Fragments of Me

Chap 17 : Thursdays

I looked up to see a boy older than me. Maybe two or three years older. Long hair and a face which I thought would have guilt written on it instead what I saw was anger. I rested on my elbows and looked sideways at the condition of my bike. Then the boy spoke up.

The boy : Can you even drive, you asshole? Look what you did to my car. I should call the police and get you arrested.

I think my veins on the left side of my face became visible. Before he could say another word I punched him straight across the face. The impact made him fall on his knees. I took a grasp on his hair and landed several more. His face was unusually soft for a boy his age but who cares, maybe it was my anger not feeling anything. His nose cracked like a toothpick and he was vomiting blood. I punched his ribs and made him cough more out. I let his hair go to which he fell on all fours. Out of some pity I took a hold of his collar and laid his back against the car.  I went to the front of his car and punched the headlights to which it broke. I went over to him,

Me : I don't care who the fuck you are. If you call the police then tell them that Aron did this. The inspector knows my address.

Maybe I exaggerated a bit too much on the last line but what the hell, it seemed justifying. I picked my bike up to check for damages. Small scratches were present, not major ones. I drove home. Mom looked angrily at me and I just told her a made-up story. I didn't want to break the promise I made. I went to the washroom to find scratches all over my hand. Some pretty deep. I pulled my shirt up to see blackened areas across my ribs. And my leg was torn from my thigh to my knees. I took some gauge, bandages and painkillers and the matter was somewhat solved. I wondered what will I have to tell when I go to school like this.

       
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Now the worst things about injuries on your arms and legs are that the hand is always visible and it's fucking hard to wear pants on the wounds. I found wearing a shirt breathtaking. I entered school but before that I had to pass inspection done by the parents who wait outside the school gate. To them how I got hurt was more interesting than where I got hurt. I climbed the stairs carefully to find the fifth floor. I entered class to see everyone looking not at me but my wound. The teacher asked and I told her the story keeping some things off limits. But then I noticed two pairs of concerned eyes looking at me. My heart actually melted. Joana asked and I told her but not the detailed one. She might think that I am crazy. I asked her how does it feel to see me hurt and instead of consolation she laughed it off. But her eyes gave a different answer. I was content. Maybe I need to hurt myself more often if the remedy is so good. As I told earlier, I hardly talked in class. This made some people anxious and some to think of negatives. But I didn't know it made some to think extremely. I had environmental studies which was taken by the Vice Principal. But due to her busy schedule another teacher was assigned. I hated that teacher's guts. She came in class and introduced herself. She asked our names as there was only three of us and we told mechanically. She saw my hand. She giggled a bit and I was a bit taken back. What the fuck is wrong with her? Now the problem with this one was that she decided to burn me on my first class. She asked what had happened and I said so. She told me that she thought I cut myself while trying to commit suicide. Everyone found it hilarious but I thought of making a nasty mess of her face like I did to the driver. Thank you bitch for ruining my mood! School ended. I went to the rooftop to find it unusually empty. Maybe everyone decided to take the day off. Good for me. I lighted a smoke and took some drags. The weather was enchanting. It was windy and the sky had an unusual blue shade to it. The wind sometimes was strong and sometimes constant. My hair danced with it so did my eyes looking at the strands that now fell upon my eyes. I was never allowed to keep long hair and so when I started I found out that instead of straight or wavy hair, I had small curls. They were rough to be exact as I never wasted that much time as other boys do with it applying conditioners and what not. I looked at the horizon when I heard footsteps. I thought either of the four idiots might have come up. Instead it was Arya. Again a torture session. But her face showed anger instead of a want of annoyance. She stood quite close. Slap!!