Motivation
March 3 2006
The last hit was like a steam train desperately hurtling straight at my stomach. I fell forward, spitting blood onto the ground. The three tormenters stood over me like executioners. Colin, their leader, bent over and wrenched my chin off the ground.
I saw that on his wrist rested a chain of wristbands, I inwardly laughed to see the blue ‘Stop bullying’ and the black and white ‘Stop racism’ bands balancing there. The only people I knew, he bullied were black except of course me. I was a special case.
I spat blood onto the bands; a slap in the face from Colin punished me for my insolence. I was back on the cold grey ground. My cheeks were on fire, my stomach felt like a well-used punch bag. Tears started to mix with blood on the ground. A harsh laugh cut through me like a knife.
I don’t know how long I lay there, feeling like nothing more than a useless dog. I had been on my knees crying, begging them to stop. This was how they liked it. In complete power, toying with my emotions I’d heard that it was the same for rapists. That feeling of power gave them something. I didn’t really care what they got from it; I just wished that they didn’t get it from me.
After they finally left me for dead I lifted myself painfully off the ground and fell once again onto the wall. After what seemed an eternity I stood up. Darkness was just starting to win the fight against light. I struggled across the road and through a rusty black gate onto a bank. Murky water stood stagnant in front of me. I fell onto my knees and looked at my reflection; my face seemed to be nothing more than a blood mask. My eyes were as red as the blood. I threw my face into the stinking water and washed it. I know the water stank, but at least the blood was off my face.
I turned it was in no surprise to see a teenager in black jeans and a green coat. A spliff hung from the mouth on his acne-covered face. The guy took the spliff from his mouth and handed it to me. I took one puff but handed it back. I wasn’t in the mood. I fell to the floor, my legs still weak from the beating, well that one and all the previous ones. The guy in green came over and scrubbed the remaining water from my face with his coat. He patted my face and stood back up. “You shouldn’t take it you know,” he said walking away. He rarely spoke and when he did it was usually one syllable. For him this was practically a speech.
“Oh and what do you, in your esteemed wisdom, suggest I do.” I asked scathingly.
He shrugged “anythin’”. Back to normal. Thank God.
I got up from the browning grass and, nodding in recognition to the guy in green and walked away, stumbling slightly. My stomach still wrecked with pain, all I could think of were the people who had done this to me, whispering profanities under my breath I stumbled home.
I was nearly home, walking down the path that lead through the church garden. I saw, up in front of me, the large waste of space church building. Ornate windows and yellowy grey brick were in front, actively mocking me. The whole idea of religion annoyed me and dark memories lay for me here. I couldn’t believe that any benevolent god could leave me to lead the life I did. I hurled the stone at the window shouting. The stone simply bounced off it. For a moment I simply stared at the window. Then I broke down crying. Hating myself for not even being able to break a stupid piece of stained glass. Kneeling on the green grass I looked up at the tower. A golden clock shone in the night. The hands showed quarter to 6. I finally lifted myself off the ground and continued my journey home, tears streaming down cheeks.
The sun was almost completely gone from the sky. The last reinforcements had almost all run away and only a tiny line of deep red infantry was left standing, protecting us from complete darkness.
I was too hurt, however, to notice the strange beauty of every normal day. Perhaps if I had, I would not have entered the darkest regions of my mind
and decided on my fate.
I do not know where all the time had gone, but it had taken 10minutes for me to complete a 2minute journey. I rung the bell and was greeted with a single word. Keys. Apparently my mother was more worried about having to get up to answer the door than were I had been for 3 and a half hours. I walked into the kitchen to put some pasta on. My mother walked in to the room.
‘Where’s dad?’ I asked
‘Don’t know,’ came the answer from my wonderfully articulate mother. This was what most of our conversations consisted of. Two words exchanged then nothing for another hour or two. Except of course when we argued. I stormed off into my bedroom to eat the pasta and continued to think. My options were clear to me. Carry on with what was happening now.
Or end it.
I got onto my computer and started to research poisons.
December 2004
I was walking past the church when I heard a rustleling behind me. Four people came through the gate between the canal and the church, rolling some paper up. I wondered for a moment what it was then cursed my stupidity. One of the guys took the spliff and wandered up to me. We were almost nose-to-nose when he stopped and breathed smoke in my face. He stuck out a hand and said in an unfriendly tone. “Hi I’m Colin.” I didn’t touch it. So he lamped me one right in between the eyes. I fell.
He leaned over me. Leering at me with his horrible eyes. His three friends came up and stood over me. One of them pulled out a lighter and chucked it to Colin.
The other two grabbed my arms and dragged me to the church walls. The one who had thrown the lighter pulled off my shirt. Colin leant towards my naked chest and clicked the lighter. Slowly, with a sadistic smile on his face, he moved the lighter nearer. I could feel my heart stopping, my breath heavy. Fear clouded my mind. Then I screamed. The lighter had touched. The tears streaming from my eyes threatened to put out the fiery touch. The lighter was chucked to another member of the sadistic group. I whimpered. The guy looked into my eyes and I saw in his a glint that scared the hell out of me.
This one held out for longer enjoying my screams. My skin blistered. The two holding my arms did not join in the sick games they argued with Colin dropping my arms. I grabbed my shirt and ran.
When I got home I opened the door and ran upstairs crying.
Mum didn’t ask about my nose and I didn’t tell her about the burns. From that moment on I was not a person, but Colin’s special case. I was his, not my own.
March 5 2006
I am writing this at my desk the time is 11:30 exactly. I have just ingested 3 pills from a pot. You will find the pot on my desk next to a glass of drinking water. In half an hour you will run up to my bedroom after hearing a loud bang. In the room you will find me lying perfectly still in a black suit. I beg of you if you read this first before touching me, which I doubt, do not touch me. I have died in exactly the correct way.
In this piece of writing I am attempting to offer some sort of explanation for my action. Not however for you, instead for the world. I feel I could have done so much good, yet I was treated with hate for no reason. I have decided to strike back now instead of later.
Now I do little ill, the world will not be affected by my passing. However if I had continued to live, hate and spite would have taken hold of me and done so much wrong. You can see that even now, after so much pain and suffering I still do things for the greater good.
I have looked up suicide on the Internet and decided that I am not like the rest of the suicidal teenagers that you hear about. Though I am not loved or cared for by you parents, I don’t really care. I don’t need you to tell me that you love me. I think that I feel angry and hurt from the world because I am unappreciated. I had so much to offer yet now I just feel abused, violated.
Look forward to you seeing me.
