(c) "That" Boy (PG)
I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Original Fiction
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(c) "That" Boy (PG)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 4:58 pm
Chapter One: Broken, Shattered and Torn
He was broken. He'd been broken for ages now, and he knew it.
He didn't have friends at his school, they didn't know how to be fragile. He'd been tortured for being so weak... so sensitive, and the other kids took advantage of it.
They showed him who was boss.
Daily.
So no wonder he had grown up from being a shy 6 year old, scared to talk, scared to walk, to a shy 16 year old, scared to talk, scared to talk.
He had never grown up. The only release he had from this cruel, cruel world was in the form of his stuffed toys, and gaming consoles. His parents had grown used to it. He would sit in his room, with his toy animals, and just play for hours.
They talked to him. The animals were his only real friends, the only ones who talked without scorn, or hate. They never bullied him, tortured him, made fun of him.
He felt at home around these animals. But noone could ever know this, he'd be teased alot worse if they did.
The insults were already bad enough, they didn't need to get worse.
It's unlikely they would.
He was broken broken shattered torn and broken.
He knew it.
He was broken. He'd been broken for ages now, and he knew it.
He didn't have friends at his school, they didn't know how to be fragile. He'd been tortured for being so weak... so sensitive, and the other kids took advantage of it.
They showed him who was boss.
Daily.
So no wonder he had grown up from being a shy 6 year old, scared to talk, scared to walk, to a shy 16 year old, scared to talk, scared to talk.
He had never grown up. The only release he had from this cruel, cruel world was in the form of his stuffed toys, and gaming consoles. His parents had grown used to it. He would sit in his room, with his toy animals, and just play for hours.
They talked to him. The animals were his only real friends, the only ones who talked without scorn, or hate. They never bullied him, tortured him, made fun of him.
He felt at home around these animals. But noone could ever know this, he'd be teased alot worse if they did.
The insults were already bad enough, they didn't need to get worse.
It's unlikely they would.
He was broken broken shattered torn and broken.
He knew it.
Last edited by opium den mother. on Tue 09 Sep 2008, 4:59 pm; edited 1 time in total
the takedown.- Administrator.
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Number of posts : 1907
Age : 24
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
Re: (c) "That" Boy (PG)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 4:59 pm
Chapter Two: Teased, Bullied and Humiliated
When he was forced to leave his room, the only sanctuary he had, it was usually to school, or perhaps with his mother to the shops. He always insisted he sat in the trolley.
He had done since he was three. His mother scowled, but eventually let him. At least she knew how to handle his fragile mind.
He sucked his thumb when he was in the trolley. Whenever people saw him, they thought he had a mental disease. But he didn't. He had just been tormented to the brink of insanity.
By the careless, careless people who roamed this earth. They were the bane of his existence. They made him cry into his pillows at night. He used to sleep in his parents bed, but he got to big for that.
He hated his therapist. Never said a word. His mother was there, describing what he had done this week, if he was improving or not. Usually not.
He sat in the corner, and played with the basket of kids toys. They had grown boring and mundane, but in his mind, they were still as new as the day he first laid eyes on them.
School was just torture. He was teased for the way he looked, the way he didn't speak, the way he acted. He still played on the playground equipment.
He was brilliantly intelligent, but never paid attention to the teacher, or any of his work.
Too busy holding back tears.
When he was forced to leave his room, the only sanctuary he had, it was usually to school, or perhaps with his mother to the shops. He always insisted he sat in the trolley.
He had done since he was three. His mother scowled, but eventually let him. At least she knew how to handle his fragile mind.
He sucked his thumb when he was in the trolley. Whenever people saw him, they thought he had a mental disease. But he didn't. He had just been tormented to the brink of insanity.
By the careless, careless people who roamed this earth. They were the bane of his existence. They made him cry into his pillows at night. He used to sleep in his parents bed, but he got to big for that.
He hated his therapist. Never said a word. His mother was there, describing what he had done this week, if he was improving or not. Usually not.
He sat in the corner, and played with the basket of kids toys. They had grown boring and mundane, but in his mind, they were still as new as the day he first laid eyes on them.
School was just torture. He was teased for the way he looked, the way he didn't speak, the way he acted. He still played on the playground equipment.
He was brilliantly intelligent, but never paid attention to the teacher, or any of his work.
Too busy holding back tears.
the takedown.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 1907
Age : 24
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
Re: (c) "That" Boy (PG)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 5:00 pm
Chapter Three: Rocked, Shaken and Stirred
He knew the classes weren't the half of it. The playground made it so much worse. Glances wherever he went, dirty looks, hateful sneers. They didn't want him to join.
He didn't either.
He was content, sitting and playing alone. On the swings, on the jungle gym. Not even the preschoolers joined him, they left him the hell alone.
He enjoyed it that way. He hated company.
A few teachers pitied him, a few despised him, several adored him. He never caused trouble, he was just the centre of it all. He didn't ask to be picked on, teased and bullied. He was the main discussion in the staff room. A few teachers often bitched.
But they were reprimanded by the rest. Why hate the innocent one?
He hated getting in the car. He would squirm, until he was released. When he did get shoved in the car, he would often have to contribute to the conversation. That never went well. He liked to walk. Gave him more time alone.
He liked being alone. Almost as much as he liked his animals.
No one really cared for him. He was mainly a burden on the ones he depended on. He wasn't trusted with cooking. Not even toast.
His psychiatrist didn't recommend it.
He was also never allowed to learn to drive. Like he would want to, moving things scared him. He didn't believe he could do anything safely.
Neither did anyone else.
He knew the classes weren't the half of it. The playground made it so much worse. Glances wherever he went, dirty looks, hateful sneers. They didn't want him to join.
He didn't either.
He was content, sitting and playing alone. On the swings, on the jungle gym. Not even the preschoolers joined him, they left him the hell alone.
He enjoyed it that way. He hated company.
A few teachers pitied him, a few despised him, several adored him. He never caused trouble, he was just the centre of it all. He didn't ask to be picked on, teased and bullied. He was the main discussion in the staff room. A few teachers often bitched.
But they were reprimanded by the rest. Why hate the innocent one?
He hated getting in the car. He would squirm, until he was released. When he did get shoved in the car, he would often have to contribute to the conversation. That never went well. He liked to walk. Gave him more time alone.
He liked being alone. Almost as much as he liked his animals.
No one really cared for him. He was mainly a burden on the ones he depended on. He wasn't trusted with cooking. Not even toast.
His psychiatrist didn't recommend it.
He was also never allowed to learn to drive. Like he would want to, moving things scared him. He didn't believe he could do anything safely.
Neither did anyone else.
the takedown.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 1907
Age : 24
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
Re: (c) "That" Boy (PG)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 5:02 pm
Chapter Four: Snapped, Cracked and Defeated
He was always beaten at school. For ignoring people when they talked to him, for looking like a four year old, for not being one of them. Them. The cruelest bunch in the lot. they always picked on him and made his life what it is.
Unbearable.
He never thought about suicide. The thought never passed through his mind. But with a mind of a six year old, that wasn't too uncommon. He didn't believe that it could be a way out. He'd barely even heard of it.
Wasn't that odd, really.
He was never punished. His parents knew his young mind couldn't grasp why this hand came down hard and sharply upon his backside. He didn't understand he had done something wrong, and this was improvement.
So they stopped hitting him.
When he went out with the lady he depended on, he always heard the laughs, snickers and questions. Mummy, why is that boy stupid? He wasn't stupid. Just tortured to the brink of insanity. He saw the other children throw tantrums when they didn't get what they want.
He never got what he wanted.
He never asked for anything...
He was always beaten at school. For ignoring people when they talked to him, for looking like a four year old, for not being one of them. Them. The cruelest bunch in the lot. they always picked on him and made his life what it is.
Unbearable.
He never thought about suicide. The thought never passed through his mind. But with a mind of a six year old, that wasn't too uncommon. He didn't believe that it could be a way out. He'd barely even heard of it.
Wasn't that odd, really.
He was never punished. His parents knew his young mind couldn't grasp why this hand came down hard and sharply upon his backside. He didn't understand he had done something wrong, and this was improvement.
So they stopped hitting him.
When he went out with the lady he depended on, he always heard the laughs, snickers and questions. Mummy, why is that boy stupid? He wasn't stupid. Just tortured to the brink of insanity. He saw the other children throw tantrums when they didn't get what they want.
He never got what he wanted.
He never asked for anything...
the takedown.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 1907
Age : 24
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
Re: (c) "That" Boy (PG)
by the takedown. Tue 09 Sep 2008, 5:02 pm
Chapter Five: Dead, Dead and Dead
He knew nothing meant anything, anymore. He didn't love anyone, no one loved him. His parents saw him as nothing but a burden, another mouth to feed at the table. They didn't want him around. They pushed him away.
They refused to believe he was their son.
He never spoke. Even if he did, no one would listen to him. He was alone in this world. This cold, dark, harsh world. They called him "fag" and "loser."
Hate is not a strong emotions for these people.
Weekend hours were spent sitting in his room. He had three activities: talking with his animals, playing his console games and staring at the wall. The wall was really interesting. His mind could see patterns on the walls, and he played with them. The reflections, the shadows.
It could keep him entertained for hours.
He never ate much. He wasn't very hungry. His parents didn't set a plate for him at the table, nor did they give him money for lunch. He used to grab a plate himself, and take it up to his room, where he shared it with his animals.
The kids at school stopped beating him when they realised he didn't have any money.
He fell over. No one knew the cause, apparently he had a heart problem from his eating habits. But because no one really knew who he was, or really cared, they didn't call an ambulance, they just stepped over his body, like a tree branch in the way.
No one noticed he was gone.
Checked; SP
He knew nothing meant anything, anymore. He didn't love anyone, no one loved him. His parents saw him as nothing but a burden, another mouth to feed at the table. They didn't want him around. They pushed him away.
They refused to believe he was their son.
He never spoke. Even if he did, no one would listen to him. He was alone in this world. This cold, dark, harsh world. They called him "fag" and "loser."
Hate is not a strong emotions for these people.
Weekend hours were spent sitting in his room. He had three activities: talking with his animals, playing his console games and staring at the wall. The wall was really interesting. His mind could see patterns on the walls, and he played with them. The reflections, the shadows.
It could keep him entertained for hours.
He never ate much. He wasn't very hungry. His parents didn't set a plate for him at the table, nor did they give him money for lunch. He used to grab a plate himself, and take it up to his room, where he shared it with his animals.
The kids at school stopped beating him when they realised he didn't have any money.
He fell over. No one knew the cause, apparently he had a heart problem from his eating habits. But because no one really knew who he was, or really cared, they didn't call an ambulance, they just stepped over his body, like a tree branch in the way.
No one noticed he was gone.
Checked; SP
the takedown.- Administrator.
-
Number of posts : 1907
Age : 24
Location : Imperfecting the Perfect -
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I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Original Fiction
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