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.
"HEY! GET BACK HERE, PRICK! GET HIM!" shouted Gary.
Chris kept running and panting, the gang right on his tail. Chris hit a dead end, having to make a decision right then and there - run towards the woods or take the risk and try slipping past the six devils. He chose to run towards the woods. Little did he know how slippery the muddy ground was, or he would have reconsidered his decision immediately. Chris fell face down. He got up as swiftly as possible, but the gang had already caught up to him. Chris stood facing the armed sextet. They approached him slowly and menacingly, him taking one step back with every step they took forward.
"Guys, put those things away..." Chris trembled.
"Why? You scared?" Carson chuckled darkly.
"Someone's going to get hurt, guys. Please stop this."
"The only one that's gonna get hurt here is you, freak."
By now Christopher had run out of room to back up, his back was against a tree and the edge of the lake was a few yards behind it. The gang surrounded him and pointed their knives straight at him.
"Guys... think about what the hell you're doing..."
"We're having fun, that's what we're doing." smirked Liam.
"If someone gets hurt you are all going to be in deep... think about this."
"No, you think about it. We've never gotten into any trouble for kicking you around all these years, so why would we now?" replied Barney.
"This is different guys... someone can die..."
"Is that a threat?" intruded Harold.
"I think it was" added Carson as he put the blade skin-close to Christopher's throat.
"Ooo look how pale he is! You'd think he's a vampire by the way he dresses!" laughed Carson, followed by the rest of the gang.
"Seriously, all of you. Stop it before this gets out of hand, please." pleaded Chris.
"Don't worry, it's not like you can die if you're already dead." mocked Gary.
A million thoughts were soaring through Christopher's head, but most of all he was wishing he was anywhere else but here. He had limited choices right now and not much time to weigh his options. He made a choice. He pushed Carson away as hard as he could, causing him to knock down two of his fellows, giving a chance for Chris to make a run for it. Once again he dashed as fast as he could, only managing to run a few feet, quickly getting tackled by Joel and Gary.
"Get off me you psychos!" screamed Chris, doing all he could to break free.
"You're not getting away from us." growled Gary, trying to subdue him.
"Stop squirming you worm!" yelled Joel, as he helped Gary.
"Argh," Gary and Joel grunted as Chris managed to push them off, "Come help us you idiots!!!" they yelled out to the other four.
The four others caught Chris again and tried to restrain him, Gary and Joel getting up and joining in. Christopher was in the middle of everyone, squirming and attempting with all his strength to get away from them and just go home. But, with six against him, all his efforts were in vain. He felt the helplessness drown him once more, just as it always had.
"Stop fighting, freakshow!" "Just give up!" "You're not going anywhere, punk!" The sound of rough talking filled the forest air.
There was a terror-filled scream. Everyone freaked out and backed up. Harold stood wide-eyed, shaking, his mask on the floor, with a bloody knife in his hand.
Chris lay on the ground, his blood slowly crawling all over him, turning his clothes crimson. Life was drained from him along with the blood. He lay pale and lifeless.
"What the hell did you do!?" shrieked the rest of them, while Harold remained shaken.
"It doesn't matter anymore! We gotta get rid of this, this never happened," instructed Gary. the guys slowly agreed. "Joel, do you still have that rope?"
"Y-yeah why?"
"We make this look like a suicide and no one will question a thing. Everyone knows this freak was always a depressed one anyways."
Joel gave a slight nod.
Joel and Barney climbed a tree and tightly tied the rope to it, while Carson tied a knot at the other end.
"Dammit! Why'd you have to die?!" complained Gary as he and Liam dragged Chris's body towards the tree.
With some effort from all the guys, they managed to lift Chris up and set the knot around throat.
"Alright. We're done here." panted Gary.
They all let out a sigh and left for their homes, the corpse of their bloody victim hanging in the moonlight. Little did they know that wasn't the last time they would see him.