Face Your Demons

Chapter 1: The Escape

         The smell of cheap, government food filled the room. The chatter of about two hundred teenagers was almost overwhelming. I began to panic from the noise and quickly did the one thing that helped me escape from my anxiety. I unraveled my headphones, plugged them into my phone and began blasting my music. I just sat there and ate my lunch, avoiding eye contact with the people around me.

           From across the table I heard a faint voice. My music was so loud that it only sounded like muffled noise. I pulled a headphone out and searched for the bodiless voice. I heard the voice again, only I could understand what it said, "What kind of trashy music are you listening to? It sounds like a pissed off pig!" Almost as a reaction, my anxiety started to kick in. I started breathing roughly. Inhaling sharply and releasing very quickly. I felt as if I were being asphyxiated. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it was because I knew what was about to happen.

           "Hey," the voice shouted again, "I asked you a question, loser!" I turned to look for the voice and came face to face with a six-foot-two ball of muscle and testosterone. His name was Richard Baker. He was a tall, sandy haired, 19-year old junior. He had flunked his sophomore year, making him the oldest junior at our school.

            "H-hey, Richard," I stuttered while trying to catch my breath and hide my irregular breathing. I hated when people noticed my fear. I didn't like showing weakness. I knew I was weak, and I knew people knew that too. Maybe I could change their opinion though. It didn't work.

            "Hey, punk," Richard said, applying bass to his voice, causing me to jump. "I asked you a question. Don't make me beat your a** in front of everyone."

             "S-sorry, Richard," I said, once again, stuttering my way through the sentence. I felt like a prisoner of war being interrogated by the enemy. The fear and anxiety rushing through my body caused my hands to shake uncontrollably. "The song is called 'Knives and Pens'. It's by a band called--" I was cut off by a fist to the chest. The blow knocked me off my feet and onto my back. Richard stood over me, his shadow covering my body. I felt like there was a giant standing over me, about to crush me with his massive foot.

                "Do you really think I wanted to know?" He said, breaking out into a laugh. "Dude you're such a pathetic little freak! Look at your hair! If it gets any longer people are gonna think you're a chick!" Those words alone were enough to make my breathing become rough and irregular again. My eyes began to water and at that moment I knew that I had to get out of there before it got worse.

                   Looking back at me, Richard noticed the tears filling my eyes and began to laugh even harder. "Dude are you really crying right now?" He shouted as he laughed uncontrollably. My mind started to drift to terrible places, so I stood up and started running. I didn't know where I wanted to go. All I know is that I had to leave. I ran off campus and just kept running, stumbling every couple of steps due to my lack of physical activity. After a couple of blocks I slowed my pace and kept walking. My mind was still drifting to bad places. Richards words continued to echo in my head. It was like the world's most hurtful broken record. "You're such a pathetic little freak!" "Look at your hair!" These words continued to play in my head over and over again.

                  It became unbearable. I made the next left and cut through the park to get to my house. I burst through my front door and ran up the stairs, into my room, and slammed and locked my door. I knew he was right. I began a disparaging philippic against myself. I am a pathetic freak. I'm a mistake. What do you do with mistakes? You remove them from existence. I walked quickly over to my dresser, tears pouring down my face, and opened my top drawer. I was digging around in the drawer trying to find it. "Where the hell is it?" I asked myself, getting more and more irritated each second. My eyes were still pouring over with tears. I wanted it to stop. I wanted the pain to go away. It was all too much.