Hard Times

  • af
  • Aldersgrænse:
  • Publiceret: 18 jan. 2015
  • Opdateret: 19 jan. 2015
  • Status: Igang
Basically the story is about a guy that has a rough life.
He gets beaten, he doesnt do his school, and hes really into some shit.
Its about his journey in the teenage years, and all the challenges a teenager can end op facing.
Will he stand strong and come out alive? who knows?
(Except for me)


1. Chapter 1

// Authors note: just had a small addition to the chapter... //



"You can never do anything right!"


The first blow hits me right in the stomach. All air disappears from my lungs. A real stomach pumper. The words from last night are running around in my head, and I really do not care what they do to me right now. It's just another beating to get over.


"You do not do your school! You're not doing homework, you do not come to class, get one detention after another. I'm disappointed with you!"
Stroke number two hits. Right in the side. It’s one of the places that hurts the most. A kidney punch. I try to tighten my abs, but it doesn’t help. The pain is unbearable and the tears start to come. I do not listen for what they say, but there are at least a few voices that are agreeing in that I'm a fagot.


"Do you not have something to say? Are you just going to keep quiet? Say nothing, just like you always do? "


They stop beating on me now. It was a quick one today.
I look down at my left arm, which is tied into a bandage I have picked up at home. It is quite red on the bottom. I think it's blood, but I’m not sure. It was not this bad yesterday.


"If you really aren’t going to say anything, then go. Go to your room! I don’t want to look at you."


I think back at the evening yesterday, and I remember it all very clearly.
I did not go directly into the room, but took a trip out past the kitchen. I rushed to take a sharp knife with me, and then I ran upstairs to my room. I closed and locked the door. My room was dark because I had no lights on, and it was in evening. There was very messy, because I had been fighting with my brother earlier that day. He came in and asked for money. I had nothing to give him today, so it ended up with me being beaten. It was not as bad, as what I get up at the school, but it still hurt.
The day had been very hard, and a tear was dripping from my cheek, down the black carpet. I stood there all alone in the dark, with the knife in my hand. One of my friends also have problems at home. He’s often sad, and feel bad about himself, he tells me. When it is very bad, so he usually take a knife, and then make wounds in his arms and legs. He says it makes him feel better. Tells it is a wonderful and liberating feeling. I think that it may hurt, but he says that when you are so upset about something, then it's not something you put too much notice on. When you feel bad about yourself, dominates the good feeling the pain.


I sit and cry in the middle of the schoolyard, without anyone noticing it. It's probably because that time is now 12:35, and the lunch break is over. I should go to class, but I do not want to go in there, while I am still quite red in the face from crying.
I look back down at my arm. The white bandage are covering my arm from wrist to my elbow. It’s nice that the guys who beat me up didn’t see it. They had probably pulled it off, and thereby revealed the rest of the evening.


As said as I stood there in the dark, with the knife in my hand. I started to cry more and more. I could not stand it anymore, and I had to see if William's idea helped.
I slowly brought the knife up to my forearm. I turned my arm so that the light side of the arm was shown. I put the tip of the knife against the skin, and pushed a little. I could already see that he was right! It did not in the least. I pushed a little more, and it gave some kind of pleasing. A nice feeling of satisfaction ran through my body. I pushed a little more, and a dark liquid appeared on my arm.




I turned the knife so the edge faced my hand, and slowly moved it up my arm. The knife left a dark red trail after it, and it felt so good. I felt guilty, but at the same time so satisfied. It was like all my problems and worries disappeared, I knew that the next day I would get beat up, but it didn’t matter at that moment.
I took the knife away from my arm, when it hit my wrist. I felt all empty, and I didn’t want it to stop, so did it again. I think I ended up doing it like four times, before I stopped.
my arm was all bloody, and the black carpet had a small pool of blood on it.
I took one of my t-shirts, and bandaged my arm with it in an attempt to cover the wounds.
We had a real bandage in the kitchen, so I went down there and grabbed it quickly.

So now I sit here, in the middle of the schoolyard. I need to change the bandage soon, because it starts to bleed though. I’m surprised it hasn’t stopped yet, but I guess it’s because that it was such a big wound...

Vær en del af Movellas nuFind ud a, hvad det er alle snakker om. Tilmeld dig nu og del din kreativitet og det, du brænder for
Loading ...