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“Why Do They Hate Me”

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“Blood, blood, blood, blood!” They
chant like mindless brutes or foreign savages. Spit flies from their lips like
poison and their faces look like devils, twisted and evil. What did I do? I
didn’t do anything. I didn’t need to do anything for them to treat me this way.
It is simply the act of human aggression against another for reasons unfair,
unjust, and unwarranted. My mouth makes violent impact with the ageing concrete
ground and a tooth or two flies from my mouth, leaving nothing but dark red
blood in its place. My heart explodes into fear and pain, panic is a result. My
eyes catch sight of my abuser for a second, but just before his huge, scarred
fist punches me square in the cheek. A see lightning as my eyes close and brace
for impact. The force was so strong that it causes me to bite a chunk of my
inner cheek off and spit blood and flesh onto the ghost white snow. My eyes
shut and tears rush as long as the Nile River. I can’t see a thing, but I can
feel the feet of people in my back and sides. Like a sword that doesn’t quite
penetrate my flesh, my tormenters make every effort to impale their feet into
me. Then, the stomping begins. I can tell that the first guy has help now,
because there’s no way I can be stomped and kicked at the same time in
different places by one person. As one foot makes contact on top of my head,
another does the same on my leg, and more feet continue to hack at my back and
sides. My arms feel shattered as they struggle to protect my swollen face. “Help! Help me please!” My voice is as unheard as God’s and
no one comes to my rescue. They all sit and laugh and call for more blood. A
brief cease in hitting occurs. I shake violently for
the thirty degree weather is affecting my wounds even more so now. A sudden
force tugs on my gray pullover, now gray and red however. The boy who had been
punching me before has clenched my bloody shirt with both of his hands, pulling
me to my feet. He then reveals a wooden carved pocket knife. I’m too cold and
faint to notice the beautiful design and body of the knife. However, I’m not
too faint to notice the knife component retracted from it. “Why do you want to
kill me?” I must sound like pathetic wimp and human not in deserving of life to
him. Another brute boy comes from behind the first boy. He too is armed with a
lighter in his hand. The flame is like a beautiful disaster waiting to be
released. It must be hard for the flame, a being meant to roam free, but is
contained in a metal canister for much of its life. Like a genie in a lamp. “Blood,
blood, blood, blood.” They cry desperately. Everything is like slow motion. I
can feel my heart beat. I know it wants to stop, but it doesn’t know how to.
Anger spills over in me for the first time. I look at my adversary and with the
bit of strength and pride I have left I spit in his face. He screams
indignantly. He has no time though, the second he looks up at my face he is met
with my fist. He collapses to the ground, a huge hefty heap. The broken silence
is startling, but I don’t wait any longer. My feet do not agree but my mind
causes my body to sprint. The wind whistles in my ears. Something is broken, they broke something. I think to myself. I can’t
run without extreme pain rushing through my legs up to my head. My whole body
feels dispirited. Everything goes by so fast now. People’s faces clothed with
looks of bewilderment.  They’re chasing me. Like a pack of wolves,
there must be at least ten of them chasing me.
I don’t turn around to look
though. I know they are after me. I scream through the streets at the top of my
lungs. BEEP BEEEEEP!!!!! A car comes to a sudden stop just before hitting me. I
hear the driver yell, but it is inaudible. My ear don’t hear right anymore.
They’re close, breathing down my neck like my nightmares. I can’t escape. I run
into a vacant area that was once a public shower from the looks of it. I grab a
long rusty iron pole and walk backwards toward the back of the wall. I’m weak,
fragile, skinny, broken, and hurting. My body isn’t the only thing in pain
though. My heart is like rock split open, and water pours in the form of blood.
Why didn’t anyone help me?  I think to myself. Tears are spilling from
my eyes when the boys arrive. It was more people than I thought had come, there
were more… I brace myself and hold my pole in a defensive position. The boy who
had been pummeling me earlier appears. His right cheek is red and purple from
where I punched him and my blood is stained on his nose and lips. He looks
somewhat of a beast, or monster from a Steven King
book as he slowly holds up his beautifully crafted pocket knife. How can such a
lovely looking tool be guided by the hand of something so horrific? He charges
at me yelling, shrieking. Closing my eyes I swing into the wad of meat. It was
like hitting the belly of a whale. The boy falls to the ground like Goliath.
However, I’m exceptionally irate and I want nothing more than to beat him to a
pulp. I look to the others anticipating more fighting. I wasn’t wrong. They
come like a tsunami. Closing my eyes again I swing inept at my sea of abusers.
I can feel and hear the clash of metal against flesh and the grunts to come
afterward. Unfortunately, I am subjugated. I prepare myself for more beatings.
I’m thrown into the back tile wall and take several bashes to the face and gut.
Finally, the pocket knife boy breaks from out of the crowd. He’s obviously lost
his knife among the confusion. I spit another mouthful of blood on one of his
brand new sperry shoes. This
only serves as a catalyst from his wrath. Cuffing his large hands around my
neck he pounds my back against the hard tile. Then in three swift motions he
punches my right cheek, elbows my right temple, and runs his knee into my
already sore guts. Air escapes me like freedom. My ears listens attentively to
the last beats of my heart. I’m so out of it I can’t even feel his foot contact
to my face, causing my body to whiplash to the wet, tile floor. In the
distance, the distinct sound of sirens surface. Maybe it’s God. God has come to save me. I think to myself. I’m ready. I’m ready to die. I hate myself,
because everybody else does, and it seems like the right thing to do.
scuffle and voices chatter. They’re panicking. They try to run but something
stops them. They’re backing up toward me, like they’re trying to hide me. Three
men in blue uniforms are backing the boys back towards me. The pain that my
body has endured compares nothing to the pain felt by my spirit and heart. The
sky is the last thing I see, so beautiful and free. It must feel good to be free. Everything begins to blur into one
foggy substance. Free of pain, of hate,
The thoughts escape me as does my vision, hearing, and consciousness in
perfect harmony. The last thing I see is the sky. Tears fall from my enclosed
eyelids. Why do they all hate me?

BHargis Featured By Owner May 3, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
awesome work, bro! as always ^^
GravityManDarkZ3ro Featured By Owner May 6, 2013
Thanks dude lol. I try.
BHargis Featured By Owner May 6, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
and you have succeeded ^^
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Submitted on
May 3, 2013
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