Love Kills

Hang on in There

George Wilson White.

Short. 16 years old. Gay. Long hair. Dresses weirdly.

However, none of these were the real reasons George got bullied. The reason George Wilson White regularly got pushed around in the hallways or made fun of, was the way he always acted weirdly and had random anger outbursts. George could be seen smoking weed during lunch break, talking back to the jocks and bullies, sleeping during class, shouting at the teachers and nerds while still declining alcohol during school parties and studying during breaks. He could not possibly have sent out more confusing signals if he had tried and so nobody at Bluesburg High School really liked George Wilson White. The mixed signals he sent out made people unsure about him, almost frightened them.

At the moment George was very unaware of this while he, as quietly as possible, crept into his mother's dark bedroom. A strong smell of cigarettes, alcohol and cheap perfume got to him as he bent down next to her bed and opened her handbag. As he rummaged around, she stirred in her sleep and George froze, holding his breath. After a few seconds of quietness he breathed out in relief and left the room as quietly as he came. He looked at the dollar bills in his hand. It wasn't much, but enough for now. George yawned as he looked at the clock and involuntarily counted how many hours he had left before he had to get up. He did not want to count did, did not want to know, because the amount was never high enough.

It felt as if his alarm went off only minutes after he had closed his eyes, but George still forced his feet to meet the cold floor as he stumbled to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. The first sip of the hot, bitter drink made him sigh in happiness. He thought of an article he had read about making your own happiness and thought that if one was to make their own happiness, coffee surely helped. He soon finished his cup, got dressed and went to wake up his sister.

"Hey, Annie. How are you today?" He asked her as he knelt down next to her small bed and stroke her face gently. As she opened her eyes he picked her up and took her to the bathroom. She blinked her round, brown eyes sleepily as he changed her diaper and dressed her.

"Hey you," she said.

"Hey you," George replied.

"What would you like for breakfast today? We have..." George sighed as he opened the fridge.

"A tomato, a jar of mustard and a jar of pickles." He turned to the cupboard instead. There wasn't much there either, but he found an almost empty pack of cereal.

"Cereal it is!" George said as cheerful as possible, as he filled a bowl with cornflakes and water. He would use some of his mother's money to buy food after school. He didn't mind skipping breakfast really, it was Annie he was concerned about. His little sister was only two years old and he was worried that cereal and water didn't give her the nutrients she needed to grow properly. Luckily she got food at the kindergarten, or else he wouldn't have known what to do.

"Sleeping in class again, George?" A stern voice asked him.

George's head shot up as he looked at the teacher in front of him, Mr. Green.

"My apologies sir, it won't happen again," George said as he blinked his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep them open.

"So you say every time! Maybe don't stay up playing video games so late, huh?" Mr.Green smiled as if he just had told a funny joke and the students were expected to laugh.

George didn't laugh; laughing would have been implying he found Mr. Green funny and therefore it would be a form of lying. George Wilson White was not a liar.

After class, George remained seated to quickly finishing off his history homework before hurrying to class. As he handed his homework over to Miss Smith he wished that she would not take the time to have a proper look at his homework, but of course, she did. At least she did not make a big fuss about it in class, but handed him back his homework and told George that she would like a word with him after class.

"How are you George?"

George took a deep breath, closed his eyes and counted to ten. He then let the air out and focused on calmness. He hated it when people asked him how he was. They rarely meant it, but expected a short, dishonest answer. They wanted to turn him into a liar, a cheat. He was not a liar and would never lie! However, when he opened his eyes and looked at his teacher, he thought she might actually want him to answer honestly, since she was looking at him with a concerned expression on her face, waiting for an answer. George felt his anger cool down and thought he should answer her since he had been silent for an abnormal long span of time. Still, there were many ways to interpret the question, he could tell how he felt in this very moment or start a long monologue about his inner feelings and thoughts. That would probably bore her.

"At the moment, I'm a bit tired," he finally said.

"Let me ask you something, do you find my class boring?" Miss Smith asked.

"Yes, but I find most classes, really." His teacher sighed.

"Is there nothing that motivates you, George?" George thought about this question for a while.

"I think there is," he answered unsurely. "What sort of thing are you thinking off?"

"Like a career, a hobby or a dream you have," she said pushingly.

"There is a dream I have," George said. Oh yes, he had dreams. Dreams of his mother never, ever drinking again. He dreamed of coming home and having his mother standing in the kitchen, cooking a warm meal for him and Annie. The smell of warm bread would fill their house like it sometimes did when he was younger. She would look beautiful and clean and smile at him and as he sat down at the kitchen table she would give him a huge portion of stew and warm bread. The dream hurt. Sometimes, he dreamed of his mother dying and him quitting school, living at home and taking care of him and his sister. It was a horrible dream, but it had a really nice part where he would have more time to be with Annie where he would read for her and give her warm baths. George's biggest dream was to run away from their godforsaken city and never look back. He would take Annie with him and just run away, not caring about his mother or school or stupid rules. Sure, it would be difficult at times, but he would show her so many places and he could teach her all he knew while traveling. Then Annie would never have to endure the tortures of school.

"I'm sorry, it may be a bit of a personal question, but could you tell me your dreams?" Miss Smith said after several minutes of silence. That was the moment when George saw a red haze in front of his eyes. He did not realize that he was standing until the table fell to the floor with a loud bang.

"How DARE you fucking talk to me like that!" He breathed heavily and his hands were held in fists.

"George, please calm down!" Miss Smith said, looking shocked.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You're not my mother and you can sure as hell not tell me what to do!"

George wanted to grab Miss Smith's hair and slam her head into the desk. Her blond hair was long; he would get a good grip and be able to pull hard. Maybe he'd even pull her head off. He would stand there, watching the life run out of her body with each heartbeat.

Before being able to act, he stormed out of the room.

"My apologies about today." George looked to the floor. He felt sincerely guilty about thinking so badly about Miss Smith.

Miss Smith looked at George and sighed.

"I guess I was out of line as well," she said, thinking of how she had asked personal questions about his dreams.

George nodded; she should never have said 'sorry' to him. When he did not say more, Miss Smith got slightly uncomfortable. She wanted to ask George if he had ever considered a psychologist, but was afraid he would overreact again. Things would be much easier if this incident had never happened.

"I would like you to apologize for shouting at me as well. I cannot tolerate behavior like that," she finally said.

"My apologies for shouting at you earlier Miss Smith, it's just... sometimes I overreact."

Miss Smith gave George a sad smile.

"I know my dear, I know."