Stumbling into a public restroom in a near by park, not to far from his school. Unable to come to a complete stand, Davey slumps himself over the rim of the sink. Twisting the right knob of the faucet, it releases a choppy flow of warm water. He cups his shaky hands together, trying to catch as much of the warm tranquilizing liquid as he can. He splashes what he can onto his bruised aching face-to sooth his pains. The blood that runs from his nose and upper right brow mixes with the clearances of the water tinting it pink. A slight sensations of pain dominate his left side and the stinging of exposed raw skin on his right. He was more banged up than he had thought. Collectively his body throbbed with discomfort. Yet, this was a feeling that he was too familiar with. This feeling, brought only by the brute of another, was all too familiar.

Throughout his numb state he couldn't get over his own stupidity. "Why did I choose to take the long way home, why?" He should of known better he thought. Wiping his face with paper towels he glared into the frosty eyes that glared back at him. They were mocking him, laughing at the way he so desperately waited for the school bell to ring. How fast he ran out the class door. What a coward. How foolishly he thought that he could run away. So pathetic. But mostly, those cold dark eyes mocked him on how quickly the strings of his relief where easily severed by the scissors of despair, upon sight of his aggressors. Such a chump. The more he peered into the eyes of the frosty reflection the more it mocked him.

In the recesses of his mind he recollected the events take took place that day, like every other day. He Remembered how the three pricks surrounded him. Mark, the big one of the bunch, tugged on his jacket and forcefully escorted him to the white shed just behind the school. Once the doors closed behind him this became Davey's earthly realm Hell, where his torment seemed boundless. They swore in his face, calling him things like; "garbage" "prick" "little bitch" "punk" "dickless" "worthless" there where no limits. Davey did what he had done this whole year, nothing. Not one word not one twitch. Thrown to the ground the three boys; Bobby, Mark, and Damon began their year long routine. They plumbed him brutally with their fist. Fist that became stained with Davey's own blood. Mark, the tallest one of the three was also the strongest, planted a solid kick to Davey's stomach; that caused him to curl up into a ball. He wanted to throw up. Over time, he that had learned that squirming only fueled their beatings, so he kept quiet and still. More kicks and more punches followed. It seemed as though hours went by. Finally it all stopped when Bobby, a chubby fellow, stood over Davey and unzipped his loons and doused him with his urine. The three boys got a tremendous kick out of all this and roared with laughter. They clenched their guts tightly from laughing to hard, his humiliation was almost unbearable. Playing possum, Davey remained still until he could faintly hear the voices of the three guys. When he was convinced they where far enough away he arose and wobbled his way down the hill.

Davey could never figure out why he was their "person-of-choose" of their attacks and he dared not ask. Fearing that it would only make thing worst. Tho his grades had been slipping and school his absents had sky-rocketed his teacher never question him. Rinsing and ringing out his shirt he slips the damp shirt over his head and heads home. It must of been 7 o'clock.

Runaway tires, rusted car parts, and beer cans littered the yard outside his dad's trailer. Giving it more of a junk yard appearance than a home appearance. The windows of the trailer where pitch black implying that no one was home. Of course not, why would anyone be? Davey lived alone, well it seemed that way. Being a single child with a decease mother (she died when he was five) he live with his father who rarely came home. When he did he wouldn't say much and didn't stay long. Pushing open the vinyl door he could hear the parade of clacking beers bottles hitting each other behind the door-he hadn't cleaned in awhile. Before heading to his room he takes a shower then makes his way to the kitchen's fridge. Opening the fridge, he grabs, and pops open a Keystone Light.

His room matched him perfectly. Inside where dark-green painted walls, black bed sheets , and posters of bands he enjoyed covered the walls. Knocking back the cold beer he goes to his desk and takes out his favorite CD, Sammy Hagar's; "I Never Said Goodbye". Placing the CD into the CD panel he presses play. Out of all the song on the album, he favored "Where Eagles Fly" the most. Nothing made him feel more free from this world than this song. Swaying to the steady beat of the song made life worth existing. Gulping the last bit of his beer he tosses the the now empty tin to the floor. Falling back on to his bed he stares up at the ceiling with a sort of awe. As if something truly amazing was happening up there. Laying on his back, he begins to chuckle at his own thought. Who would of guessed something so sinister could be so funny. This chuckle signaled that his mind had been made; he was going to go through with it. Who could of image that something so sinister could be so amusing. If only someone had intervened what was bond to take place in the upcoming hours could of been avoid. Closing his eyes, the loud music had became less and less noticeable. He began to drift; he was tired.

The sounding of the alarm awoke Davey the next day. Turning down the music that had been playing all night he stretches out across his bed and hits the showers. He then gets dress, swallows down some cereal, and heads to his dad's room. Davey knew where he hid it. Laying flat on his belly he crawls under his dad's bed and brings out with him a black metal box. Lifting up the lid, he is greeted by some "Hustler" magazines. Underneath the alluring pages of thick exotic women was something even more alluring. A TT-.33 Semi-Automatic Pistol and beside it, 17 rounds. Eight of which he loaded into the chamber of the gun. Standing up he takes the safety off the gun and tucks it in the waist of his pants. Pulling down his long red shirt he make sure he covers it. He then grabs his bag, turn-off all the lights, and leaves for school.

Stepping onto the school's campus flooded Davey's mind with paranoia. Could he really go through with this? At the sight of both Damon and Bobby finalized his decision. Sitting on a bench they where socializing with two girls-one of which was sitting in Damon's lap. Without thought Davey's hand grasps the gun; rage was controlling him now. Picking up his speed he darts in their direction. His stomach tightening, sweat trickling from his forehead, he felt his lips dried up, his heart pounding through his chest. His targets where only 32 feat away but, it felt like a life time. Bobby's eyes caught that of Davey's murderous gaze and the gun took aim at the spaces between Bobby's brows. The gun went off and Bobby fell dead. The sound of the gun created a new sound of terror. The court-yard fulled with madness. Changing his aim on Damon he fires another shot that went straight throw Damon's chest. Throughout the chaos a bullet was wasted. From the corner of his eye, Davey spots a lingering shadow (girl who was paralyzed with fear.) He panics and fires yet another shoot. A girl drops to the ground.

He soon enters the school, he knew the exact location of his final kill-the cafeteria. Those who hadn't caught wind of the attack where unaware of Davey's approach. He enter the cafeteria and with an eagle's eye spots Mark. Like an animal on the hunt, he wastes no time taking out his pray. Firing two shoots, a bullet lodged itself in Mark's neck. Blood shoots everywhere, covering the people in front of him with blood. Students scrabbled, taking shelter under tables. Feeling heroic one wide receiver of the school's football team sought to tackle the gun wielding boy but, that was a mistake. Another shoot fired. Another student dead.

Seizing the opportunity, Davey jets out the cafeteria door. Running down the hall and into the boy's restroom. Inside, he sees a pair of shoes standing in the fourth stall. Davey lands a sturdy kick to the door, sending the door flying inward and fires another shoot. Davey didn't know why he did it, he just did. Turning around and looking into the mirror behind him. The figure before him ceased to mock him. This time it was commending him on his accomplishments. Getting even with his tormentors. Gazing deeply into the eyes of the figure, he knew that their was one last thing had to be done. The last shoot was fired, clearing it's way perfectly through the head of the boy in the mirror. The gun dropped and the reflection vanished.

Impressum

Texte: Picture provide by BBC Mobile Written by Andrea J. Allen
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.06.2011

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