Story #11: An Unexpressed Love

An Unexpressed Love

     Waking up, I wondered why I was even alive. Never have I woken up feeling this

bad about myself. Why did high school life have to be so complicated for a teenage

boy?

     Going to school was seriously hell on earth for me. Of course, I know a lot of

teenagers are going to complain about what goes on during their every day life. But for

them, they get to go home to a nice family, with friends to talk to, and average lives. At

least that’s how I assume it goes. But if I’ve learned anything from my acting skills at

school, the same thing could be going on with someone I see on a daily basis, and

they could be just as good of a liar.

     But for me, Percy Backer, it didn’t matter if I was at school, or at home, I was always

getting picked on.

     As I got out of bed, I looked into the mirror across my tiny, beat up bedroom, that

barely has room for my bed. In the mirror, I see a reflection I have grown to recognize,

but not as my own. What I see in the mirror is a tall, somewhat buff teenage boy, with

shining blue eyes, and hair the color of hay. With the way the cheekbones are sharp,

and the size of the nose, most people would probably consider him attractive. But

that’s not how I see myself.

     The person in the reflection is just a meat suit. Other people see it when they walk

by, but they don’t actually see who I am. Inside I am like a black hole. My feelings get

sucked away, and will never return again.

I decided now was as good a time as any to get ready for school. It only takes a few

minutes of course, because all I have to do is get dressed, and I just grab some

poptarts for the walk to school.

     While walking to school, I stop in front of the gas station, where I always do, to wait

for Tessa. She wasn’t there yet. Of course. The girl was always late.

I walk over to my usual bench to wait. As I sit, I feel arms go around my neck, and

as I’m about to resist, and fight back, words are whispered in my ear in a very evil

voice. “Give me all your money, punk.”

     Of course, I don’t react. I know that voice all to well. “Tessa! Late, as always. What

is that, a week in a row? I think you’re going for a record.”

“Oh hush, I got here at almost the same time you did today. And how else do you

think I’m going to look this fabulous? This doesn’t come naturally.” She says, gesturing

to her outfit which consisted of a purple tank top, with a black skirt, and biker boots,

that matched her black hair with it’s purple streak that made her blue eyes, that were

heavily lined with black eyeliner, pop.

     “Girl, you’re fabulous with or without that makeup on. You don’t need it to make you

beautiful.” I say sarcastically. Of course, she would never know that I spoke every bit of

it the truth.

     “Oh, now you just sound like you should be a song writer. Go write for One Direction

or something. They might enjoy some of that cheesy-ness. Hey, we’re gonna be late!”

Tessa yells the last part as she looks down at her watch and starts running towards the

school two blocks away.

     Today was a horrible day, with guys in the locker room teasing me, calling me gay,

and other names that I really don’t appreciate, and the teachers calling me out on

everything in class, especially my spanish teacher, who decided it was a good day to

make me go up to the board by myself, and go over material I wasn’t there to learn.

And, having to walk along side the girl I’ve been desperately in love since she

moved here in third grade. That can usually get to someone. Tessa was my best friend

though. How could I ever possibly have a relationship with her? I’m pretty sure I’ve

been friend-zoned hardcore. I could never tell her how I feel.

     During third hour English class, Tessa had told me there was something she wanted

to talk to me about on the way home. So, like usual, I waited for her outside of the

school, except this time with a little more anticipation. Usually she doesn’t say if she

needs to talk about something. She just comes out and says it.

     It took her a few minutes to come out, but when she did, she ran out, and told me

how something came up with the newspaper, and there was some last minute pictures

she needed to take. I told her it was fine, of course. So I walked home on my own.

Walking by myself was something I wasn’t used to. Tessa was usually always with

me. It was fine until I got to Main Street, where a few boys from school were sitting.

They’re always there, of course, but they never bother me when I’m with Tessa,

because believe it or not, they’re scared of her.

     From a distance, I could see them looking my way, and pointing fingers my way, and

you could tell by the gestures, that they were make cruel jokes and comments. I tried

to walk a little faster the closer I got, but I didn’t want to make my discomfort to

noticeable.

     When I got a few houses away, the guys started getting up and walking my way.

They were definitely guys from my school. They were the jocks. The one’s that could

beat the snot out of anyone. And from the looks on their faces, I was that anyone today.

They walked up to me, and started yelling things like, “Hey, loser, come out to play?”

or “Who said you were invited to walk here, gay boy?”

     With these, I decided it was a good time to start walking noticeably fast. Better to

look like a coward than to be dead.

     This only seemed to make them happier. The started yelling things out with more

triumph now, knowing that they were scaring me, and that I was the pray, and I knew it.

The boys starting making their way toward me, in a circle, so I had nowhere to run.

The biggest one grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me toward him, and pushed me

towards his friend across the circle. And I got passed on yet again. And again. And

again. This went on as they laughed and made more cruel jokes for a few minutes.

Then, it stopped. It all just stopped. They all just looked at me, and stared, waiting for

something to happen. Like I was, waiting for the next move. But unlike them, I didn’t

know where the next move would be coming from.

     Then, I feel the sharp pain in my back, as a knee goes into it, and as I go down, I get

a kick in the stomach, causing me to double over and lie on the ground. They seemed

to enjoy this. Kick him while he’s down they all said. And they did. Kick after kick,

whether it be in the face, the stomach, or the back, it was there. Over and over. All

different directions. I didn’t think it’d stop. And like before, it did. But this time, when it

did, all the guys just left.

     So I just lay there. Waiting for something, I knew would never happen. Waiting for

maybe someone to come along, and help me up, take me to the hospital, or for anyone

to even acknowledge my existence. And like always, it never did and they never did.

After an hour or so of just staring up at the blue sky, with not a cloud in sight, I

decided I might as well get up. And yet, I didn’t want to. What was the point anymore?

Who was there in this world that actually cared? My parents wouldn’t notice all of the

bruises. And if they did, they wouldn’t say anything, or acknowledge them. They

wouldn’t care. They’re to absorbed in their liquor and reality t.v. to notice their only

child.

     So, I lay there even longer. And then I finally decided maybe it was time to get up.

Because, it really was time to end it all. It was time for someone to actually notice him,

the person inside. And maybe, just maybe, life would get a little easier for other people.

Walking into the beat up, old house that has been my home for many long years, I

realized that it’s never really been a home. It’s just been a place to sleep. A place to go

home to. I’ve never really had a place that’s mine.

     Walking into my parent’s bedroom, I head straight for the gun case that’s in the back

of the closet. I grabbed the smallest gun I can, because it’ll be the easiest for me to

handle. I’ve never been good with weapons.

     Clicking three bullets into the chamber, and walking into the living room, where my

parents are watching their nightly dose of bad television. I point the gun at my dad first,

because he’s always had a bad temper towards my mother, and shoot him. And then

my mother, who always let my father lay a hand on her, and then went back to him the

next day. And then, she was dead. Both my parents lay dead next to each other on the

couch. Just like I knew they always would.

     Now, I walk into my bedroom, sit on the bed, and take a deep breath. Then I put the

gun up to my head, pull the trigger and fall back into darkness.

Dear Whomever is reading this letter,

     I know it was probably hard on you, walking into my room, finding my body the way

it is. Slaughtered. Tortured. It must look like a crazed animal got ahold of me. And

you’re right. An animal did get ahold of me. But it was myself. I was an animal. And it

finally got the best of me.

     Losing my love really made me realize there’s nothing else in this world worth living

for. My love was never truly known, and yet, with death, you never really know how

much you truly love someone, until they’re gone.

     And now, writing this letter, I want to make it clear why I’m doing this. Today I

walked into your bedroom, about to apologize for not being able to talk earlier, but

about to confess my undying love for you. And what I found broke my heart more than

anything else could. Your body, with a bullet hole in the head. With a gun beside you.

And that’s when I knew. I knew I would have never been able to save you. I saw it with

the bruises on your face. They had gotten you, when I couldn’t be there, at your side,

to protect you. And for that, I am truly sorry. So, the only way I can think to repay you,

Percy, is to join you. See you in heaven my darling.

     Love forever,

     Tessa