A Collection Of Short Stories

His Pain

Warning, it does get a little... intense... some violence and sadness. I wanted to make people think.

“Please Drake, put it away,” I beg, trying not to shake. The rest of my class is staring at Drake as well, fear on their faces and tears in their eyes. I ignore them and focus on the boy in front of me.

Drake unclenches his jaw and roars, “Why should I? What have they ever done for me?” There’s anger in his voice, but I can hear the pain behind it. I’ve felt that same pain every day since third grade when we became the outcasts.

“They haven’t,” I agree, taking a small step forward. “You’re right, they deserve to feel our pain, but that doesn’t mean you need to sink to their level. Put it away.”

Drake doesn’t listen- he rarely does- and instead points his gun to a boy near him. “No! They hurt us all the time and they just laugh! They need to understand that we have feelings too.”

“Trust me; they understand it now,” I argue.

It’s disgusting that Drake had to be pushed over the edge of sanity before they realized that bullying is wrong. It’s sick. This whole thing makes me want to fall down and cry. But Drake won’t listen to anyone else, I’m his only friend. I need to save these people from what they did to themselves.

“But they don’t feel it yet,” he snarls, still watching the same boy.

I glance at him as well. Grayson has never personally bullied Drake, but he never tried to stop it. He just pretended it wasn’t happening- like most of the people in the room.

“You’re willing to throw your whole life away for a couple of jerks?” I’m on my last thread here. If the cops don’t arrive soon, there won’t be anyone left for them to help.

Drake shrugs. “They don’t understand.”

I gulp, trying to swallow my fear. “What about your dream? They won’t let you be a doctor if you do this. You’ll be letting them win and we promised to never do that, remember?”

“I could never do it anyways.” His hands start to shake and he lowers the gun a little.

“Yes you can. You know you’re better than what these idiots say you are. You can be a doctor and save lives and help people. This isn’t going to help anyone.”

Drake hesitates and I take another step. An arm reaches out to grab me and I look over at my petrified teacher. She has a firm grip on my arm. “Stay back here,” she demands.

“So now you’re worried about her?” Drake asks her, aiming at her instead. “You never cared before; when everyone would laugh everyday just because we’re different. You didn’t try to stop them from teasing us.”

That was unfair- Ms. Ryle was too oblivious to have noticed us getting picked on. She sniffs. “I’m sorry, Drake, I would’ve if I’d known. Please put down the gun and I promise I’ll help you.” She’s only making it worse.

“No!” He’s yelling again. “You’re lying! You’ll have me locked up. What other choice is there now?”

I yank my arm out of Ms. Ryle’s grip. “Drake, stop! If you shoot, you’ll be put in jail for the rest of your life and that’s if you’re lucky. Put it down and the sentence will be much shorter.”

“It will still be a sentence.”

I can see it in his eyes; he’s only now realizing what he’s doing. I can see the pain and the worry and the regret swimming in his blue eyes. The same blue eyes I’ve known since pre-k. He was the only person I ever really trusted.

“But you’ll be okay,” I say, still holding back my tears. “I’ll get my mom to help you and you’ll get out in about two weeks.” My mom is a great lawyer, but even she’s not that good. I just hope he’ll believe me. “Please, Drake.”

He starts to lower his weapon again. “You’re right… I was stupid.”

“You’re hurting,” I reply. “Just drop it, please.”

“Okay, I-” His grip starts to loosen on the gun, but he’s interrupted as the police finally get here, pouring into the room. It seems to happen in slow motion as Drake looks at them, panic racing across his face.

I gasp as I realize what he’s about to do. “No!”

The gun goes off and I fall to my knees as blood gets everywhere. But it’s not mine; it’s Drake’s. He shot himself. Police swarm him, calling for an ambulance as my class seems to sigh in relief. My teacher is almost smiling.

I finally let myself cry. I held it in until now, but I can’t anymore. My best friend was in so much pain. He always has been. Everyday I’ve watched him break little by little, thinking someday he would be okay. I thought we would get through it and become stronger. But he broke.

Suddenly, I’m on my feet, blinded by rage. “How could you do this to him?”

“Ma’am it doesn’t look too bad, he’s going to be fine,” one of the cops consoled me.

I shake my head, postponing my relief at hearing that. “That’s not what I meant! It’s these stupid people, standing here, feeling like they’re the victims. This is only a smidgen of the things Drake would feel every day.”

“You’re sticking up for him?” A girl in the back asks with disbelief.

I curl my hands into fists at my sides. “You hurt him all the time. You would all sit there and laugh as if he were nothing but a toy. You bullied him until he broke! How could you do that to another person?”

“He’s a crazy person!” Someone else yells out.

“You made him that way! And you don’t even have the decency to acknowledge it. Tomorrow, you will all go back to picking on someone else. When does it stop? You can’t do this to us anymore.”

Everyone is staring at me with shock, realization and a couple with fear. But I don’t care anymore. They broke my best friend and they’ve pushed me to the edge. So with that in mind, I turn and run out of the classroom. Then out of the school and down the street until I reach my home. No one is there yet, but I’m sure my parents will have a lot to say when they find out about what happened today. They always hated Drake- just like everyone else at my school.

I curl up on my bed, with my knees against my chest, and let myself cry and cry, hoping I’ll feel better. It doesn’t help, but I don’t give in. I have too much to fight for.