Status: One Shot, complete
The English Story
A Recount of Memories Past
A Recount of Memories Past…
Jess McD
Friday April 23rd 2010
*
School, mind numbing, hostile, boring, savage school; but today isn’t going to be like every other day. Oh no! Today will be much, much worse.
I walk in the gates, my bag hanging loosely from my shoulder, trying to compose an aura of strength when inside, my heart is pounding, my stomach churning, adrenaline rushing, urging me to run, but no I will fight. This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.
It was as if the ordeal wasn’t horrific enough to begin with, the one person I had confided in, in my moment of loss, had betrayed my trust and told all to everyone and anyone who would listen. I lift my head to see where I am walking and my eyes land on him.
That is him, standing there amongst my group of so called friends. Standing there like a king, smirking at me and pretending that what had happened, what he had told, had not.
If ever there was a time I have wanted to melt away into a deep, dark corner now was the time. A long, deep breath and I grin at him and casually throw my bag down. He opens his arms indicating that he wants me to hug him. I inwardly cringe and walk up to him, at the last minute he quickly moves his hands to my chest, violating me, degrading me in front of everyone. I back away shocked, outraged, a look of pure loathing on my face. The people around us laugh, high five him and cheer him on for what he has done.
I turn away and he pulls me back into another hug this time his hand is lower, touching the front of my skirt and I force the tears back as I push him away. The laughing picks up again and the boys converge on us. I slip away in the chaos and go to my bag. A moment later and everyone is glaring at me. I have done nothing to them, the ordeal wasn’t about them, yet they hate and mock me.
The roll call bell signals and I thank God for this little piece of order and control, I talk my bag and leave, a single tear slides down my cheek before I angrily wipe it away and change my expression to one of peace and composure.
Roll call, music, commerce then English, oh God save me from English, my favourite subject now over shadowed by his presence in the classroom. I take my assigned seat in the front of the class wishing I was at the back so I could know who was watching me, their eyes burning into my back. Our teacher announces that we will have to write a story. A short story, my favourite kind. Happily I write mine and when the class is finished he volunteers to read his out. As I listen my heart breaks, his words, his story is using the names of the people that were part of the ordeal.
He is degrading them, violating their memory. I sit and pretend to be enjoying it then Miss loses all of my trust. She awards him a merit for the story and I sit there and realise that this is what I am going to have to live with from now on.
The he has won this battle, although the war rages on.
Jess McD
Friday April 23rd 2010
*
School, mind numbing, hostile, boring, savage school; but today isn’t going to be like every other day. Oh no! Today will be much, much worse.
I walk in the gates, my bag hanging loosely from my shoulder, trying to compose an aura of strength when inside, my heart is pounding, my stomach churning, adrenaline rushing, urging me to run, but no I will fight. This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.
It was as if the ordeal wasn’t horrific enough to begin with, the one person I had confided in, in my moment of loss, had betrayed my trust and told all to everyone and anyone who would listen. I lift my head to see where I am walking and my eyes land on him.
That is him, standing there amongst my group of so called friends. Standing there like a king, smirking at me and pretending that what had happened, what he had told, had not.
If ever there was a time I have wanted to melt away into a deep, dark corner now was the time. A long, deep breath and I grin at him and casually throw my bag down. He opens his arms indicating that he wants me to hug him. I inwardly cringe and walk up to him, at the last minute he quickly moves his hands to my chest, violating me, degrading me in front of everyone. I back away shocked, outraged, a look of pure loathing on my face. The people around us laugh, high five him and cheer him on for what he has done.
I turn away and he pulls me back into another hug this time his hand is lower, touching the front of my skirt and I force the tears back as I push him away. The laughing picks up again and the boys converge on us. I slip away in the chaos and go to my bag. A moment later and everyone is glaring at me. I have done nothing to them, the ordeal wasn’t about them, yet they hate and mock me.
The roll call bell signals and I thank God for this little piece of order and control, I talk my bag and leave, a single tear slides down my cheek before I angrily wipe it away and change my expression to one of peace and composure.
Roll call, music, commerce then English, oh God save me from English, my favourite subject now over shadowed by his presence in the classroom. I take my assigned seat in the front of the class wishing I was at the back so I could know who was watching me, their eyes burning into my back. Our teacher announces that we will have to write a story. A short story, my favourite kind. Happily I write mine and when the class is finished he volunteers to read his out. As I listen my heart breaks, his words, his story is using the names of the people that were part of the ordeal.
He is degrading them, violating their memory. I sit and pretend to be enjoying it then Miss loses all of my trust. She awards him a merit for the story and I sit there and realise that this is what I am going to have to live with from now on.
The he has won this battle, although the war rages on.
♠ ♠ ♠
And there we have it, I'm not only amazed I had the guts to hand this in as school work but also that I placed this on here for all to see...<3