Stepping Out

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 05, 2017

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Submitted: December 05, 2017



I played one note after another, gaining more and more pace as time went on. I was alone, yet I felt like I was with a room of people, performing for them. If only. When I had to leave my sanctuary, reality began. The school bell rang, signalling the start of the day. I peeked beyond the door and saw masses of school students, all rushing to their next class. It wasn’t a crowd I wanted to be in. I preferred seclusion.


I closed myself off in class, finishing my work but remaining silent throughout.  I sat at the back of the classroom, as always, as far away as possible from everyone. I was almost invisible. Almost. Maybe if I didn’t speak, they wouldn't see me. I could only hope, but class soon finished and I had to find a place to hide from the predators and hope they would choose another target. I ducked behind the door nearest to the lockers and hid.


I could only see through the shutters of the door, half of my vision covered by these horizontal lines, yet, I could still make out the happenings outside. It was like a two way mirror, where I was hidden from all sight. I felt relatively safe, as I could see but not be seen. I observed from my vantage point the nature of humans. I always felt the need to hide when I didn’t want to come face to face with the outside world. I was different. I didn’t understand feelings or emotions like they did. Maybe if I were like them, I would come to understand why they treated me the way they did.


My eyes attracted to the sound at the end of the hallway. I could see a young boy huddled up in a corner with other boys, bigger and stronger,  surrounding him like a pack of wolves. To me, this scene was a repeated recording. Looking at this poor boy took me back to my own troubled past. I could remember cowering exactly as he was, in the same situation. I could remember being terrified. Scared. Lonely. Hunted.


He was being taunted, poked at, his books and bags strewn across the floor. His eyes widened in sadness and fear, tears streaming down his face, his head bowed in shame. The ones around him had a look of both spite and horrific pride. They towered over him, showing their strength and power. Was this how it had looked to others that had so often just walked past my troubles, looking away and moving silently past? These questions and thoughts rushed through my mind. It had always baffled me that nothing was ever done in scenes like this one. Everyone continued walking, speeding up in their commute as the scene unravelled as if they were scared of being the victims themselves. Those who ignored what was happening before them remained steely, with no sign of regret or remorse. There was a certain look on each of the passers-by, a look that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Why weren’t they stepping in to help the boy? Although I could understand their fear, I knew that I despised what was happening. Did they not understand the consequences of ignoring such situations. Look at me. I had these bullies to thank for my present personality. They were the ones who made me the isolated “freak” I was. I couldn’t bear to think that someone else would have to go through this. These people had broken down the walls of my confidence. Confidence that I had worked so hard to build. I was nothing compared to them and felt like it would never change. The whole world seemed to be against me, for no known reason.

I closed my eyes, wishing and hoping that what was happening in front of me would disappear, knowing is my heart that wasn’t possible. I sneaked a glance back and indeed there they were.


I knew I had to try. Though no one had ever tried to help me. I remembered all the times I wanted somebody to step in, brave enough to free me from my situation. On the on hand, I tried to build up my courage, to help this person in need. But the other half of me thought differently. The consequences of standing up to these bullies could come crashing down upon me. They could shift their focus back to me, and things would go back to the way they had started. My plan could horribly backfire. Could I possibly challenge these bullies and face the likely consequences?


I wondered if my courage would fail me as I slowly opened the door.


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