Blissful School

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A school boy has been taught to hold up his rage, but today is the day he can finally release.

Submitted: September 02, 2016

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Submitted: September 02, 2016

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Blissful School

 

Jamie Hill had the whole of year 11 at a secret gunpoint. He’d snuck in a handgun to his leaver’s assembly. Every teacher had escaped the hall, but for the rest of his year, they weren’t so fortunate. Devin Parish was sweating like a pig after Jamie had knocked him on the head with the stump of his gun, and stabbed his pinkie finger.

He was sitting in between Devin and Sam Winkler. Still, on the last week of his school days Jamie was tormented, like any other day at school, but Devin’s and Sam’s and the majority of his classmates still persisted to get a rise out of him. Now that’s perseverance. Devin and Sam were teasing him and knocking him around at the assembly. Jamie would seem like they weren’t getting to him, but they had known him for 5 years, they knew if they were getting to him. Jamie was just glad that he wasn’t sitting next to Mitchel Saunders.

It was in the middle of the assembly where both boys sitting next to him were distracted, trying to find themselves in a photo of year 11, that Jamie chose his moment. He looked down at his backpack by his feet and pulled out a Beretta 87 target. Then from his blazer pocket he pulled out a switchblade. It was when Devin had regained concentration on Jamie that he stuck the blade into the pinkie, attaching it to the arm of the chair. Once his scream had attracted everyone in the room Jamie hit him with the gun. As Jamie rushed to the aisle Sam Winkler chased after him.

“Get back!” Jamie yelled as the rest of year 11 was gasping in fear. Sam refused to listen to him, climbed over Devin’s body, quickly receiving a gunshot next to his foot. This is when every teacher and a couple of students from the side rows had escaped through the emergency fire exits. This was no big deal for Jamie however, as all his main hostages were sitting in the main twelve middle rows. Sam wasn’t harmed but he had frozen, examining the bullet hole next to his left foot. “I’m warning you!”

 

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Jamie’s first year at Brooksfield Secondary wasn’t so bad. His mother had stayed sober that whole year, and the year before, she had started drinking five years before he began at that school, his father had died in a traffic accident. Jamie’s first year was a new start. He had a few new friends, but there were a couple of bullies, but there always was going to be. He was top of English, Maths, Science and French, but bottom for PE, which set him up with the outcasts; the fatties, nerds, dweebs and the downright ugly. Then in top set PE were the cocky little shits who thought they were above everyone because they could do a rainbow flick in football, or a spear tackle in rugby. But this wasn’t uncommon for first years.

Year 8, however got a little worse, he had dropped some sets in maths and science, still remained in bottom for PE. His friends seemed to slowly fall off of him and onto others and his bullies seemed to have brought along some other pricks to tease him with.

 

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The fire exits and normal entrances had been locked. Jamie was stood on the stage where his head of year, Mr Cartwright, and his head master, Mr Sexton had been standing a few minutes ago. They had scurried off stage to find help presumably. Harvey Gore was on his knees next to Jamie with his hands tied together with a zip tie. This was pleasuring for Jamie, watching one of the ‘big men’ bend at his will. Jamie couldn’t stand this shit of a human.

“What are you doing? Why are you doing this? What has anyone in this school ever done to you?” Harvey stuttered as he spewed shiny blood onto the stage. His nose was staining his white shirt. Hundreds of eyes were watching as the captain of the rugby team was at the submission of Jamie Hill, the school loner.

“What has this school ever done to me?” Jamie announced to the rest of the hall. “It has ruined me. It has deranged me! This place has sent me through mental exertion, changing my perspective on life. It may have occurred to you that I am some weak, little nobody, but you are wrong. My mind has been deeply fuelled by this moment. And now it’s my turn to lash out back onto you!”

 

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Year 9 was where it hit hard for Jamie. Over the holiday in between his last year and year 9, everyone had grown bigger and stronger than him. And his cruelty had turned physical, as well as the names and rumours. His mother had kept clean from the drinks for almost seven years. It was only when Jamie had gotten hit by a car walking home from school, two days before the winter holidays that she had relapsed. He had nine stitches in his head and a broken right leg. She refused any help, and started to get abusive towards her own son.

The kids at school would make fun of him for the way his mother looked. Overweight, drunken and a mess. This didn’t do Jamie any favours.

He wondered if going to Brooksfield was such a good idea back in his first year. Brooksfield had an infamous reputation for three men and one woman. Bearing in mind this school is a perfectly normal school. However this school was special, for breeding Jimmy Gregson, Alex Gammon, Kelly Wood and Michael Rowe, four killers each responsible for over half a dozen murders. This school had said to have created these killers. Maybe they were making room for one more.

It was only in this school year that he gradually started to comprehend his fellow primates. He had started studying the girls in his year too, how the suburban girl would rebel to seem different, even though she was just like every other suburban girl rebelling.

She would finish school just to find herself with a white collar husband, eventually turning into the parents she 'resented', raising two little shits of kids, just like her. So the cycle repeats.

This exercise of studying his primates would drain him, but he loved it, understanding the way these mammals behaved. These were creatures of a rare kind. He was shit to them. But he now realised what drove them forward in life, which in turn, drove him.

 

 

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“I’ve watched all of you fine specimens for a long time. And I’ve grown around you all. Now I know what drives you all through your daily lives!” Jamie yells this out to the crowd piled up in front of him. Sweating. Hyperventilating. Tugging on Harvey’s thick, long hair Jamie announces, “You strive on naming all the Kardashians and winning the district finals in rugby and wearing push up bras and buying shitty little trainers you buy at one hundred-and-twenty-pounds just to show off to your mates!” Jamie’s grip on Harvey’s hair tightened, pulling up on his scalp as his voice raised. Harvey squealed.

Before Harvey could even comprehend it, the barrel of the gun pushed against his temple. His bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as a tear trickled down his face from each eye. “But I’ve had enough!” Some faces in the crowd had turned pale, knowing that they had set out against him in the corridors and playgrounds, they knew what they had done, and now the tables had flipped straight onto them. Scared shitless, they recapped on their wrongs.

“I’m sorry!” Harvey cried! “Just let me go, I beg you!” more fresh blood dripped onto the drying liquid from before.

“You had your chance to be sorry,” Jamie whispered sinisterly into Harvey’s ear, “You had your chance to stop!” He sprung up, chanting to the hall, tearing out some of Harvey’s hair. Harvey whimpered. Like a ‘little bitch’, one of Harvey’s favourite names to call Jamie. “I don’t think any of you will stop any way. You’ll fall of me and leech onto someone else, draining them to the core, until nothing is left, apart from darkness. And you’ve become numb to it. You’ve done it for so long that the actions and words you take out on others become a sub conscious act, as if it were mandatory,”

The breaking of moral code would slowly grind a man into an agent of chaos. This was a perfect example.

 

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It was entering his fourth year at Brooksfield that all the pieces started to fall together, if you had won at school, you had lost at life. By the end of his third year kids were smoking weed, drinking vodka, having oral sex, sharing pictures of each other on the internet; setting them up for the sex offenders list and prison sentences. All these things meant you were successful at school, and you guessed it, these are the kids still stuck in primary school thinking that they were going to be something special one day. Yes they had bodies of fifteen year olds, but they had the brains of ten year olds, which to them, meant they had the best of both worlds.

These people in school wouldn’t be hard to find. The sluts, the cocky shits and the class fucks. No one could have a lesson without at least one of these three specimens including one of their little antics. It was only when they joined forces that a lesson would abruptly stop and occasionally make a teacher cry, poor Mrs Horngrove.

Jamie continued to grasp an understanding of those around him. They had slowly dived into those three groups, before they were just a big mash. Jamie was intrigued, indulged by their nature. Despite the abuse he would receive everyday he wanted to study for this moment.

Those three groups looked down on him like he was dirt on the ground, he was the leper from year ten. The official loner. Constantly alone, group projects wouldn’t compute with him.

His mother’s alcohol problems continued to worsen, every child needed a mother, this, he was not getting from her. She was pushing Jamie further to the edge. He was on top of a cliff, just a few metres away from the edge, and he was nearing every second. It was then, when he had almost reached his limit of abuse that composed the theory of dead end evolution. He considered everyone around him to be evolutionary dead ends, only happy by their physical achievements and how much money they can make.

It was when Jamie’s mind was sliding to the dark that he knew that only minds like his continue through to the next day.

 

 

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Sirens were ringing outside the two fire exits. Jamie could hear the bleak noise of police planning a way to enter without causing any arm, or without making a scene, they needed to keep the situation calm. The sound of sirens had put some of the crowd in slight relief, but not enough to take them out of this moment.

“So here we are! The end of the road!” Jamie walked to the back of Harvey, “This however is only the start for you!”

It’s a wonder how someone can gain so much power from years of pressurised enragement. Jamie kept above it though, and he was controlling in that in the hall. From five years of containment, he learnt how to supress it all.

He could be screaming around the hall turning it into a blood bath, staining the new green chairs crimson, executing a mass murder. But he’s controlled it. And it wouldn’t be soon before he could release it.

They may not have been receiving the same punishment as Harvey, but this was going to stick with them. This moment in time will drive them into the ground. Jamie’s confrontation would have enforced so much guilt into them that their lives would no longer be lives. Just animals, naming all the Kardashian family members.

For five years this little leper’s life has been unliveable, getting worse every day. And all the little leper wanted was to get fair. But to give something back to the people who had made his life a living hell, he had to be unfair to get fair.

Harvey had been stamped to the floor. The sprawl of police officers had gotten closer. When Jamie took a moment to look around, Harvey took the opportunity to unleash his short temper. No wonder he was captain of the rugby team.

A short growl from Harvey followed a kick attacking Jamie’s ankle. Jamie’s berretta was already pointing at Harvey’s head before Jamie turned to him. Harvey then had realised his fateful mistake. “Breath in through your nose and out your mouth. This will be quick,” Jamie’s sweaty index curled round the trigger, sweat dripped down onto Harvey’s blazer.

The trigger was pulled. His audience screamed. But it was all silent for Jamie as a subtle smile lit on his face. Finally, he had served what the rest of his year deserved.

A thick pool of blood expanded around Harvey’s open head. The pool moved in every direction, under Jamie’s shoe and sliding of the edge of the stage.

Hundreds of students calling for help, but still, it was silent for Jamie. A moment of bliss, fulfilment. His mind was free. The pressure was released.

He only needed to take one life to scar hundreds of others. And that was his goal. Scar their lives, so they will remember this day until they die. Until the guilt kills them.

Jamie shifted the weight of his problems back onto the ones that had caused it in the first place.

Jamie’s anger and self-doubt had been compressed for five years, slowly building, his mental stability slicing away bit by bit. Nothing could compete with his rage, his resentment, his malevolent mind. This school had bred a killer. Again.

Jamie left in the arms of law enforcement, but he didn’t care. His work was done. He walked away, drying blood dispersed all over his grotty clothes. His shoes left crimson footprints behind him.

And Jamie couldn’t have been happier.

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Tom Smith. All rights reserved.

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