Lost Forever

He lay there that night wondering why he had bothered, it ended just
like it always did. Same old Friday, would it ever change? Could he get
out of this rut he was in, could he end the spiral of doom. He thought
back over the day's events with care to see how he could break the
pattern.

Friday morning, a new day full of optimism. Frank Mooney woke up and
looked in the mirror. 'Today's gonna be different' he told the man
looking back at him. 'Today's the start.' He had it all planned out. He
was feeling great, so great that he might be able to work up the nerve
to ask her out. He would be able to ask some fellas out to a movie, get
his social life back on track and most importantly, he'd sort out those
bullies that were constantly after him.

He got changed, put the anti-depressants back into the drawer and took
a deep breath before leaving his room and the house. Half way down the
way to school he saw them, the four guys who had been bullying him for
about 3 months now. The leader, Declan, or Deco to his mates, had a
shaved head and a joint in his hand, his three sidekicks looked similar
except one who was slightly smaller and fatter. They were all older and
stronger than John and took advantage of his kind, caring nature.

'What are they doing here?' he thought in panic, 'They could ruin
everything'. The four saw him and smiled, the leader threw down the
remnants of his joint and advanced on him. 'Alright Johnny? We thought
we'd come to you today, to surprise ya. Now, give us yer money and
don't get smart like yesterday or you won't be smiling at the end of
this.' He gave them the five Euro note in his pocket that he brought
just to give to them. Deco examined it jokingly to make sure it wasn't
fake, his cronies all laughed. 'Is that all Johnno? Are you holding out
on me?' The routine started over. John sighed and looked down. Their
punches rained on him, each one pushed passed the skin and hit
something much deeper. Johnny no longer had the will to resist, he just
allowed them expend themselves on him while he sat back and
disintegrated.

They left him in a black and blue heap on the ground, before stealing a
few of his school books and throwing a few more on the ground. He lay
there for about a half an hour, letting the pain take over his body. He
didn't cry or yell in pain, he just accepted it. He stood up again and
slowly put his books in his bag. His good mood had disappeared, now he
was back in his usual, miserable self, staring at the ground, thinking
over all the bad things in his life on the way to school. He reached
the school in a mess, he was an hour and a half late as he strolled in
slowly and painfully. The first person he saw was his dean, Mr.
McCarthy.

McCarthy ignored his battered face and lept straight at him, 'And where
were you?'. 'Sorry sir.' John mumbled. 'Don't mumble rubbish under your
breath, look at me, where the hell where you?' John slowly looked up.
'Nowhere' 'Fine then, you can go to my office and I'll give you
detention, you snivelling waster.' This extra insult meant nothing to
John, he just took in on board with all the rest he had been through.
He let it all weigh him down, he became obsessed with every insult he
heard and ending up believing the majority of them.

He sat in the cushioned chair of McCarthy's office, in front of his
desk. He turned to the mirror and looked at his miserable, bruised,
hanging face. The more he looked the worse he felt but he kept looking
nonetheless. 'What's wrong with me?' he said to himself over and over.
McCarthy came in oblivious to the mounting tears in his eyes. John
barely noticed him come in and kept staring at himself. McCarthy took
John's file from the filing cabinet and opened it on his desk, where he
sat himself. 'Now, John, you don't know how to keep out of trouble do
you? 5 detentions, a suspension, 3 un-punished lates, 10 cases of back
talking. What's wrong with you?' John kept staring in the mirror.
'Everyone thinks it' he thought 'What's the point of going on?' John
felt the tears began to stream. 'Oh stop the waterworks, cry-baby.'
McCarthy sneered. At that John started bawling and ran out of his
office to McCarthy's screams of 'Get Back Here!'

He reached the main corridor when he saw Wendy, the girl he thought he
loved. She was there kissing Declan. When they saw him crying, black
and blue they laughed and mocked him. This just furthered the tears and
he kept running, Declan took a swipe at him as he was running. At the
gate to the school, he saw another girl, a casual acquantice of his,
Julia. Julia saw him and immediately shut her locker 'Oh my God John,
what's wrong, what happened.' John couldn't stop crying and couldn't
stop running either. Julia ran after him for a bit shouting for him to
come back but he wouldn't listen or hear her calls. She walked back to
her locker worrying about him.

He didn't stop running until he was home. His mam was out of the house,
where she was most days and nights, drinking and courting younger men.
Many nights he had been lulled to sleep by the sounds of his mother and
her newest flousy having sex in the room next to his. She barely even
knew he existed, he made his own breakfast, lunch and dinner, made his
own way to and back from school and looked after himself in almost
every way. When he was younger, his father used beat him and abuse him,
one of the happiest days of his life was when he walked out on the
family. His mother got over it very soon, with the help of Michael, or
maybe Frank, well whatever the first guy's name was, she didn't care,
why should he?

He threw the bag in the corner and ran upstairs. He threw himself on
the bed, the pain in his limbs from the beating were nothing compared
to the impact inside him. He lay there on the bed and cried and cried.
He didn't lift his head once in three hours, he went back over every
bad memory in his head a hundred times, each time they got worse and
worse and he multiplied them with the tears. His whole pillow was
soaked with tears and his face was damp when he looked up.

He turned around and looked at the ceiling. So here he was, Friday
night and he was alone. He again wondered why he had bothered, why he
tricked himself into thinking it could be different, it was more the
same than ever. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.
'Someone this ugly doesn't deserve to live' he thought. He picked up
the knife on his desk he had used for his TV meal last night and
shakingly, crying he slit his wrists and let the life drain out of him
in red streams.

Across the city, his mother had just downed a pint and was giving her
number to a man 5 years her junior. In another part, Declan sat back
and watched TV and put his arm around Wendy, the two of them happy as
could be and in another part, Julia sat in her bed alone and thought
the same things John had just gone through. She looked in the mirror,
'He'll never notice me if I'm this ugly, there's no point going on'.
She too picked up the knife, shaking and crying with nerves and she
followed into the next phase, at least she would be with him there.