Our Razorblade Symphony - Bullies and Punishment.
Ashley and I turned around, fear jerking through me and I felt like my life was flashing right before my eyes, just as it had done many times before. The jock boy, needless to say was a whole lot taller then the both of us combined bore his weight down on our shoulders, he was one of those overly-muscular guys who was probably on steroids. Stubble covered his face, an evil grin on his lips. His buddies cornered us against the wall, all wearing the same clothes: jock jackets and blue jeans. Ashley cowered into my side.
The jocks crossed their arms, laughing at us. Huddled together and freaked the fuck out. One of them spit on the ground in front of us and laughed when I jumped out of the way.
"Not so tough now, are yah?" he gruffed, looking happily at me.
"What?" I've never been tough...
"He doesn't remember! I'll be damned." one of the others said.
"What are oyu guys talking about?" Ashley demanded.
"Little dark-n-pale here tried to be tough guy with us a little while back, remember?" he said.
Now I remember. He's talking about the time I punched the both of them. That day was awesome.
I'm pretty sure it was mentioned already, but I was having a shitty day. Ashley was hurt, Pete was a jackass to me the night before and hit me till I bruised. On top of that everyone picked on me non stop, exept for Ashley. When those two jocks (I reconize them now) pushed my head into a water fountian I snapped, punching both of them in the face then realizing what I had done, ran off into the bathroom. You get the point. Now they wanted revenge...
"So I defended myself. Is that a problem?" I said in the bravest tone I could manage.
"For us, yeah." one of the other's replied, cracking his knuckles.
I swallowed, looking down at Ashley. He clung to me like a little kid, and right now he looked like one. Fear gripping the both of us tightly.
"M-make it quick." Ashley said.
They looked at eachother, grinning slightly. Sending some kind of mental messages to eachother. Kind of like what Ashley and I do sometimes, only they were more evil. A lot more evil, wicked, and unfriendly. They cracked hteir knuckles again, reaching for us. One grabbed Ashley the other two grabbed me by both arms, throwing me on the ground.
My head bounced off the floor. Little blotches of light poped in front of my vision as i felt someone hold me down.
My eyes darted over to Ashley, he was restrained by the biggest of them. We struggled slightly but was forced to watch helplessly. Feet began to pummel my sides, sinking in my ribs hard, making me jerk back in agony. I covered my face with my hands.
"Andy!" Ashley yelled, still struggling.
His scream was cut off by a thud, the jock had slammed him against the wall and covered his mouth. This wasn't normal, they were going to kill us.
"Help!" I finally screamed at the top of my lungs, which earned me a kick to the jaw that probably sent my wisdom teeth back a year.
"You really think anyone can hear you?" one of them yelled, pressing his foot down on my chest. I gasped for air, shaking my head.
One of them let out a laugh, giving eachother a friendly punch in the arm. I tried to puch his foot off my chest, but the other just kicked me in the neck. I gasped for air, my vision went blurry...
then his foot was off of my chest, only to be stamped down on my arm. I let out another cry of pain and tried ot squirm away, but the pain from my cuts restrained me along with the pain of 200+ pounds on my limb.
"Gimmie the switch." the one holding me down said to the other.
The other kid reached into his pocket, taking out and handing it to the one holding me down. He flicked it open...
Every memory of cutting, abuse, bullying came back to me at that very moment. When I stared death right in the face. Sitting in the basement with a piece of broken glass, sliding it across my arms and licking up the blood that ran down from each cut. Pete beating me for the first time because he found out I had kissed Matt on the playground then hitting Mom when she tried to stop him. The laughing, pointing, pushing, shoving, everything bad that had ever happened to me I saw inside my head as he pulled his fist back, clenching the knife in it and started to bring it down.
"Andy!" Ashley screamed again.
I squeezed shut my eyes, praying I would die quickly, but the pain never came. The weight was lifted off of me, more like flung. I opened my eyes to see the jock sliding across the tile floor, the knife clattering somewhere off in the hallway. Roughly 4 people were fighting off our assaulters, the shortest of the few whacking them with a pair of drumsticks.
I looked over to Ashley who was standing paralyzed by the wall, watching our heroes beat and chase off them.
"Freaks are fucking insane!" one shouted, running as fast as he could along with his buddies. Speak for yourself, homicidal lunatic.
I heard CC's laugh and recognized him right away, the other three I'd only seen around school. The girl with the drumsticks held out her hand to help me up while one of the others, Jake (See, I remember names!) helped up Ashley.
"Thanks." I grunted, getting to my feet.
Ashley threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I hugged back, burying my head in his shoulder. He was so warm and comforting...
"Its a Kodak moment." CC giggled, elbowing Jake. Drumstick Girl smacked him.
Ashley and I broke off our hug, blushing slightly. "Sorry."
"Its alright. Cake here has romance moments so much they could make a sequil to Brokeback Mountian if they were cowboys."
"Yee-haw motherfucker." Jake said, putting his arm around CC's waist.
"So, who are you guys exactly?" I asked, looking at Drumstick Girl and the other kid who hasn't talked yet.
"I'm Jinxx." he said.
"Sandra." drumstick girl said.
"Nice to meet you." I said politely.
Sandra nodded sweetly, looked back at Jinxx, CC and Jake.
The bell had long since rung and we were probably counted truant. We all walked together down to the 8th grade hallway, laughing and making jokes with eachother.
"...and thats why I'm not allowed in the church anymore." CC said, grinning evilly.
Sandra dropped away from the group and entered her classroom, waving at the rest of us. Soon the rest followed, entering their each individual classroom until it was only me and Ashley left.
We had the next class together, so we walked in together. The teacher gave us a dirty look as we went to our seats on almost opposite sides of the room. I dropped my bag on the floor and sat leaning on my elbow, looking over at Ash every so ofton.
And Every time, he looked back.
We couldn't find CC, Jake, Sandra or Jinxx anywhere after school. I assumed Sandra was in the school band and everyone else was just off doing their own thing. Ashley and I walked home together.
"I was thinking." Ashley said, playing with the straps of his backpack. "Maybe we could have like, a weekend long stay."
"Friday, saturday sunday?" I said, stopping outside my house.
"Yeah." he said. "Auntie always gets pizza and shit on saturday night."
"Sounds good." I didn't like pizza. "Friday?"
"Friday." he nodded.
I smiled and side hugged him, messing up the side of his head on purpose. He giggled, ducking out from under my arm and skipping across the street. I waved happily then turned to walk up my front step.
Mom must've planted flowers. The small pink and purple plants swayed in the breeze, turning their faces to me. Mom gardens when shes boerd or stressed, once she planted a handful of clover seeds in the middle of winter. Pete usually would step on them or not water them, sometimes he made me do it. I brushed the petals lightly with my fingers before opening the door.
Mom was asleep on the couch, her blonde hair in messy curls and the blanket completely wrapping her body. I smiled, Mom hasn't slept that much lately since her new job made her stay overtime and Pete always wanted her. Its creepy to think about that.
I crept past her quietly and went up to the kitchen, dropping down my bag and opening the refrigerator. A pack of hotdogs, some expired milk and a box of bud light were the only things in there that wasn't a kind of salad dressing or leftover wrapped in tin. I sighed and closed it, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and filling it with cold water.
I heard the stairs shake as Pete thundered down them. He turned the corner an stopped, looking at me. He wore his usual slob clothing, white wifebeater (more like step son beater) plaid boxers and a cross necklace, though I'm pretty sure he didn't even know who God was. He crossed his arms and gave me a look.
"Where were you?" he said.
"At school." I said, placing my cup in the sink.
"Dumbass I was talking about when you ran away." he ruffed, scratching his stubble beard. "Your mother was upset."
"Sorry Dad." I looked down shamefully, but mostly out of fear.
He scoffed. "I was going to have some fun with you."
Fun? Beating a child is considered fun? I tried not so talk back, talking back usually resaulted in a night in the basement. I kept my eyes on the ground, clenching my jaw.
"My belt is upstairs. Now get." he kicked my left leg with his fat foot. i stumbled slightly, catching myself on the fridge door handle. Pete grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs. As we went up I saw Mom's eyes open then look fearfully up at me.
He shoved me into the master bedroom, I stumbled again and fell against the bed. So many blood spots and semen stains spotted the sheets, making it look like a horror murder rape scene. Pete went to the small walk in closet and took out his cow skin belt, securing it tightly in his grip.
"one for crying, and others for running." he said, holding it across his giant belly. "Get on the bed."
I felt bile raise in my throat as I slowly crawled onto the filthy bed, trying not to put my hand down on any fresh semen marks. He pulled my knees stright, causing me to fall onto my stomach then pulled up the back of my shirt. I shivered at the sudden coolness on my back. He raised the belt above his head, bringing it down hard across my back. I screeched in pain, jerking backwards and accidently rolling onto my side. He harshly pushed me back onto my stomach and repeated at least three more times, swinging his arm back and forth. I screamed every time, clutching the bedsheet so hard my knuckles turned white. He let out a laugh and pulled own my shirt again.
"A-are you done?" I whimpered in pain, trying to get up.
He slammed his hand down hard onto my back so I fell onto the bed again. "I'm not done!"
What else could he possibly do? He's already beaten me bruised and made me lie down in this desgusting, bloody, cum covered bed...
"Face me." he grumbled.
I rolled onto my back and sat up painfully, looking up at him. He gave me the most wickedest, evilest grin I will ever see in my life. Like seeing the face of Satan himself standing in front of me. Hellish eyes squited because the grin was so big and toothie...
"Open your mouth all the way." he said, fingering my lips. Totally confused, I opened my mouth widely, my tongue curled up a little bit.
"Good boy. Keep it like that." he said, taking his fingers out of my mouth. "Close your eyes."
I obeyed, squeezing shut my eyes. What the hell was he doing?
I heard fabric slide against skin. He put his fingers on the inside of my cheeks again, prying open my mouth. I dared a peek just as he shoved himself into my mouth.
I jerked back and gaged, spitting onto the bed. He pulled me back up but i struggled. "NO!" I screamed "MOMMY! MOM HELP!"
"Shout up you!" he slapped me across the face "Or I'll lock you in the basement for five months."
He wasn't kidding. Once he locked me down there for a week. I almost starved. "You can't! I'm your stepson!"
"I don't give a shit what you are, get back here!" he forced me into the sitting position, gripping my jaw and forcing it open. One hand holding my chin and one holding open the top part of my mouth, his fingers on the row of top teeth I had and his pinkie finger sliped inside of my nostril. I tried to turn away but he was holding so tight it could break my teeth.
He thrust in again, pushing all the way in until I gagged, sending a line of drool down the corner of my mouth. He smirked, pulling out and repeating.
I don't know how long it was, it felt like hours. He let go of my mouth and held the sides of my head, moving to his pleasure. Tears burned my eyes as he clenches his fists, pulling balls of my hair and ripping out a few strands. I just wanted it to be over.
"Tighten your lips." he grunted, stopping half way in. I closed my lips as he told me to, making sure not to bite. He went back to face-raping me, forcing my head deeper and deeper untill his pubic hair tickled my nose. I felt the tears streaming down my face and every so often I gaged and gasped for air. He slapped me across the face for it.
When he was done he closed my mouth, making me swallow. I had to, its not like I could hide it under my tongue. It stuck to my teeth and left a nasty taste on my tongue.
"Get out of my sight, you freak." he spat at me, pointing at the door. I nodded silently, getting out of there as quickly as I could.
I first went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, puking my guts until I was sure every bit of it was out of my mouth. I welcomed the acid taste, it was better then the cum taste. I washed my face off and brushed my teeth, then threw my toothbrush in the trashcan. It was contaminated now, I'm not using it again. I vomited another time then locked myself in my room, breaking down into uncontrollable tears.
"I should'nt have left." i sobbed to myself, snot dripping down my lip "I'm a retard..."
I looked down at my arm. The glove was pulled down to the middle of my forearm and wet from the water. I peeled it off and threw it at the wall where it made a loud plop and fell onto the shelf. I opened the tiny bag that lay between my bed and the wall. It mostly contained marbles, but in the bottom of the bag was the blade I use.
I opened the bag and dumped out its contents, the marbles clacked and bunched together, rolling down by my feet. I looked at the picture of Ashley that I had tucked in there as a reminder not to cut. I tossed it in the pile of marbles and fished out the razorblade.
It was small and sharp, triangular blade with the code X-ACTO 11 on the side. It was a little rusty too, but not on the cutting part. I pushed the razor to my skin, slowly sliding it across my arm in an underline. Above it I wrote in little quick dashes the letters F A G and E M O.
"Thats all you are, punk." I told myself, carving W E A K as well. "Weak, emo little fag."
Some cuts bled more then others, but they all scabbed over like normal. I pulled the blanket over my head, causing the marbles to spill onto the floor and roll in all directions.
I. Did. Not. Care.