detonate (ON HOLD)

Chapter Three

        "God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes."

Page 44

February 4th, 2013

        I saw her again today. There are thousands upon thousands of words in the English language, but there are not enough to fully express just how beautiful she was. She probably doesn't even know I exist. We've only had classes together in fifth grade, and I doubt she even remembers that. I do. I remember we went outside one day for an extra recess because our class had been so well-behaved. She stood underneath the tree, looking up at the ever-changing colors of the leaves. Her long, dirty blonde hair was braided, and her smile was more radiant than anything I had ever seen. She didn't talk to any of the other kids in our class ― just like me. She liked to be alone although the other children loved her. She just end up sitting there beneath the tree, and I sat on the grass just yards away unable to bring myself to speak to her. She was too beautiful, and I was too awkward. I would given anything to walk up to her and introduce myself. It would've been too weird though. There's no real way that you can go up to someone and say, "Hi. I'm Luke. I've been staring at you for hours, and I think you're extremely pretty." She would've just been freaked out. I wouldn't blame her. I couldn't help it though. I was drawn to her like a moth is drawn to a flame. Never mind, that's a weird comparison. She was like rain after a drought. She was the kind of girl that made you want to go swimming in the middle of January just for the hell of it. At that point in time, I didn't realize how big of an impact she'd ever have on my life, but here I am today still daydreaming about a girl that I'll never call mine. We haven't had classes together since fifth grade, but I still hold out hope that someday, somehow fate will bring us together. I've never directly talked to her, but I felt like I knew her. She was actually well liked unlike me. That's what made us different. A guy like me would ruin her reputation. They already thought of me as a psychopath. I'm not though. I'm as sane as any other person. Actually, I'm not. If that means I have to act like everyone else, I'd rather be mental. The world is foul, obscene place. People are absolutely cruel. I don't ever want to be like them. I know I might not be worthy of Heaven, but she is. She's the definition of complete and utter perfection. The world... Well, it's no place for someone like her. She is an angel trapped in the nightmare that we call reality. She deserves to be somewhere clean and pure ― basically, she should be anywhere but here. I want to protect her, but I'm not worthy of her. I never will be either. Plus, she doesn't even know who I am ― or maybe she does. I'm just afraid of what she knows. I'm too dark for her anyway ― I'm too screwed up, too broken. I just hold onto this unrealistic fantasy that someday she'll come into my life and put all of the broken pieces of myself back together. She won't though. I know it. I need to distance myself from her anyway. I'm no good for her, and she's too good for me. The only problem is that she means everything to me. This is so cheesy oh God. If anyone ever finds this, they'll think I'm a sissy. But dammit, I love her. I love her so much. I love the sound of her quiet voice and her soft laugh. I love the way that her eyes seemed to light up every time someone would bring up her favorite bands. I love the way her eyebrows would furrow and how determined she is to get the correct answer. I love how intently she reads her favorite stories and the subtle changes in facial expressions when a plot twist takes place. I love the way her hair always seems to fall in the perfect way over her shoulders. I love how she walks down the hallways like she runs the place. I admire how brave she is. Even when something horrible happens, she's always the calmest person. She isn't over dramatic about anything. She didn't make a big deal about how Trevor used to criticize her when they were together or even after he broke up with her. I had never once seen her cry, and hopefully, it would stay that way. I think I'd lose my shit if I saw her crying. It'd be like killing a puppy. I really suck at this. I've never been one for expressing my emotions. My parents think I'm a lunatic. My mom once dragged me to some idiot of a doctor because she thought I had no emotions because I didn't cry at Marley & Me. I do have emotions. I'm just not exactly great at showing them. I've learned to fake it over the years though. If you smile every once in awhile, they'll leave you alone. They won't think you're so depressed. They just assume you're fine. I also learned that if you want to get the bullies to stop physically harassing you, all you have to do is scare them ― make them afraid. In seventh grade, I begged my parents to take me for boxing lessons. My father agreed without hesitation. He said it was, "good I wanted to get out and socialize while participating in a sport." My mother agreed reluctantly, claiming she didn't want to see me hurt. I told her that she should be more concerned for my opponent. After a few months, my trainer, Jen, decided that I was good enough for competitions. She was kind of a hard ass, but that's what I needed. I needed someone who dug deep and pulled out all of my inner anger. In that sense, boxing gave me an outlet. It also prepared me for what was to come. With each competition, I got better. I got stronger. I was on such a win streak that I was practically unstoppable. I finished the season with a record of 18 wins and 10 losses. Just because I did well didn't mean Jen went easy on me. In fact, she was even harder on me. She was so vile at some points, and I'd never admit it to her, but I'm glad she was. She made me a man. She made me a fighter. She made me a champion, and I'm thankful for it. As unpleasant as she could be, Jen was actually pretty cool girl. She was twenty when I was thirteen so naturally, I was into the whole older woman thing. Jen was hot. She wasn't beautiful like my girl from school, but Jen was hot. It was kind of weird that they two of them looked sort of similar ― they both have long, dirty blonde hair and these piercing, intoxicating eyes. Jen's were blue, but hers were hazel that appeared the most beautiful shade of green the vast majority of the time. The only difference, as I've said before, was that Jen was hot not beautiful like her. Something told me that Jen knew it too. Jen had this confidence about herself and her students. She only took the best to competitions, which always gave me a boost when I was down. When I was fourteen, she began to take me to bigger matches. The opponents were bigger than me. They were better than me. I got my ass handed to me a lot more than I actually won. I never understood why she put me in with them, and I was beginning to get frustrated. One day after one of the matches I was in that day, she pulled me outside of the building and started to scream at me. I can still remember it, word for word. "Goddammit Luke! I know you're pissed at me. I know! You thinking that I'm batshit crazy for putting you in with these guys. Maybe I am, but guess what? Have you ever thought about why I've put you in with these guys? Because you're a hell of a fighter, and you can handle it. You're letting them get inside your head. So what if they're taller than you? It doesn't freaking matter! You can do this, Luke. You don't realize it, but you're really freaking good. There is not one other person that I train that I think is better than you. Do you see any of my other students here? No. Why? Because they're nowhere near as good as you are. I know I'm hard on you, but if I was a huge softy, where would you be? You wouldn't be half as good as you are now. I wouldn't be as hard on you if I didn't think you had potential. I don't think you realize it, but I'm proud of you, kiddo. I'm really proud of how far you've come. And I know that you get bullied, but screw them. You're epic, and it's there own fault that they don't see it. You're stronger than you think you are. You're capable of more than they are. So you have to promise me that you'll show them what they're messing with. Show them who's in charge.... Now get your head out of your ass and get back in there. You've got one last competition that you're going to win so help me God." To this day, I still have no idea how she knew that I had been bullied. I didn't think it was that obvious. Maybe she had just assumed, but I guess I'll never know. What I do know is that I never saw Jen the same after that. She was my role model. She was the only person that I felt actually believed in me. She was the only one who gave a shit. That's what her little speech had showed me. She had been there for me all along. I went out into the ring that day, and I won. I won for Jen. After that day, I progressively began to spend more and more time at the gym with Jen. There's still one day with her that I'll never forget. We were sitting outside of the gym. It was probably around six o'clock at night. It wasn't completely dark yet, but the light was nearly gone. It was pouring rain. We were sitting underneath the overhang waiting for my mother to come pick me up. This was a usual thing for Jen and I. My mother always forgot about me. I was constantly waiting for her. We were just sitting there in silence ― not an awkward one but a comfortable one. That was when she pulled something out of her bag ― a medal. She told me that she wanted me to have it. She told me to take good care of it because it was her favorite that she had ever won. I tried to give it back, but she refused. She told me that she wanted me to keep it to remind me that I was never alone and that I should never give up. She wanted me to have it so that I could have something to remind me of her. I was speechless. That's when my mom pulled up. I gave Jen a hug and held on for awhile. She was the only person who understood me. I thanked her again before I ran out into the rain to my mother's car. When I had gotten home that night, I put the medal next to a picture of Jen and I after our most recent competition. I fell asleep that night with a huge smile on my face. The next morning was a Saturday. I had slept in later than I originally planned, but it didn't really matter. I was in the middle of getting ready to head to the gym to see Jen again when my mom came into my room. She looked upset. She told me that I had better sit down. I knew something was wrong so did I as she asked without giving her any attitude. I didn't want to upset her anymore. She told me that there had been an accident. Jen had passed away the night before. She had been driving home from the gym when a truck traveling in the other direction drifted into her lane and slammed into her car. My mom said that she had apparently died on impact so she didn't suffer. The driver of the truck had been drunk, but he suffered no injuries from the crash. He killed Jen though, my Jen. He took away the only person I actually cared about. I can't remember what I did next. I remember that for days after that I screamed and I cried. I refused to go back to the gym. I couldn't go back and pretend like nothing happened. I couldn't go back and see everything ― be everywhere that Jen and I had been. My parents begged me to go back, but I refused. I spent the next full year closed off from the world. I wouldn't leave my room unless it was necessary. I put Jen's picture and the medal into a drawer. They were the only things that eased my misery. The medal still had the lingering smell of her perfume. It was my only source of comfort for awhile. One day, someone came to visit me. It was Jen's younger sister. She was only two or three years younger than Jen, but they could've been twins. I thought I was seeing things when her sister, who's name I learned was Abby, walked into my room. She sat with me in my room for over two hours just talking to me. She told me that she had heard a lot about me from Jen. Jen had told her that I had a lot of potential. She also told me that she had heard from the gym that I hadn't been there since Jen's death. Abby told me that Jen would've wanted me to keep going, and I knew that she was right. Abby sat there, and we shared our grief together. Being with Abby reminded me of all of the promises I had made to Jen. That was the first moment that I finally realized that I needed to get on with my life. I could still remember Jen, but I needed to move on. It's what she would've wanted. She would've screamed at me if she could've for all of the moping I had done over her. The next day, I returned to the gym and trained harder than I ever had. The following day at school, I was about to get beat up again, but Jen's voice rang clear in my mind, "And I know that you get bullied, but screw them. You're epic, and it's there own fault that they don't see it. You're stronger than you think you are. You're capable of more than they are. So you have to promise me that you'll show them what they're messing with. Show them who's in charge." And that's what I did. I ended up with a three day suspension, but I didn't care. I finally stood up for myself. From that day on, I was never again physically bullied by them. They might've spread rumors or talked behind my back, which I knew they did. But I had scared them. They were afraid of me. And I'm not going to lie, I love the feeling of power I have because of it.