What happens to a mind when tormented for long enough? Read to discover. (WARNING VERY STRONG CONTENT)


6. Duallity


A few months later I had overcome the acne and my face was almost healed and had only a few minor 'craters' left in it. I was looking normal again. Finally they would stop calling me 'pimple face' and maybe even start treating me like a human being again, I thought. Ignorance is far from bless. I stepped into the torture chamber, or the classroom as most people call it, and with a sign of self-confidence I walked towards my desk.

"Hey pimple face, you forgot your pimples at home? You look so much better with them on you know," Matthew laughed out loud as he saw me.

"Damn right about that Matt, pimple is butt ugly without his pimples!" Paul added and the laughing spread throughout the class.

I felt so frustrated. I had never done anything to deserve this treatment and I'd even got rid of my skin problem. I was back to normal but they didn't care. I remember how I had been so excited about coming to school and show them my normal, clean skin and finally stop being bullied, but it had no effect. I wasn't bullied because of my appearance, I never did anything to justify the bullying. It was like they were picking on me for being me, for being in the bottom of the diamond hierarchy. I had tried to tell my mother about it several times but every time she just rejected the fact and said something like, " Oh Edward, just tell them to stop. I did that when I was picked on back in my school time. They called my high-tower because I was much higher than they were." 

She refused to realize that I was not just being bullied like the old fashion way, I was being mentally tortured and I was all alone with it. Not even my own mother would help me.   

Mr. Andrews, our teacher, entered the classroom and the class fell silent. Paul raised his hand and the teacher nodded at him to state what he had to say, " Look! pimple face forgot his pimples," he said, laughed and threw his eraser directly in my face. It actually hurt quite much when such an object hit your eye like a projectile, but I tried not to show my pain.

"Yes, I see, now find your books and we'll read from page 173," Mr. Andrews said as if nothing wrong had just occurred . Evil will prevail when grown-ups fail to act, I thought and tried to distract myself from reality by dwelling of my fading memory of Claire, whom I had not seen since that first day. I often looked for her, waited for her, but she was nowhere. I was clinging on to the hope that I would meet her again. It was the only thing that kept my walls from crumbling. I was never to see her again, but back then I kept hoping I would. Over the years I have come to accept that Claire was nothing but a temporary metaphysical existence of my imagination. We are all but temporary aren't we?

After the last lesson, I stayed in classroom waiting for everyone to leave. Paul and Matthew had been throwing small threats at me that they would get me real good one day after school. When I think of it, that was probably the worst thing they did to me that time in High school. Waiting for something bad and frightening to happen, not knowing when or where, is incredibly terrorizing and disruptive on ones psyche. When I had waited long enough I packed my stuff and went outside. I looked carefully in every direction to make sure they weren't there. On my way home, I constantly felt a presence of someone following me and the chills ran down my back repeatedly. I kept looking around, over my back and behind every obstacle or building but they weren't there. I reached my house and just as I was about to walk up the path to the front door someone grabbed my shoulder. I froze over like Antarctic. 

"Would you mind taking the paper in yourself so I won't have to go all the way up there?" The paper boy asked and sent me a friendly smile.

"S-sure, of course." I said with a trembling voice and relieved him of the paper and went inside. No sight of Paul or Matthew that day. The same procedure went on the next day and the day after and the day after that. I was slowly going out of my mind from the growing fear.

On an everyday basis they would threat me when no one could see or hear anything. They weren't stupid, they made sure to be able to deny everything in case I would tell on them. If only they'd do something that I could prove. On several occasions, Paul and Matthew stood outside the school just to enjoy my terror as I forced myself to pass them. One day they rounded me up outside the school and shoved me into a corner barely visible from the street or anywhere else. 

"Take off you clothes pimple. Now!" Paul commanded

"Take it off or we'll beat you up so well that you won't have to bother about walking home." Matthew seconded.

I did as they said and stood there in the corner completely naked with my shivering body covered in goose bums. Paul and Matthew took my clothes, put it in a pile between me and them and started pissing on it.

"Put on your clothes pimple and let's see how filthy you are." Paul said sternly and looked at me with eyes full of hate and anger.

I put on my piss-soaked clothes while crying silently.

"Hey Pimple, piss off! You stink and you're freaking ugly. And tomorrow you better bring your pimples or we'll do this again." Matthew said and stepped back so I could leave. That day I walked home crying so hard that I had run out of tears long before I stopped crying. I was ashamed and broken, finally broken.

The next day they completely ignored me. Didn't say or did anything. Nor the next day or the day after that. After two weeks of peace and quite I started to believe that they had finally stopped their torment, had finally got what they wanted. But that was all along what they wanted me to think.

"See you later pimple face, you can count on it," Matthew said in a low voice just as the last lesson had ended and the teacher had gone out of the room. He smacked his fist into his hand to signal the underlying message. I had no trouble reading between the lines though. It came out of the blue and in a blink of an eye my mental status went from comfortable to completely disheartened and miserable again. My heart was pumping so hard that my chest really hurt and I felt a slight tremble in my body as I walked out of the school. Why did they start it again? What had I done now? Everything was just getting better, I was feeling better. Exactly what they wanted me to feel. They wanted to break me down, let me build myself up again so that they could tear me down again. I walked nervously down the street on my way home and only a few blocks away from my house someone pulled me into a very small alley.

"I told you we'd see you later, pimple," Matthew said and punched me so hard in my stomach that every single particle of oxygen fled my body. He had struck directly into my solar plexus. I sank to my knees gasping for air.

"That's for being so fucking ugly and stubborn, pimple." Matthew said

Paul grabbed my collar and pulled me to my legs and looked straight into my eyes.

"How would you like to be beaten up so bad that your mother won't even recognize you?" Paul growled.

"Look! he fucking pissed himself that little swine," Matthew hollered and took a step backwards.

"Why do you have to be so disgusting pimple?" Paul said and slapped me in the face. I said nothing in return but kept quite.

"Answer me!" he said and slapped me again. I said nothing. I refused to break again.

"AN-SWER-ME" he said and hit me between each syllable. I said nothing.

Paul was just about to hit me real hard when a voice shouted around the corner, " Hey! What's going on here?!"

Paul let go of me and they both ran off. I fell to the ground. I'm not sure if I passed out because of the pain or the humiliation or simply because of fear, but when I woke up I was lying in my bed.

My mother and two officers were sitting around my bed. Someone had dropped me off unconscious and told my mother that I had been mugged. They asked me all kinds of questions but I didn't answer any of them. I couldn't tell them. I was afraid of the consequences. That night I was awakened by a strange voice. Edward..... We can't let them get away with it Edward.... We can't.

"Who said that?" I said as I sat up in my bed.

We need to teach them how to behave Edward. You need to listen to me, do what I say and I promise that they will never hurt us again.

"What do you mean 'us'? who are you?"

My name is Dr. Wead. I'm here to help us free from the torture.

"Where are you... Dr. Wead..?"

In here of course, where else would I be?"

"In where? Show yourself!"

I'm inside us. We are one and  the same. I on the other hand, have alternative qualities to help us. Now, Listen to me as I tell you how to get rid of our little..... problem.


The next day I didn't really came to my senses until I was standing in the hallway in my school. My thoughts were very hazy and I felt a little dizzy. How had I ended up here? I couldn't even remember waking up, or falling asleep. What had happened? Everyone was looking at me as I went up the hallway towards my class. They were pointing fingers at me, sniggering, laughing and mocking me as I passed all the students in the hall. We agreed to give them something to laugh at Edward, now they can't ever laugh at you again. We will show them that nothing can hurt us, show them that we don't care. 

"Oh my God he's completely naked!" a girl in the hall said loud enough for me to hear.

"What the hell is wrong with that guy?" Another one said.

I looked down and realized that I was dressed in nothing, nothing at all, completely naked only wearing my bag. Remember, we agreed to give them something to laugh at, so we took all our clothes off. Now, we must get to the classroom.

I fixated my eyes on the end of the hall and kept walking like they weren't even there. I had to get to the classroom but I had forgot why it was so important. Remember what we put in the bag Edward, you have to go to your class and show them what's inside the bag.

"But it's wrong," I said.

How they have treated us is wrong and uncalled for. They need to learn that. We need to show them that it's not okay. We have to. Keep moving, you have to get to the classroom.

I kept walking. I sensed that the students in the hall were tailing me, still pointing, sniggering, laughing, taunting and mocking but I didn't paid them any attention. I had to get to the classroom.

As I reached the door, the bell rang and luckily all the other students left to go to class. I could still hear them laughing down the halls. I opened the door and stepped inside. The teacher was just about to go through his check list to see if everyone was there. As I came through the door the room exploded into a laughter so malicious, so scornful and gloating, I had to cover my ears. There I stood in the middle of the classroom, completely naked with my bag across my shoulder and my hands covering my ears. Tears streamed from my eyes and my puny body was shivering like it was standing inside a freezer.

"E-erhm what's going on pimple I mean..." Mr. Andrews said and looked down at his check-list, " ... Edward. hmm?" He looked a little scared as he awaited my response. I said nothing but kept standing there, naked with tears pouring down.

Show them what's inside the bag Edward. Show them. Show them! Now!

The expression in their eyes then changed from surprised and gleeful, to utter horror as I pulled out the gun from my bag.

Good Edward, now shoot every single one of them, shoot them like we shot our mom. Take out Paul first.

I pointed the gun at his face, my vision was all blurred from the tears but I could just see him pleading me not to do it. I could just make out the pool of piss beneath his feet before my finger tightened around the trigger and the explosion sounded from the barrel of the gun. Look how he bleeds all over the place, just like he had you do. That hole in his forehead looks so good on him, he's a lot prettier with an extra hole don't you think? Now, let's show Matthew what happens when you treat other people like shit. It felt really good, deliberating and just. The blood rushed on full speed in my body and the adrenalin gave me a feeling of immortality and ascendancy. I was in the top slot of the diamond and all of them were squeezed into the bottom slot of our hierarchy.

I turned the gun towards Matthew and walked towards him. He sat on his chair, rock solid as a statue, unable to move from the fear that shackled his body. I gently placed the tip of the gun on his forehead and said," Piss yourself."

He began whimpering pathetically as he pissed himself and a yellow pool lay beneath his feet.

"Well done Matthew," I said calmly and without blinking and eye pulled the trigger.

He tilted backwards on the chair and landed on the floor between the legs of one of the girls who immediately started screaming. She was covered in Matthews brains and looked like something taken out of a horror movie. This was a horror movie, pure fiction I thought to myself. Now teach the rest of them what happens when you close your eyes or look the other way while we were being tortured.

"Yes," I said and shot the petrified Mr. Andrews a couple of times, he kept standing up for a while but when I sent a final bullet through his left eye he flew backwards, smashed into the window which shattered and filled him up with large shards of glass that had dug into his skin and scalp and he slid down on the floor, full of holes and shards..... a pin cushion, a blind pin cushion he was.

Excellent work Edward but I think the little bitch who started all this is trying to escape the room. Kill her! I turned and saw Claire Bennet trying to flee the room. She was crying so pathetically which really annoyed me. She deserved nothing less than to be shot like the rest of them, it was her fault and now she should take her punishment. I jumped over to the door and got in front of her. She looked up and screamed crazily, fell to the ground and laid in foetal position, crying, " Don't shoot I beg you don't shoot." Look at that pathetic bitch. Do away with her. I pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger, but the gun just clicked. Quick! Reload it! I grabbed my bag from the floor and fumbled through it to find the extra bullets. The remaining students in the class, who were hiding beneath the tables, noticed this and took their chance to make a run for it. I got hold of the bullets and tried to get them in the gun frantically. Claire realized the situation as well and got up on her feet and went out the door, but just before she could turn the corner and get away, a bullet went through her neck and burst out of her throat. About damn time you got that thing going again. Now, there were only me, a dozen dead bodies and Howey sitting very still in the back of the room. It should have been Howey, not us. They should have bullied him instead. Shoot him.

"No! It's not his fault!"

Shoot him, it's his fault for not being their target. He's responsible for all this. Shoot him! now!

"No I won't do it!"

Do it! you simply have to do it.

"No!" I cried

It's very important that you teach Howey a lesson for letting us hang in the gallows when he should have had our spot Edward. Shoot him!

"I.... will...not....do it!" I shrieked as I raised the gun, pointing it straight at Howey who had long stopped noticing the world around him. He was in a paralysing state of chock.

Pull the trigger Edward. Do it! 

"Shut up! Shut up!" I screamed and rubbed my temples as my head had started throbbing fiercely from all the shouting inside my head.

You need to do it Edward. It is very important that you do as I say. Shoot that mountain of lard.... now!

"Okay! Okay! I'll do it if you just shut the hell up!" I shouted angrily, still rubbing my temples with the gun dangerously close to my head. Shoot him Edward!

Slowly I lowered my arm and directed the gun straight at Howey. He didn't seem to notice anything at all, he just sat there staring. I gently placed my index finger on the trigger, tightened it a little, took aim at his forehead, tightened the trigger a little bit more then turned the gun around, placed it on my forehead and pulled the trigger.

Some time after, I don't know how long, I woke up here with bandages around my head. I had somehow survived. The bullet had pierced my brain but miraculously not damaged a single vital part of it. Everyday I wish that it is all just a bad dream and that the bullet had taken my life. I guess being alive is my punishment, my fate, like God is even bullying me. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve it for being me. 


We did the right thing Edward. We did the right thing.

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