I have said this before, I most likely say it again before I die…
Sometimes something will come out of left field and flatten you like a truck.
In this case it was a writing prompt posted at positivewordsmagazine.
The post in question? Turning Ten.
I don’t blame anyone for what I am feeling right now.
For me, turning ten was a major turning point in my life, one which did not lead to better things. In fact it was the year I fell into hell.
We moved states and i left behind the small group of friends I had and moved to a small town where I didn’t know anyone. I went from having people around me, places I knew it was safe to go, like the local Boys Club, to a place where everything was strange and there was nothing other than the local library to spend time. I spent most of that Summer out exploring alone, riding my bike down backroads and hoping no one would notice me.
It was the year I started a new school… when I had my first fight because I was the new kid… the new “boy” who was expected to show how tough he was…
This is something I haven’t spoken about before… I won that first fight and instead of the other boys backing off like I had hoped, as they seem to always do in books and after school specials, this just goaded them into seeing who would be the first to beat me. I was challenged constantly after school, which might not have been a big deal except I was told time and again, not only was I going to lose, not only was I going to be beaten senseless, but that these kids… these “boys” were going to kill me. I didn’t take it as bravado, I looked into their eyes and I believed them.
Every fight, every insult, every cross look took on an ominous meaning.
If I lost, even once, I was dead.
So I fought like my life depended on it, because it did. I wouldn’t let them beat me, no matter what and they didn’t. Time after time after time I attacked with a vengeance, I gave no quarter. They come to know that to get into a fight with me was dangerous.
Still, they tried. Still they picked fights every chance they got. I guess they just wouldn’t learn…
I have said before, I just don’t understand males. I just cannot understand what drove them to do the things they did, to say the things they did. I can’t understand how, when it was clear I was getting more violent, when it was clear I was going to end up seriously hurting someone, they didn’t stop.
This went on for three years…
And yes, there was once during that time I came close to killing someone.
He was a new kid, like I was once. The other boys goaded him into fighting me because by that point they weren’t as eager to fight me any more, though they would when pushed to it. This poor boy had no idea what he was about to get himself into. Maybe the others didn’t either, maybe they didn’t realize just how dangerous I had become, or didn’t want to believe….
I tried to ignore him. I tried to get him to change his mind.
I knew. I knew what I was capable of by then… I knew I could kill… I knew I would. By then, life had no meaning. Not mine, not anyone else’s.
I did fight him. After school. Between two houses.
Before it was over, I had him on the ground, straddling his waist, and I was trying to crush his throat. I landed blow after blow trying to smash his windpipe. I know people where yelling at me but I didn’t really hear them, I was lost in a red haze.
I don’t remember how things ended, one moment I was hitting him and the next I was walking away.
He survived, with a neck that was so bruised it turned black.
After all that happened, he apologized…
We would become friends after that, though it was a short lived friendship as my parents divorced and I moved again.
Of course, this was not all which would happen my tenth year, there would be much more equally important things, but I have spoken about some of them before and I just don’t have the strength at the moment to go over them again. Maybe in a later post. I don’t know… right now… right now isn’t the time.