depressing - not done

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sad

Submitted: February 22, 2014

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Submitted: February 22, 2014

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He sat alone in his room, and watched the world fly by on the highway outside his window. He looked at each person’s face, and watched them laugh, cry, shout. Examined them all, living life to the fullest while he sat in his room, and let his mind wonder. Thinking about the miraculous nothingness that lay ahead of him. He thought his life was going nowhere fast. 

His young 16 year old naive self was beginning to see life as an hourglass. His life being the sand on the top, and everyone else’s as the sand rapidly collecting at the bottom; he thought of it as this- his life source, was dribbling, slowly but surely into other peoples until eventually, he would run out, and die. Whether by his own hands or another he wasn’t quite sure, but he know it would probably happen soon.

I mean, to him it had been building up for years. The divorce, the moving, school, simply the overall stress of it all. Somehow, he thought, the people in this town seemed to despise him even more than those from where he had come from. He had moved to escape their tyranny, and here he was, faced by more and more of their hatred. It’s almost as if god was plotting against him.

The worst of it all though? Was probably the realization that he had left no one behind. Seeing that, when most people moved there were tearful goodbyes, friendships that had lasted for years torn apart, and when he noticed that he hadn’t had to make that tearful goodbye, that last friendly hug, it broke him inside. Noticing that he never even really had a true friend, it hurt him, stabbed him, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Chester. Chester! Breakfast is ready!” Mr.Anderson his algebra 2 teacher arrogantly awakened him in the middle of class. Fuck. Oh shit. The words echoed throughout his mind as he rapidly tried to understand what Mr.Anderson had asked him. “Chester, Again, The point-slope form of 7Y-8X=3?” Chester glared at the classmates, desperate for an answer. Some sort of help. He had been caught up in the temporary bliss of ignorance when he should have been paying attention in class. One of his classmates leaned over and stealthily whispered to him “Y=1/4X+8!” Chester shouted the answer out, followed by a flock of laughter and ridicule from his classmates, as well as a stern look from his teachers face. Chester looked around and examined the eyes of the so-called friends that did this to him. All of them, mouth open like a hyena in the deep amazon. Aside from one, Rebecca.

She didn’t stand up for Chester, or even say anything, but it was clear she was sorry for what was happening to him; her eyes said it all. But regardless of the one kind, seemingly comforting person in this class, the look in the eyes of all of his other classmates was pure contempt at the fool that Chester had made of himself in front of the people he’d be forced to spend the next 159 days with. Then he looked over at Zach.

The person who caused all of this.

 The one who Chester blamed this temporary embarrassment on.

 Chester leaned over, and began to whisper into Zach’s ear, “The victor isn’t always the one with the fans on his side” Zach glanced at Chester, obviously befuddled by what it is he had just heard, and he didn’t even see Chester’s fist rapidly approaching towards him, going straight for his jaw. The punch connected, and Zach fell out of his desk. Zach stood up, blood starting to fall out of his broken jaw. He yelled at the top of his lungs and tackled Chester to the floor. He rapidly punched Chester. Punch, after punch, after punch.

Within mere seconds, a simple joke escalated into something much more than that. A bloody brawl on the floor of the classroom. The class was in practical riot, and Mr.Anderson was in complete disbelief as to what had happened. He didn’t think it was possible, much less within the first two weeks of school. He called security, and demanded they secure the two boys, security did as they were instructed, but mainly for Zach, Chester was in a ball on the floor, blood seeping out of his mouth onto the cold floor.

 

Zach woke up in a haze. He knew where he was the second he woke up, he was sitting in a chair. In Principle Harrison’s office. It didn’t take him long to figure out what had happened, with the bandage lined across his forehead, and him sitting here in the Principal’s office, he could guess easily enough. He’d gotten his ass handed to him. But at least he would miss school for a few days? Get to go home and be with his drunk mother. Oh joy. 

Chester's mother had pulled herself out of the shroud the alcohol poisoned her with. She hid behind her designer glasses and flashy clothes, her façade working wonderfully, no one suspecting for a split second, that she was insane. She managed to pull herself together, and act somewhat presentable in front of Principal Harrison, and ran through the lines pre-scripted in her head after the countless times she's had to perform them. \"Its a shame this situation occurred,\" \"I'll do my best in the home environment to ensure it won't ever happen again,\" and it was all complete bullshit. She couldn't care less what happened to Chester at school, just so long as she got another child support check to waste.


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