'Dead' Does Not Mean the End

1. Hanging With The Wrong Crowd

It was the worst mistake of his mortal life, yes it was; but, no one can blame poor 19 year old Christopher Draven. He had been emotionally, mentally, and physically drained by those who thought themselves bigger and better than him his whole life.

The bullying had begun as early as kindergarten, at the tender age of six. He received much of the bullying from a group of six friends, but everyone around him played a part. It started off with name-calling and nudges in the hallways, but it escalated quickly throughout the years into brutal slamming against lockers, black eyes, bloody noses, busted lips, and so much hate that it would make anyone doubt their self worth. But, at least there were people with him.

Matters were worse at home for Chris. His mother had left him and his father shortly after he was born, his father doing much the same, doing all the wrong things in all the wrong places, getting drunk off his ass and breaking in to acquire things that weren't his. Though, Christopher saw very little of his father, so his actions bothered him minimally, aside from the shame of being related in blood to such a man. His grandfather was the one who truly raised him, he was the one to teach him right from wrong and give him a little bit of that love he had always needed, but he died when Chris was around 9 years in age. When his grandfather died, things plummeted for him. There was no longer anyone there to heal his wounds and cheer him up with a song when he was down.

Now all there was to greet him when he arrived from a horrendous day out in the cruel world was a door screech and an ominous silence. The only thing in the world he had left was the beaten old house he lived in. His father, as usual, left one to two weeks at a time coming back to the house for only one or two nights, but one day when Christopher was 13, his father left and never returned. He was from that moment forth officially all alone. He managed to crawl himself through his teenage years, but due to all his suffering and a longing for somewhere to belong, for someone to care, he ended up making a fatal mistake.

It was 2am. Dark and eerie. Christopher, now 19, stood in the silent rippled blue glow of the moonlight by the abandoned docks. He had been told by Gary, the leader of the gang of bullies that had haunted him throughout his entire childhood, that he should be at the abandoned docks at two, so that he could pass a test to prove himself worthy of their acceptance. He was at first reluctant to accept, but at the moment it was either that or yet another year of beatings and belittling.

He stood there, waiting, for some ten minutes. Just about sure that it was a practical joke on their behalf to make him go there and never show up, he sighed and was going to head home. Then, out of nowhere, a pick-up truck and four motor-bikes pulled up a few hundred yards from him. Gary, Harold, Liam, Carson and Barney, the entire gang, minus one, got off their respective vehicles and ran up to a wide-eyed Chris with hockey masks and knives.

Christopher ran in the opposite direction towards the abandoned fishing cabin as fast as he possibly could. Running was one thing he had much experience on. To his dismay, though, his virtue of speed aided him not, as the sixth member of the gang, Joel, was waiting for him by the deteriorated cabin with a knife and rope in hand. The others caught up quickly and they barbarically pushed Chris to the ground. He tried to get up more than once, but they kept kicking him back down.

"Get up you sissy!" yelled Gary.

"We're too much for the little girl!" laughed Joel.

"You're six guys ... picking on one ... how the hell do you want me to get up ... if you keep knocking me back down ...?" mumbled Chris from the ground while coughing and spiting out blood.

"Shut up, Draven." demanded Carson as he kicked Chris again.

Joel grabbed Chris by the back of his shirts collar and pulled him up, then pushed him to the ground on his back. He stayed on the ground for a few seconds and spit out the blood in his mouth one more time. When the moment seemed perfect, he got up as fast as he could and he ran back the way he had come.