Bully

Chapter 29

For the first time in my pitiful life, I groaned as the alarm clock sounded, indicating that I had to get ready for school. It was probably a regular reoccurrence for any other kid, however to me is was next to impossible.

  But as usual, the impossible seemed to happen to me.

  The scene with Jimmy had been bouncing around my stomach all night, allowing me next to no sleep. I'd never really felt guilty for what I done, because somehow I had always reasoned that it wasn't entirely my fault. I had tricked myself into thinking it was acceptable because of how much abuse I received myself. I'd had lectures off school councillors, teachers – even Emily – and not a single person had ever managed to make me see fault and admit a guilty conscience. However, somehow, Weedy Jimmy had.

  He was entirely right – I didn't deserve Emily. I already knew that, so why did him saying it suddenly make me revaluate my relationship towards the preppy blonde haired, blue eyed girl? By taking an interest in her, I was putting her in so much danger and it just wasn't fair. Shamefully, I didn't even think she was in danger from Bugs or Moseby ... I thought she was in danger from me. All I knew what to do was crawl away, or break things.

  I didn't want to break her.

  Sighing with reluctance, I dragged myself out of bed and prepared for today. If I had learnt anything from my life after my father's departure, it was that anything could happen. Today, I had that feeling that something was going to happen. I couldn't explain it, but my gut churned with uneasiness. I considered staying home today. Something just didn't feel right, and maybe by avoiding school, I'd avoid the problem. However I had promised Emily I'd be at school today, so despite this imminent trouble looming over my head, I got up and began to dress.

  After throwing on my rather distressed clothes, I began my ritual of observing my body in the mirror. It was something I had become accustomed to after the abuse started. At first, I had just checked to see how visible the wounds were, but after a while I would just stare numbly. It wounds had became too obvious to try and conceal so I just let them show openly. But with my bully reputation, everyone just assumed they were from fights. It used to anger me.

  Now, I had just reverted back to staring numbly. With my father gone, no new wounds had appeared and it almost felt... strange. Uncomfortable. My body was forever a changing canvas. A mishap sculpture of dried out and cracked clay. To see it without a freshly inflicted wound wasn't right. In fact, some of the bruises and later cuts had begun to heal nicely.

  My body never healed. It shouldn't – the idea of appearing like a normal human being was preposterous. Looking at the person in the mirror felt like I was looking at a different Aaron Byker, not the scared cowering boy I was used to. I didn't like it. It scared me.

  As much as I hated my lifestyle, it had become monotonous and familiar. Night after night I had wished for change but now that the opportunity presented itself to me I couldn't face it.

  Grabbing the nearest and sharpest thing I had at my disposal, I picked up a pen and stabbed it right into my forearm, wincing as the metal tip met my flesh. My old friend pain opened his arms and hugged my body close.

  I slammed my eyes shut as red liquid trickled from the wound, and then retracted the pen. A shudder ran down my spine, and I almost felt... relieved at the pain.

  Shaking slightly, I grabbed my coat and threw it on, not wincing a bit as they cold material pressed against the raw flesh.

***

  As I drew closer to the school I began to notice something was going on. The traffic was heavier than usual, and a lot of kids were milling about on the outside of the school ground. I frowned – I had postponed going to school for as long as possible to the point I was half hour late. That just begged the question why everyone was outside, rather than inside.