Red Anger
(1/5)
Spock, 13 years old, is going up the stairs leading to his classroom as he does every morning. This classroom is located on the fourth and top floor of the building.
As usual, he is treated with contempt, some of his classmates jostling him.
Dressed in a long black dress, his schoolbag on his shoulder, Spock tries to ignore them. He raises his head, controls his emotions and continues to go up the steps. However, all his senses are on the alert. And that day, while he is reaching the second floor and continues to climb the stairs, he notices that his peers no longer shove him…On the contrary, they avoid him.
That's fine with me, he thought, maybe they are getting tired of insulting me…
Suddenly, he stops on the third floor. A sheet of paper is on the ground. He approaches cautiously and reads the warning written in Old Vulcan: Be careful at the wet paint!
Spock is puzzled. He turns around and looks behind him, noticing that he is now the only one going up the stairs. He raises his head and sees the content of a can of red paint above him. He also raises his hands in order to protect his face but …too late!
oOOOo
Spock hears insults from the top floor.
…Terran…Half breed…Bastard…red blood…
Red paint is flowing from his hair and along his neck. His student dress is no longer black. Spock is now lying on the floor, covering his eyes with his hands.
"This reminds you the day of your birth, Spock?" A young Vulcan says. "Indeed, you are born covered with the red blood of this Human female…that whore who married a traitor…"
…Bastard…Terran…Human…
The red paint is becoming dry in his throat and his airways, which makes breathing difficult. This is awfully painful but the burning pain in his eyes is worse.
His ears are ringing. They are also filled with dry paint. At least, he no longer hears the insults…
His eyelids are closed, glued by the paint. Even his tears cannot escape from his eyes. As a result of that, his corneas cannot be rinsed. A hammer strikes the inside of his skull. The warm air of Vulcan is no longer entering his lungs. His heart rate is increasing or… is it slowing? Spock doesn't know…He is unable to control his body and he is slowly losing consciousness.
oOOOo
"Where is Spock?" Sarek asks. He has rejoined his wife in the waiting room of the hospital of Shikahr.
Amanda doesn't respond immediately and Sarek knows why. She tries to control her anger while tightening a handkerchief covered with red paint in her hands. He guesses that his wife has seen Spock, at least momentarily, and that she has wiped his son's face. Sarek stares at Amanda. She tries to keep her tears which threaten to flow like a tsunami.
Sarek was at the Embassy when the Director of Spock's school contacted him. The latter recounted the facts without showing any concern for his student. Sarek was first convinced that his son has fainted because of the humiliation and the shame, two intense emotions that Spock failed to control.
As a Vulcan, Sarek had controlled his own anger against the aggressors of Spock and his disappointment at the emotional reaction of his son. Then, the Director spoke about Spock's transfer to hospital …
"It seems that his airways have been obstructed by the dry paint…He gasped several minutes before losing consciousness…"the Director has said matter-of-factly.
Sarek had no longer concealed his emotions, in particular his sudden surprise and his worry. He had immediately stopped the conversation and left the Embassy in order to rush to the hospital.
"They…they took him to an operating room an hour ago…" Amanda says with difficulty. Her throat seems as constricted as his son's throat. Her whole body begins to shake despite the overwhelming heat in the waiting room.
"Was he conscious? Was he breathing?" Sarek asks while hugging her, despite the presence of other Vulcans who stare at him. They probably judge him, again.
"Spock could no longer breathe…A doctor had to help him with a tube in his throat…He has also given him some painkillers. His pain was too great!" She says, tears flowing down her cheeks.
oOOOo