Prologue
My name is Jericho Dolton, and I'm going to tell you my life's story, so you could say this is my biography. Right now I'm about eighteen, a little young to be starting my biography, but hey I have nothing better to do. Ahh you'd think just because I'm eighteen I'd be out partying with my fellow peers, or teepeeing someone's house right? Wrong. I'm not like them at all, I just don't fit. Hmm…I'm going to compare using plants. You see my peers there like healthy thriving vines, and me I'm the wilting little flower that sits in some old ladies window sill not getting fed. I'm so far out of the social grape vine; I'm the last to know everything. This just proves how damn freakish I am. I know I'm different, even if I don't look it. There's just something inside me burning to thrive, but it's contained. [Sigh
I'm pathetic. Anyway, I shouldn't be starting here in the middle of my life; I should begin from the beginning. It was the year 1989, the first month of the year, and the 27 day in that month, when my mother went into labour with me. [Chuckle she told me once, that when I kicked it felt like I was tearing her up inside. How can one child no more then an infant make a mother say that? Maybe it was because it was internal, and there was no protective layer of muscle around her organs. Thinking on it now, I must have been one defective kid. After that harsh agonizing labour I came into the world whining myself red at 2:56 am. And just like most babies, the doctor slapped my ass, yes being told some total stranger slapped your ass when you weren't old enough to understand is humiliating, no wonder I have no self-confidence, or self-esteem. I bet if he hadn't of done that, I could have been some popular jock, with high confidence, and an ego bigger then Texas.
After my birth, everything went down hill; well that's what my mother said anyway. She told me, I was a hassle, wining at all hours of the night keeping her awake, I was fussy, that's all I can say, when it came time to put me on baby food, I wouldn't eat it, throwing it everywhere, puking it back up. Arg…just imagining it is making me sick, I can't believe I acted like that, it's a wonder I've grown up to not become that disgusting creature, I see in my minds eye. My mother never had help from my father, who ever the hell he was, he just up and disappeared before I was born, was a coward, couldn't face the consequences of having un-protected sex, and take the responsibility of being a father.
At the age of two, I was an ankle bitter, knawing on anything because my gums were killing me, having my attitude act up in strange places, like the super market, there's no better humiliation out there then trying to calm down a two year old giving a hissy fit because he couldn't have the blasted Baby Ruth chocolate bar. I just can't imagine myself doing that, whining because I couldn't have a Baby Ruth, because I hate Baby Ruth. I hate chocolate period. Sometimes I wonder if the kid my mother talks about, and the one now, were switched when my mother wasn't looking one day. You never know.
At the age of three, my attitude was dying down; I acted like every other three year old out there, wanting to play all the time that had gotten on my mothers nerves. Oh and not wanting to go to bed at bedtime, and not wanting to take baths everyday. That lasted till I was four, when I was four, I broke my arm. I was an idiot. I was balling like a bitch. [Snort that's what I get for jumping out of a tree thinking I could fly like a bird. Never did that again. At five, I started kindergarten. Oh that was a nightmare, of what I can remember anyway. I remember this annoying little girl that always bugged me, never came near me again, when I poured liquid glue in her hair. You know that little girl; she became the most popular girl in school. And let me tell you something she's blonder then Taylor Masson and she's a brunette.
At age six I started the first grade, not a very good year, though I did acquire a liking for books, it's now one of my favourite pass times. It was also the year where I acquire my own personal bullies, Jason Melton and Dennis Melton. God, I hate them so much! I never told a teacher about the things they did, for six year olds they were really mean. At age 7 I was in grade two, and I was still picked on by Jason and Dennis, who by the way are now on our schools football team, been there for the last, oh I don't know 3 years. You'd think they would grow bored of me by then.
During the ages 8 through 10, I was still picked on by them, seriously its like they had nothing better to do, while I sat and watched the other kids play, and generally have fun, I was unaware I was being watched by the two terrible brothers, who were scheming there next evil plan against me, it was during those years that I faced utter humiliation. I've been used as a garbage can; I've had my pants tugged down to my ankles. I've been tripped while holding wet glue for paper mashay and it landed all over the teacher, I acquired my first DT. I've had kids laugh at me; I've been bombarded by spit-balls. I've had papers sighed 'kick me I'm retarded' posted on my back. I think that also brought down my self-esteem, and complete dislike for myself.
At age 11-14 I got a friend. She had just moved to our small little town in the Canadian Rocky Mountains in British Columbia, when I mean small, I mean small, no more then 4000. She was great, she was the boulder that held me up in those years, unfortunately she began to date at thirteen, and can anyone guess who she dated. If you guessed one of the Melton boys then you are the lucky winner. Some how Dennis and she had fallen in 'love' as they called it. Dennis left me alone, completely ignored me, his brother on the other hand beat on me more, saying 'oh, it's my fault she took his brother from him' and all that jazz, do I believe that, hell no. like is just like it eventually fades. They dated for a year before Dennis broke up with her, when I was fourteen my best friend committed suicide; she said she couldn't handle it, and she just left me. My own friend left me high and dry for some guy; all because she was depressed, she would have gotten over it, everyone does with there first crush.
At age 15, it had to have been one of the best years in my life. Course I was still angry at my friend for leaving, I won't even bother telling you her name. What made this age enjoyable was the fact that the Melton boys moved away! Yay! I was left alone for the year, all alone, and to say that I wasn't lonely was an understatement. I was like the invisible boy, so I turned to my books to occupy me, it was also that year that I found out I had a talent for art. I was a fantastic drawer, well my mom says so anyway. I'm a realistic drawer, I draw my emotions, and I draw the things around me. It's who I am.
At age 16 the Melton boys moved back, and once again they found me, I was no longer invisible, and because of them, I found more ways to draw, and by this time I had been withdrawn from everyone, I barely spoke, only to my mother and other adults. My peers never got a peep out of me. Because of them, I found a way to express myself, and I guess I owe them my gratitude; it certainly isn't a lot considering they picked on me. When they bullied, the grew more physical, a bruise here and there, maybe a badly bruised rib, you know that kind of stuff, it made my life hell, I always lied to my mother, saying I accidentally tripped down a flight of stairs at school, well I was half truth anyway, I really did fall down those stairs, though not without help. With the way she looked at me, with sad eyes and old eyes, I think she knew what was going on from the very beginning.
At 17, I got my first dog. His name was Jupiter, he was a German Shepard. He was my best friend, I talked to him no matter how crazy it seemed, he just always listened. That very same year, the Melton boys shot my dog. You heard correctly, and they left it on my porch, scared the bajebas out of my mother, she called the cops, they never found out it was them. I knew it was them, they always cracked jibs about it. That event, left me feeling numb, once again one of my friends was gone, and I was alone. And couldn't help but wonder, if maybe they all keep dying was because I wasn't supposed to have them, like they weren't supposed to like me. And I blamed the big man for it. I didn't believe in god, I didn't believe in much of anything, anymore, and all I had left was my mom, my artwork, and my books.
I'm eighteen now, graduating from high school in a few weeks. My mother has finally started to date, she's dating some stiff from town. I don't care about who he is, all I know is, if he hurts the last thing I have he is dead. And the Melton boys still pick on me, though not as much, too busy banging there latest girlfriend, which I thank those sluts for occupying there time. This is all I can so I have so far on my life, now all I just have to do is live the rest and see how it goes from there. Hopefully, it doesn't get worse, but I had a feeling it was. Because I broke a shoe-lace before I left for school on Friday, it was a bad omen I know it was.