The Weird Kid at School

One

Breathe in, breathe out, feel that refreshing sense of relief, the strong solid air rushing through my body. Why can't I get my heart rate down, is it gonna explode? Can your heart explode from stress and anxiety? If that's the case, I should have been dead a long time ago... I would join that fellow over there.

I stared blankly out the door of my Biology classroom, at a fine gentlemen who seemed pretty decent in the front. I eyed him, his clothing suggested mid 1940's. His slick back hair, jet black and his cold cold eyes. His leather jacket torn almost as if a dog had torn him to shreds. Not gonna lie he's pretty entertaining to look at.

I watched him walk down the hall, pause, another step, followed by more. What's he waiting for?

He turned around and that's when I saw it. Blood, lots of it and it was like someone literally scraped the back of his head off, like taking a rock and scratching it against sand paper. His brains were hanging out and exposed and I just stared, I couldn't look away, it was like I was forced to look at this gore. My stomach twisted and turned and I could taste my breakfast in my mouth. Honestly I was sorta hoping he was alive....

I watched him go down the way he came and literally go through a wall, as if an open door was there, no problem and he didn't seem to think anything of it, like he did it all the time. I watched blankly for a while, is he coming back? It's been a while since I've seen auto deaths. He looked like he was a sophomore, maybe even a senior somewhere in between, a junior? Whatever, high school age and he looked like a total Greaser, 70's movie bad boy. The slick back hair, white grease and blood stained T shirt, the bloody blue jeans and biker boots. A total biker boy who met his end too soon... I guess whatever happened was bad enough to leave a guy's brains hanging open. Does he feel a draft? Is it cold back there?

My heart continued to race, and I felt the adrenaline pumping through my veins, making me gritty and pins and needles running through my fingers, no way in hell am I not gonna draw this! It's been forever since I've seen this good of a death, this tragic of a spirit.

I casually glance up to see the teacher still at the desk, still blabbering about that packet she handed and being the little go getter, eager beaver, Einstein, whatever, I finished it early so I could sketch in my notebook which is almost filled entirely.

I pulled it out from under my notes and flipped through drawings of old people, people with axes in their heads, faces burned off, chest ripped open, I flipped through dead people I've seen  and managed to draw. My drawings are pretty detailed in all the gore and I even give them names, describing how I thought they died or at least what condition their in....

My parents are not religious but they do however believe in an afterlife and once my mom found my notebook it was like Christmas for her. You would imagine if you found a notebook filled with disturbing drawings of people who died in horrible ways you would either A, call an exorcist, B, therapist, or C, burn it. However my parents somehow found it fascinating or like magical. Every night at dinner we sit around our small table, and me being the only child is constantly the center of attention whether I want it or not. I remember clear as day sitting down and almost dying of a heart attack when I saw my sketchbook smack in the middle of the table.

"Mom, where did you get this?!" I say in a panic.

My father sits down with an eager grin on his face  and looks out of the corner of his eye to my mom, who also had the same quirky smile.

"Em, did you draw these?" She asks not breaking eye contact as she slides her arm toward my sketchbook.

I snatch it from her reach and hold it to my chest and could feel my heart pounding though the book, and my breathing was tight, my legs jell-o. And I stared at her with the most panic look I could muster, and had tears gleaming in my eyes, so close to crying its like you're standing on an edge of a cliff, so close to falling that even a slight breeze might tip you over.