Better than you can imagine

I always wondered what tunnel vision was like. I see it in the movies, read about it in books, hear about it in stories, but have never actually experienced it. Having everything around you but one thing seem to blur into a single mass, dissapearing from your senses and enabling you to only focus on a single thing. In this case, years of pent up torment, name calling, anger, frustration, self doubt, low self esteem, hate.

Cory.

And he's still talking. Stabbing the daggers at me; their blades have grown dull from all of the drawn blood. Like in my dream, they're nothing but flimsy, plastic knives that fall short of digging into the skin of the seat. They merely fell to the ground in failed attempts to injure.

I can't let this injure me anymore. I can't. I have to do something. Now. I'm sick of having to deal with this every day of my life, and if I don't do anything about it, it will never end.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Give in to the feeling. I don't deserve this. I never did. I shouldn't have ever had to go through this. It needs to end here. I need to have some confidence in myself. I can do this. I can stand up for myself. I know it.

I take a deep breath in, and slowly intensify the grip of my fist more so than before.

I swing back my arm, and propell it forward in a round motion aiming for the side of his face.

Time is slowing down. It's like the few final moments right before a car accident. You see it coming, but things slow down. You feel like you have time to react, but at the same time you feel completely helpless. It's like you have all of the time in the world, but you still collide.

Anyone with a brain could see my fist coming at him, but he doesn't.

Slow motion, but at great speeds, I watch my fist give in to what I have longed and dreamed of for years.

Punching Cory Rilke right in the fucking nose.

The murmurs silence. All I can hear is my breathing. It seems to take over any noise at all. It's like the whole world went on mute and my breathing is on the mega speakers.

He stops speaking. His jaw hangs open in awe as he slowly lifts his hand to check his nose. It's bleeding. He looks at me with a mix of fear and confusion.

I take off my bookbag, swinging it in a circlar motion and right into his side.

Throwing the bookbag onto the ground in rage, I swing my arm into another punch.

He tries to walk back slowly, in pain, but I move forward. Punch after punch coming his way. I punch him in the face. In the jaw. In the side. Anywhere I can reach I punch him with all of my anger from all of the years venting out.

Blood is falling from his nose. Bruises are already forming around his eyes and along his cheek bones. But I don't care. This is only a fraction of how he has made me feel on any given day.

He falls over from the pain, in an obviously weak state. All I can hear is my breathing, but it looks like if I could hear him he would be wimpering in pain.

I go over him and slam my heel into his abdomen. I kick him anywhere I can from where I stand.

A crowd of people circle around us, giving us plenty of room. They all gaze at the most popular kid in school getting the shit beat out of him. His friends race to the front lines, but after seeing his condition, they just stand there, motionless.

"Fucking asshole! That's what I fucking said! Can you hear me? Or do I have to repeat it for you? Fucking asshole! Fucking asshole!" I scream in rage imbetween kicks.

Cory rolls onto his side, curling into a ball, trying to comfort himself from the pain.

"Do you know how long I've had to deal with you calling me Princess? And Pansy? And all of those other fucking names? Do you know what it feels like to have to go through what I did, and then follow it with having assholes at school call you names because you live with only your mom? Well who's the fucking Pansy now? Look at you, lying on the ground."

I get on my knees and turn him over. He has his hands over his face, wiping the blood away from under his nose. I rip his hands away from his face, exposing a bruised, bloody, teary eyed Cory Rilke.

"Master? How about Pussy. Go fuck yourself, Cory, and all of your shallow clone friends who hang around with you; who after seeing what I did to you, wouldn't even help you defend yourself." I say, speaking in a soft, serious voice.

Leaning in a foot away from him, I spit right into his face.

Giving him one final punch, right in the nose, I stand up, dust off the dirt from my pants, grab my bookbag, and walk to the bus.

With Gerard following, we sit in our seat, I put on my headphones, and look out the window at the scene I left behind as an ambulance rushes to his aid, in front of the whole school.

Fucking asshole.