The tale of the rainy day: Page two
“Really? How so?”
“I grew up with this boy. I knew him when we were in elementary school. He was singled out even then. By the time middle school rolled around things started to get worse for him. Kids would beat him up outside of school. During recess they would chase him. If they caught him they would beat up on him. And at every turn they would humiliate him. In those days he always reacted the same way…. he would pick himself up, his face red with shame, and he would walk away.
By the time we got to high school he started to change. The kids still picked on him, but when he picked himself up he had a different look in his eye. I could tell that the red on his face was no longer shame. It was hate. The hate was plain for me to see, and I am sure the others may have as well. You know kids though; they can be merciless.
Things would have been different for the boy if he were not so much smaller than the kids his age. I think he would have fought back if that were the case.”
“What did he do instead?” the other man asked.
“He took it, that’s what he did. But I could see the rage building inside him. I had a few classes with him when I was a freshman. I once saw a notebook he was doodling in and it really put a scare into me.”
“What was the deal with the notebook?”
“Oh, you know…. drawings mostly.”
“What kind of drawings?”
“The kind that disturbed you when you understood the artist. There were pictures of faceless people. People who had been shot. People who had been hung. People who had been violently hurt. Disturbing stuff like that.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about the drawings?”
“No. I was a kid just like him. It didn't seem possible that he was actually capable of something truly dangerous. But it scared me anyway. He was always such a harmless kid before. At that age you couldn’t possibly believe someone you know could snap, I mean really snap .”
“Did he snap then?”
“Not right away. Things kept going the same for him until we were sophomores. Then he started coming to school with bruises on his face and arms. He had a haunted look that was never there before. His mother and father had split up and he had a new stepfather living in his house. He was not a nice guy by the look of things. Anyway, the strain of that, added to the problems he faced with the other kids became to much for him.”
At this the other man leans forward in his seat. With a look of grave concern he asks "What did he do?".
-John Alexander (aka SirJohn)
