra, and history. She told me the tutors would start visiting me over breaking being some extra assignments to help me. Jesus, I thought, why do all the teachers wish you a good break when you get all this?

And so, I spent the entire break in my house, doing the extra assignments. It didn't do good for my depression; by the time break ended, I skipped the first day back. I couldn't bear to go in that day. Not yet.

That night, I stole a knife out of the kitchen and kept it in a drawer by my bed. I kept it there for a few days before deciding to use it.
My mother caught me literally red-handed when I tried to sneak the knife back into the kitchen.
"Gus, what's that on your hands?"

Crap. I didn't see there was still blood on my hands.

"Food coloring," I lied.
My mother came over and saw the knife in my hand. She pulled my sleeve and gasped.
"Sweetie... why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Because I can't stand it anymore, Mother."
"What, baby?"
"Everything! The way you always treated me, school, the people at school... Mother, the teachers say I'll live in a cardboard box for the rest of my life. I've never had a real friend or anybody to talk to! Can't you see that?"
My mother simply stared at me. "Don't use this anymore," was all she said, taking the knife away from my stained hand, "go wash up."
I obeyed and scrubbed my hands until there wasn't a spot of blood left.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

How could I?

I thought about a happier life I could've had and it soothed me. I eventually fell asleep at 2:00 in the morning.
Suddenly, I found myself walking down a long path in the local park at night. I had no idea where I was going. I turned a corner and saw my physics teacher standing in the grass. She was frowning a very big frown at me. I walked past her, where she began following me, staring straight at the back of my head and keeping that freakish frown on her face. I came across my algebra teacher, history teacher, a group of my classmates, Tessa and her family, and my grandparents; they all did the same routine the physics teacher did.
I was soon being slowly pursued by pretty much half the people I knew. They all had big frowns, big stares, and just followed me in the park. Then, all of a sudden, Kelly leapt from the front of the crowd and onto my back. Immediately afterwards, the rest of the crowd began charging towards me. I tried to fight them off, but to no avail.
I felt them all tearing at me, wanting to just rip me to pieces. I began hearing screams coming from some of the vicious crowd:
I heard my algebra teacher scream: "If you don't pass, you'll live in a box!"
I heard a classmate scream: "You're such a weirdo! You never even talk to anybody! What the hell's wrong with you, Shy Boy? Huh?"
Shy Boy. Most of the kids in my grade nicknamed me that.
I heard Kelly scream in a shaky voice: "I tried being nice to you and you shut me out! You can go to hell, Gus!"
I surrendered to the millions of voices ringing in my ears all at once before I woke up at 3:45 A.M. I didn't fall back asleep that night.

I spent the next few months contemplating my future. I decided after I finished high school, I wouldn't go to college; everybody said I couldn't do it, so what was the point? I'd probably get kicked out of college anyways.