now for something completely different... chapter 6
winter comes i begin planning to kill JJ brothers and his crew and the other kids who hurt me. i will bury them in the snow. i make a list. i've had enough. i'm known as a monster because i fight boys. the girls are afraid of me. i'm starting to fail classes because i'm constantly in detention. though i do my work (there's nothing to do) i barely keep my grades afloat. i keep getting suspended for a day here, a weekend there, or maybe a week for putting boys in hospital. for breaking bones like arms and noses.
i skip class again because i know the JJ's and AB and HA are going to be there. it's my favorite class - english - but i can't enjoy it with them hassling me. i hide out in my favorite secluded spot, under the stairwell in the unused classroom area, not knowing that's where they smoked. they think i came to join them. when i said i was going to tell on them so they can get kicked out they gang up on me and beat the shit out of me.
hey! an addition!
it wasn't enough beating the crap out of me. the older of the group, AB and HA decide that a mere beatdown wasn't enough. let the bitch suffer. they drag me to a classroom closed off thats unlocked. the room is dusty, it's dark. they drag me on the floor by my hair and make me bite on an eraser while they take turns raping me. if i try to fight, they punch and kick me. they threaten to break my hands and to take it like the bitch i was. i can't even cry. these monsters, shadows in the dark, holding down my legs and having their way with me. it felt like forever. they're laughing and making cruel jokes. i can't even hear them anymore.
the bell rings. it's the next pass time. the boys finish and leave, laughing about the slut they turned out. i've had enough. i want to kill myself. after getting my clothes together, so i go to the music room and find the sharpest scissor i can find. i try to slice my wrist. it's dull as fuck. i go to the shop class and find a file and sharpen the fuck out of it. i cut my wrist. it's not deep enough. i try again. still too shallow. one last time, i get it. but the blood don't stop. i hold it and run back to the music room. the teacher sees me coming back from break and freaks the fuck out. i get sent to the nurse who tapes it down and the counselor talks to me. i told her i didn't want to live anymore. they call mom as dad is working. i get taken to hospital.
i don't like the hospital. sick people die here. i saw grandma here with her cancer. though she came home, she wasn't the same. bedridden, sick. throwing up sick. i came home everyday and told her what i learned that day and she would tell me another story. after dinner, she's sick again. i sit with her, hold her hand. sometimes at night i can't sleep i sit in my favorite chair, or if she's feeling too sick to sleep. we sit in the dark together and i hold her hand and the black and white telly would be staticky and i'd fall asleep on the end of her bed wishing i didn't have to go to school. i didn't want to be here at the hospital. i wouldn't get grandma's stories. i wouldn't sleep in her room where it smelled of cedar and mothballs, of aspercreme and bengay and kayo syrup and peanut butter and choclolate and peppermint, of vo5 shampoo and tcb styling pomade.
so i fight. i want to go home. how dare mom leave me here? i didn't ask to be here. i cry and beg her not to leave me and she says the doctors know better and they will help me get well. i tell her i just wanted out of the school. she says she has to go. be good and i will be able to come home. i refuse to stay. the orderlies come. they're big men. i kick them in the nuts. they go down. i kick them in the chest. they go down. they call a code. more come to hold me down. i get to biting and kicking and scratching. i'm getting out i tell them. the orderlies tackle me and sit on me, then i get stabbed by something. i find my strength, afraid they will hurt me like those boys did and throw them off. i keep swinging, i punch, i claw, i bite. they're not keeping me here. i scream, i'm not staying here. you're not killing me here. hospitals are where you go to die, dad always said. white doctors poison the brown man. they test bad things on them. that's why the syphilis pictures in the Mosby's always show brown men. the white doctors did that. i don't want to die here.
the drugs slow me down and eventually everything is dark. when i wake up, i'm in a dimly lit room, it's cold, i can't move, i look and i realise my wrists and ankles are tied down by leather belts. i scream and struggle. i get one hand free. the orderlies come in. i punch and scratch. i get a leg free. i kick. they shoot me up again, they punch me in the chest, they sit on my legs and my wrists and ankles are held down. tighter they put the straps on. i get weaker and i can't fight anymore. i fade. i wake up again and scream and fight. damn she's a monster, a demon, we shot her up 5 times and she keeps at it. i work a hand free. get the locks. they hit me in the face with a bag of locks and i get shot again. 6 shots should do it, maybe 8. get 8. the pain is too great i scream and scream and can't move then it's darkness again.
i wake up. it's cold and dark. the only light comes from the small panel at the door. i smell cologne. i turn my head. i see someone, a shadow, sitting in a chair. a man's voice says he's been assigned to keep an eye on me. i'm the most monstrous patient they ever had. they never had someone fight as hard as i did. i'm here to keep an eye on you, he says. i'm here to make sure you're not a danger to yourself or anyone else. i can't see, my eyes are heavy. it's fucking cold. i can't move. i try lifting my arms, they feel like blocks. i hear metal rattle. they're heavy master locks. i can't move. i hear the chair push back. i can't speak. he says he's going to get the fight out of me. he likes them fiesty. i can't scream when i feel his hands on my face. i can't hear anymore when his cold hands move lower and lower. i can't scream i feel like i'm choking the cologne is so strong. i can't move he's on top of me. i can't breathe. his cold hands under my shirt. i can't breathe. his breath on my skin. i can't move. it's cold. you must like it he says. my eyes burn and tears fall but i can't speak, i'm so drugged up. it's like a bad dream. i try to make a sound. he laughs. you must like it. i don't want his hands on me, his tongue on me, his lips his teeth on me. he's pulling away my pants and i don't his hands there. its so damn cold. i move my knees and he pushes them down. i can't move my legs. he bites me when i raise my knees. you're mine, they'll know forever. i freeze when he pushes my legs apart. i see red when the pain is much worse than getting kicked, or when the girl put her fist in there or when the evil crew made their rounds. i don't see anything anymore, i don't feel anything anymore. i can't even scream. nobody can hear you scream if you're only screaming inside your head.
when i wake up, it's still cold, the room is dark. i can still smell his cologne. but i don't know if he's there or not. is he sitting in that chair watching me? did he leave? everything hurts.
to this day i can't smell that cologne without having a major full on flashback freakout screaming blubbering total breakdown. they don't make the cologne anymore, but i avoid crowds, the mall, the theater, the rink, anywhere where i could smell other people. i'm scared of smelling that awful smell. everything else i can forget, but that
that's all for now kids. i'm starting to sober up and i can't write anymore without feeling sick.