It was about ten at night and as much as I didn’t want to go home,
I needed to. As I passed the fountain at the entrance of the park, three kids
from school (I wasn’t really the most popular kid at school. Well…that’s an
understatement, I was basically a punching bag) stopped me and shouted things
at me. I still had my headphones on but I caught some words, things like
‘loser’, ‘fag’, ‘gay’, ‘shit’, ‘nerd’, etc. Typically I brush these off, this
time I didn’t. After that everything was blurry, but I had a bruised, cut, and
bloody fist that I was examining on my walk home. A mumbled line of “fuck”,
“shit”, “Jesus fucking Christ”, Before I even made it a block, I heard one of
the kids say “That’s him, officer. That’s the one who attacked us.” I looked
around trying to see whom they were talking about. Before I could think about
doing anything, I was in a police car feeling sick.
That night was spent in a grimy jail cell. I called my only friend
but no answer. There wasn’t any point in trying to call anyone else; Mom
ignored me after Dad left. I just sat on the worn bed and stared at the blank
wall. There was another man in the room; in his late twenties, messy hair, and
wore thick glasses, he sat diagonal to me on another bed. I didn’t really see
him before. He noticed me though. He was staring directly at me; if I moved his
eyes would follow me, like he was expecting me to do something. As he was
watching me, I began to feel self-conscious, why was he looking at me like that?
After about ten minutes of him staring at me and me staring at the wall in
front of me, I decided that I go and talk to him. (I mean might as well get to
know whom I’ll be spending the night with. Right?) As I approached him, his
eyes were trained on me, but as soon as I reached him, he broke contact and
scrambled back on his bed; his back pressed against the cold cell wall. I
mumbled out a sorry and a greeting. He just stared at me, not bothering to say
anything. After failing at trying to talk to him, I turned on my heels and
sulked to my bed. I fell down and contemplated how stupid I was, not only did I
punch some dudes, I didn’t have much recollection of it.
I pretty much spent the whole night
staring at the crumbling grey ceiling, a flickering light only added to my
inability to sleep. I knew the other man in the room was asleep, for I could
hear his snores, but I still had this eerie feeling of someone staring at me. I
was chewing at my lip, before long there was a slight trickle of blood running
down my lip. I sighed in defeat and rolled over to my side. I could just call
someone in the morning and get driven home. A night away from home would be
good, right? Nothing to worry about. I’m all good.
