Rated for mild violence. This is my competition entry, however feel free to crit. I think it's a little confusing, so some feedback on that would be great. Enjoy.
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Dear you,
Yes I now feel safe. But why did you let it get this far? You could have stopped so easily before it got to what it did. I would never have told on you and you know that.
My head hit the wall. Black splodges appeared before my eyes momentarily. I gasped for breath and grappled at thin air. You held on tighter, your hand sealed my only path of oxygen. Slowly killing me.
“Say it.”
I shook my head violently, knowing this was a bad move but did it anyway. When would this end?
“Say it.” This time it was followed by a punch, a warning. Blood spluttered down from my nose and the pain seared all the way up to my head.
I began to choke and the light-headedness made it hard to see my surroundings. There was no running or calling for help this time. I was alone.
“I…” my words were rigid, being forced out by someone who hated me. “I want to die.”
The hold loosened and I dropped to the floor, air filling my deprived lungs.
You smiled that sickening smile. My world was crumbling and smashing to bits around me but you didn’t seem to notice.
“Good. Now if I see you again today I may want to help you with your wish.”
Your left foot collided with my stomach. I groaned and curled into a ball right there on the pavement.
I watched your large frame run out of sight and felt my eyes watering. I wasn’t sure whether they watered out of fear, pain or anger. Probably a mixture of all three.
Picking myself up, I limped towards the main road. I had to get home and cleaned up before mum came home from work. I wiped my bloody nose on a tissue I found in my blazer, not wanting to get blood on my uniform and crossed the road. It was then that it started to rain.
I suppose you thought you were ‘big’. At least I hope that’s why you did it. I can’t see any other reason and I don’t want it to be because you had ‘problems’. Everyone has problems and taking them out on me for the past year won’t help solve them. So I hope it was an image thing. For the sake of both of us.
You know, I didn’t tell a soul. Not even Claire. She had her suspicions, but she let it rest. The bruises that I covered with my clothes. The cuts I stuck plasters over and blamed on my innocent cat. And she never knew. I used to watch her watching me out of the corner of her eye and wonder whether she would confront me. One day, before school, when we were waiting for first bell to go she tried.
I shaded my eyes from the low winter sun and stared out past the skeleton trees. She was scrutinising my words, searching my face to see if I was lying.
“Are you sure, Mark?” Claire questioned me.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I lied bluntly. “Stop worrying about me Claire. Please, you’re only stressing yourself out. I can look after myself; I can handle my own life.”
She nodded determinedly and sought out my hand on the bench. I let her take it into hers and entwine her fingers through mine.
“I’m here if you do wanna talk,” she whispered. I looked toward her and I can remember that moment perfectly. Like a snapshot that is imprinted upon my mind.
The golden early morning light reflecting off her slightly tanned skin. My breath misting the air, creating a tiny cloud in front of me. Her sweet scent lingering around me, long after she left.
I sat alone on my bench and asked myself why I lied.
She’s my best friend. The only person who bothers to talk to this quiet, boring guy. Maybe she realises that I don’t speak out of fear. That I hide in the corner because I’m afraid in case the bullying goes to the next level.
I’ve thought about the end so many times. How it would happen, when. But maybe it’s just something that you have to leave until the time comes. Maybe you can’t plan it.
This was the last time. It was getting dark, the rain clouds turning dusk into night. You grabbed me in a head lock and I didn’t even fight back this time. I allowed my body to hang limp.
“What’s with you?” You questioned me like I was under obligation to fight against you. “Freak.”
Hit one. On the chest, where no one would see. You are cleverer than most think.
Hit two. A kick on my shin, sending me sprawling across the floor.
And finally hit three. A slash with your pocket knife on my inner arm.
Then the sound of footsteps. You ran like mad and for once I saw you afraid. Maybe it’s the mirror image of me when I hear you coming. Maybe we are alike.
So this is it. The last time I have to remember. The last time I have to see your face leering down at me from the shadows. The last time I have to cry. No more fear, no more pain. I am safe.
Mark.
Mark,
Your funeral was short. I’d never been to one before and I was in tears most of the time. I still can’t believe what happened. What am I saying? I knew that something was wrong. I tried to talk to you, but you denied that anything was going on. You lied to me. But I don’t blame you. No. I should have looked deeper. I should have pried more on that cold winter morning by the benches. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry.
They told me you were in the bath. They said there was a lot of…blood. Slit wrists. No note. Just a letter.
Very well written, and the note at the end - from Claire, right? - was a good ending. The fact that he killed himself wasn't too big a surprise, but it wasn't too cliche either, if you get my thread.
