Mayhem's Beginning (Everybody Changes)

Chapter 4: Unfair

 So it seems as if every couple wasn't like Jack and Rose. When I pictured a relationship I thought of what I saw in those chick-flicks. Then again, maybe my lack of experience blurs my vision to what really goes on.

Perhaps a relationship is simply just two people who can put up with each other. If that was the case, why were so many people so desperate for them? In my past relations with the opposite sex it never got too serious, never even made it past a month.

One peculiar girl that really yanked on my heart strings was Dahlia. I was a sophomore, her a junior. We had sort of a typical outcast relationship, many thinking we were only together because we couldn't get anyone else. Perhaps that was true, but she really left an imprint on me when we separated after just a few sort weeks. It is a sensitive topic to discuss.

We managed to stay on somewhat good terms and even hung out every now and then. In fact, as I was walking through the halls of the school I was going to go meet her in the court-yard. Sometimes plans don't always work out though.

With out any prior warning the strap of my back pack was yanked on. With great brutality I felt my back slam up against the tile on the walls inside of the locker-room. “You think you're funny Mayhem?” My eyes regaining focus, the putrid scent of cheap cologne made it's way up my nostrils. I looked up at Chance as my knees began to buckle. His face was stained red and his muscles contracted in anger. “You think you can make a fool out of me?” A fist was lodged into my gut as the oxygen in my lungs spewed from my mouth. I gasped for air in effort to re-inflate my lungs. A throbbing welt slowly formed in my stomach.

The sound of other men's laughter began, me realizing I was outnumbered. “Where's your jokes at Gay-hem?” Bare knuckles smacked against my face, my head cinching sideways as my neck attempted to absorb the shock. The flesh on my face stung as if I had been whipped by a nine-tail.

There was a reason all of this was happening. Chance Warsaw was just not one to mess with. This high-school was equivalent to a human jungle, Chance being the predator at the top of the chain and everybody else being below him. Anyone that dared to question his authority was beaten and/or socially ruined.

Not even women were free from Chance's wrath. One example being a girl who shall not be named mouthing off to him. Chance threw a party that weekend, asking her to accompany him so he can make it up to her. He flirted, got her drunk, took nude photos of her, and then sent them to everyone in the school. Of course he never came forward to it and it is was never proven to actually be him, but everyone knew it was. No question about it.

My face throbbed, my nerves tightening up. There was zero time to apologize now, apologies being worthless to Chance anyways. My legs were forced forward, my vision watching Chance open the doors to a bathroom stall. The others laughed, me realizing what was inevitably to come.

I jerked forward in effort to escape his grasp, slipping out of his hold like a bar of wet soap. My legs were trembling, my eyes grew hot with tears, and my first instinct was to frantically swing my arms around. Apparently my will to survive made me a hell of a lot stronger, for one of Chance's friends fell to the ground on impact with my fist.

I wasn't much of a fighter, in fact, I refused to fight back. Fighting for an unjustified cause is ridiculous, and like this fight, pointless. I don't know what happened to me, perhaps it was the fear and adrenaline running through me that had me on top of Chance's friend, punching him repeatedly. I was not in control, and after a few moments I was yanked off of him.

I lay on the tile looking up at the other guys wearing letterman's jackets. If they weren't mad before, they were now.

I was violently lifted back to my feet, a shove pushing me forward. Chance grabbed me by the back of the neck and forced my head downwards into the toilet bowl. The sudden shock of aqua raised the hairs on my neck, water splashing onto my shirt as I lodged my hands on the rim in attempt to push myself away from the toilet. No use, my face was rotated around the mezzanine as I felt my supply of air running low. After a few moments of inhaling water I was pulled back up, my lungs inflating with oxygen.

My breathing was heavy, which was interrupted by coughing. “I bet this isn't the first time he's choked!” Chance cracked. The guys all roared in laughs as my head was shoved into the toilet once again. The toilet began making sounds as a tornado sucked all the water down the drain letting air come to my lips. Chance was now standing up, throwing my backpack behind him and yanking my shoulders backwards. My head hit the linoleum, one of Chances friends grabbing my wrists and dragging me. From a distance I heard the sounds of the showers turning on and suddenly the room began to feel moist.

All the guys joined in now for a final beating. They kicked me with their Red Wings, me grunting in attempt to take the edge off the pain. I felt the tip of their boots in my ribs, my back, my legs, and my arms. I curled up in a fetal position to try and keep damage away from my face, the hardest thing to cover up.

Those were the thoughts running through my head. “How am I going to hide this?” You just didn't tattle on Chance. No one ever has, for the consequences are most likely far greater then being beaten on.

Chance forced my arms away from my cheeks, my only sight being the kid I had been pounding on just moments ago. He had gritted teeth, a red welt forming under his eye, illuminating with revenge. Maybe this guy would have felt sorry for me if it weren't for the fact I had fought back. I tightened up my jaw as his bony fist cracked against my chin. My head forcefully snapping, and a trickle of blood escaping my mouth.

That one hurt. It felt as if my jaw had been dislocated, but I moved it up and down to confirm it hadn't. The emotional fear and the physical pain was really hard to compare. Looking back, being a victim of both, they were excruciating in their own way. Chance's fist were big and round, his tactics of torture being elite. But the eerie feeling you get when you knew he was going to strike awful. You turn your head around every corner, listening intently for his voice, making new routes around the school to try and avoid him. He finds his victim though. Always.

Chance pulled on my pants, and one of his buddies my shirt. In a matter of seconds I was stripped naked, taking all my pride with my clothing. Forcing me to my feet, I was violently led to the showers as Chance shoved me in. The burning water hit my flesh feeling like knives. I screamed in agony as my skin was being melted by the roars that were the temperature of the sun. Me, losing my balance, slipped on the wet floor landing chest first onto the tile and my cheek slapping against the ground. They all yelled insults, mostly cliché terms used to describe gays before they left. Broken, beaten, and scared, I lie in the shower cringing. I should have just stayed quiet.