The Ripper

Trenches Of The Mind

It had been three years since that run in with the wrath and cruelty of the Headmaster. The beating had left marks so deep that they had turned to scars rather quickly, but it hadn't been the only beating she had given me. Because for the next couple months that had followed she had continued to beat me. It seemed as if any reason she could find to do it was a good one and did as such. During that time I had been in a constant state of anxiety and fear. Though I think getting beat into a bloody paste on almost a daily basis for two months would have that effect on someone. I hadn't even acted out since the first time but she still saw fit to beat me anyway and it was obvious that this wasn't the first time she had done this to a student. I had picked up on that due to the way they spoke about me and I had also come to find out that this place "treated" the mentally ill, generally by beating the problem out of the person. My paranoia never went away, even long after the beatings stopped. Sometimes when I would be walking by myself, I would think I had seen something lurking in the shadows, even though it would always be nothing. I would also hear sounds that weren't actually there, and I could swear that sometimes it felt like someone was breathing down my neck. Any time someone got close to touching me during those months would cause me to tense up, thinking that I was going to get beat again. Fortunately, my dreams hadn't been much of an issue back then nor were they now but I was fairly certain that was because of the kind of workload this school puts on you, for it would always leave me exhausted. The other kids had learned that there was something wrong with me, that I had issues and they saw fit to just stay away from me. They didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to them, it was a sort of mutual pact of non communication. The staff however, had treated my very different, calling me a monster and spitting on me occasionally. The beatings had driven me to reclusiveness as I hardly ever spoke anymore, which further feed my paranoia and anxiety. Though I had not let those new feelings stop me and I was able to fight it. I had however, been constantly abused by the staff members and even though it was more verbal than physical, it still wasn't helping my case. The cause for being different was that my mother had been a whore and now this was the repentance that was to be had, that I had to suffer, that God had made me different for that reason. Or so they said. My......mother, as far as I knew, died in childbirth shortly after having me and whether she had been a whore or not was something that would go unanswered for I knew my father wouldn't speak of her. No matter how many times I would ask my father about her he would just shake his head and tell me to go away. This had left me with more questions than answers but I decided to drop it because once my father sets his mind to something, there's no changing it. Despite how rough those first few months had been, it hadn't been all bad. Indeed biology had been and still is the only thing I look forward to during the day, for it let  me indulge myself in something that I liked, which was a very rare occurrence. As in added bonus the teacher never treated me differently either, so I didn't have to worry about being spat on or anything which let me relax. In fact I was his star pupil, making greater strides in the subject than anyone else did. Having already dissected many different animals, I was wanting to try my hand on a human because they peaked my interest the most. During those months I remembered my father had always said I was different, that my actions and thoughts were, unique, compared to normal children. He told me that people didn't understand the type person I am and that they would hurt me because of it. He had been right. I also recalled the Headmaster telling me that because of my differences from the normal children, she had to do this, she had to "fix" me as she put it. That this school "fixed" children like me and that I shouldn't worry because I would be normal soon. Despite her telling me this it was obvious that she enjoyed beating me and wether or not she truly believed that was "fixing" me remains a mystery to this day. One thing had been and still was for sure though, I was not going to give up on getting my education. Even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process.

Things had changed a lot over those three years, the staff had stopped with the abuse and the Headmaster had stopped the beatings. The reason she gave for this of course is that she had succeeded in "fixing" me, whatever that meant. Frankly I was happy, for I could stop living in fear and focus more on my studies. Speaking of which, it was nearing sixth period and I was getting antsy, for today we are going to dissect a human. This is what I had been the most interested in for long time, for the anatomy of a human was exquisite to me for some reason. I was in history right now and it was boring me to death! I honestly couldn't understand why anyone could ever take up interest in something such as this. I then  myself become uncomfortable for some reason, turning I saw a kid staring at me. I flinched underneath his cold unyielding look, what did he want? My paranoia kicked in as I became more anxious, for I hated to be stared at. My mouth became dry and my heart was thudding so loud that it was drowning at all other sounds. The boy continued to stare and seemed to have actually moved seats? How? These questions weren't given enough time to be answered as the boy was now right in front of me! He grabbed on to my shirt and looked deep into my eyes his own starting to hollow out and sink into his skull. Then his empty sockets began to bleed blackness, it seeped out of his mouth as well as he contorted it into a menacing grin. I was frozen in place, to scared to do anything else. This, creature was horrific to look at so I turned away in fear. My heart was now about to beat out of my chest as I was hyperventilating. He brought a hand up to my eyelids and ripped them off causing me to scream in agony. He then brought both of his hands up to either side of my head and forced me to  look him in his empty eyes. He was now on only a hairs away from my face and I could smell his rotten, putrid breath. He then threw his head black while letting out a bloodcurdling screech, making my ears bleed and having me cower in fear.