Fucking emo

Fucking details.

I went looking for him after he didn't show up. I felt embarrassed and humiliated that I was the one looking for him, especially him. I found him at the skate park. In one quick motion his boxers stretched almost to his shoulders with the first pull. He grunted in pain, but I kept pulling, spinning him around. His shirt covered his face, revealing his torso up to his armpits. He made no movement to get out of it, his arms upwards in the air. I pulled from the front three times, hearing him lose his breath in pain with each tug until the fabric slowly snapped.

The carefully clothed, stylized emo kid was now just a skinny bag of bones to be used as a punchbag. I kneed him in the balls, and he fell on the floor whining. I grabbed him by his hair and forced him to look at me. I spat on his face again, and suddenly, I was back in the woods watching those two guys die with him.

You think things are going to change after trauma. You think life will be irrevocably different and altered in ways that can't be restored. But that wasn't the case. The only thing different is you. Deep inside, either I was damaged beyond repair or the world healed too quickly, too damn quickly. I shoved his face away, went behind him, and walked towards his skateboard, which was only a few meters by the fence where we sat. I saw him remove his shirt and stare at me from the ground as I grabbed it and put it upside down against a set of concrete stairs. I held it firm with one foot on the lower end and started stomping hard with the other. One, two, three. The board broke in half.

I picked up the two halves and brought them to him. He just stared at them as he kneeled with his pants down his ankles to pick them up and look at them. I moved behind him and grabbed his boxers again. One swift pull, and I stretched them over his head, lodging them firmly over his chin. I kicked him in the ass, and he fell face forward on the cement.

"Get up!" I yelled at him. Kids and guys from school had gathered around, but I couldn't tell if they were cheering or in silence. I was just looking at him. Blinded by his underwear, he stumbled his way until he was standing up on his twiggy legs. "You're gonna walk home like that," I said. "And I'll see you Monday."

He said something muffled by his underwear, but I didn't bother with it. "Walk," I commanded, and he started walking. It was a slow and pathetic penguin walk, and I saw him head towards the fence. I kept pushing him and tripping him a couple of times, not caring that he was scraping his hands and knees. Once he reached the fence, he held onto it and started going along it until he found the exit. I saw him disappear onto the sidewalk, and I knew he wouldn't take it off. Then I left the other way to walk home by myself.

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