Studying the Dead

The name is Jesse. I don't really care what others are thinking. I focus a lot on fixing things, solving problems, and moving forward. If I think about the past at all, it's thinking about how to make things better for the future. I notice sights and sounds more than other senses. I have short and simple dialogue during conversations, but I always take an opportunity to show off or be sarcastic. I hate phony people and I hate people who think they are better than me. You know I just hate people in general. Everyone knows how to push my buttons and I hate that.

Why does everyone have to be so damn nice and talkative? What was point in it? The way I see it is, you can't be betrayed if don't trust anyone. It's not like everyone is bad or that I can't trust them. I just don't see the point. At any chance they get they'll just chop you up and feed you to the dogs.

Another thing I hate is when people patronize me because my mother died. I hate people who pretend they know what you are going through but they don't. They don't have the slightest idea of what I went through. God, the rumors they started about her death. I still get mad to this day.

"I heard her husband use to beat her..."
"She committed suicide I heard, who wouldn't with a son like that..."
"I bet her husband killed her to shut her up about his affair, God knows it would ruin him..."

My poor mother would turn over in her grave if she heard the rumors. What disrespectful people. And they wonder why I hate people. I shook my head in disbelief. I don't get the human race. I didn't understand why everyone thought I was a bad child. So I locked myself up in my room or in the garage. If I wasn't reading I was working cars with my dad when he was home. My mother was never ashamed of me. She told me everyday how proud she was of me. People were just sticking their noses where it didn't belong.

I laid my head on my pillow. I still couldn't believe that she's been dead for almost twelve years. It seems like just yesterday she was tucking me in and reading me a bedtime story.

The dorms have been blasting with music all night. It was a party here every night or at least it felt like it. It was hard to concentrate on school work or concentrate on anything for that matter. The walls were always vibrating and someone was always banging on your door. I don't know why I agreed to stay in the dorms and not at home. I was too eager to leave home even if it was just a few miles away. Now, I couldn't wait for the semester to be over so I could move back home.

The music suddenly died down and I could hear screams. Instinctively I jumped off my bed and threw open the door. I saw someone running down the hall so I stopped him.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Someone fell of the roof." He answered and hastily ran down the hall.

Great, just what we needed. I walked back into my room and went to the window. My dorm faced the back so the view was crappy. But that's where I found the circle of people. Some were sobbing, some were quietly screaming while others stood there in shock. I saw Cole standing among everyone. Man did I hate him. He just got under my skin and there are times I wish I could.... I stopped myself from saying it. I re-focused myself back to the present time. I tried to look in the middle of the circle to see if I could tell who had fallen.

The medical team was making a mad dash to the circle. The police were trying to get everyone to back up and give the paramedics some room. That's when I saw the face. Trent. Trent Clyburn. So many nights I wished he would die. He was the one person I hated so much with a passion. Why you ask? Trent's mother was the woman who started every rumor about my mother's death. Which lead to Trent always making nasty comments at me as we were growing up. So many days he deserved to die but was this really what he deserved? I didn't know if I felt horrible or relieved. I pulled my head back in from the window and laid back down on my bed but this time I closed my eyes.