I haven't always been this way. I haven't always been cruel to all those who cross my path, to all those who meet my eyes. There once was a time when I could live through a day without cursing the Heavens and beating up and innocent child. After the dreadful event, the event of my mother's death my world spun out of control. The anger I held so deeply inside of me could only be released by witnessing the pain of others. I soon discovered that I could release even more anger if I was the one inflicting the pain.
I walk through the halls, as I do every day. An uneasy feeling has been building up in my gut all morning, and it is beginning to suffocate me. My eyesight is blurred. It's probably from the pot, or at least that is what I think. I watch as a teacher hollers to a child, who is simply getting a drink of water. I think, "How dreadfully mean," but then I realize I have done the same exact thing.
Deliberately I walk to the water fountain just to hear the shriek of the foolish instructor. I dip my lips into the steady stream of water, which tastes stale and warm. I hear her, I hear her loudly!
"Young man, young man!" I don't budge. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I look up, and allow my evil eye to burn straight through her. She looks taken back, and takes a deep breath. I make a ‘pssht' noise and walk in the other direction. She thinks I am stupid-that I can't still hear her talking. She is the idiotic one, for I can hear the words she whispers to anyone who would like to listen. She is criticizing me behind my back. I believe that this woman told us last weak not to do crap like that.
I see a kid, he is sitting on the ground, and tears are filling up in his pathetic eyes. Some of the suffocating feeling is released. I allow a small smile to form on my poor excuse of a face. I see that this boy's books are sprawled across the hallway, looking just as pathetic as him. I smash my foot into a notebook which sends it sailing down the hall, spewing paper out of its flaps.
The boy rises, he looks me in the eyes like I'm some sort of hellish creature forced to walk the Earth. I had never seen this is a person before, at least not directed toward to me. I held my fists in an intimidating way, taking in the challenge. He did not respond to my threatening gesture. "Bloody idiot," I think. Does he not know who I am? I should pummel him into the ground. No one ever messes around with Chris Jackson.
He reaches to the ground, lifting a black book, one that I recognize almost instantaneously, even though I had only seen it several times in my pathetic life. He passed it to me without warning, but fortunately I catch it.
"Follow," he says with a monotone voice. Obediently I follow him. I wonder where he is taking me, but dismiss the worry. He takes me to my locker. How he knew where it was is beyond me, but he motioned for me to open it. I complied, curious to know what this was all about.
He took the book from my hands, actually quite suddenly. He rested it carefully in my locker. What was the catch? I just ruined his notebook and he gives me this book. Is this it, is this all he is going to do? He motions for me to shut it.
"Look to this, my dear friend, the next time you feel so sin drowned come and read." He walks off and I now understand. I look at the closed locker door, and know that the Holy Bible was there. I took a step into my new personality, a personality driven by the power of God.
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