There was nothing extraordinary about the lifestyle Nick led on, except his sexuality. Nick was openly gay, and teased about it mercilessly. Every day when he arrived at his school a group of bullies were waiting to taunt him once again, but nothing was ever done to prevent it, or stop it while it was happening. In every school, there are kids who hide in the closet, to protect themselves. Children of both genders, hiding who they truly are, in order to give themselves some sense of safety in the harsh environment we live in. One day, during his sophomore year of high school, Nick finally snapped, not being able to take the threats anymore. He went to his school guidance counselor, a middle aged female, with mousy brown hair. When Nick told her about the bullying, and his feelings, she had a slight look of sympathy on her face, which was quickly masked by a thick cloud of disappointment.
"Nick, honey," she started out sweetly, "I understand your point of view, but there simply isn't anything I can do that is in my power. I can offer you somewhere safe to stay when it gets especially rough, but unless one of the attacks lands you in the hospital, you're going to have to accept the fact that being gay means that you're going to get bullied." She finished boldly, her face giving off no indications of regret at the bigoted words she just uttered. Nick was astonished that even the guidance counselor was against him.
"Ms. Sweeney, if I were a girl, and I came up to and said that I was pregnant and getting picked on for it, would you say them same thing, or do your best to rectify the problem? Being gay doesn't mean my rights as a human being are diminished. I still have the right to feel safe in my SCHOOL, and for you to tell me that being gay is reason enough for the bullies is unacceptable. Those people out there are making it harder to live my life, and you're telling me I have to wait until I'm in the HOSPITAL for action to be taken? That's unbelievable!" Nick fumed, leaving the room in a stomp, only to be stopped dead in his track by Trevor Grey, the leading wide receiver on the football team. Nick gulped on air and tried to take a step back, only to realize that he was cornered; the quarterback right behind him, a menacing look on his handsome face.
"Looky here Trevor! And I thought fairies didn't exist!" The quarterback, Devin Hoover mocked, grabbing Nick roughly by his slim biceps. Nick whimpered in terror, his eyes shining with the threat of salty tears.
"Awww, Devin we made the poor queer cry! We should give him a hanky, so he doesn't ruin his make-up!" The jock said, whistling at Devin, who dragged Nick into the bathroom with Trevor following close behind. "I think, Devin that we should treat him like the little fag he is." Trevor said his voice rough. Nick didn't want to think of what it meant, but he knew. His mind shut down at the sound of a zipper being undone.
It wasn't for another hour that Nick was found where the jocks left him after they were finished. A tall boy with platinum blonde hair waltzed in, whistling a recent Top 40 song. Nick recognized him from history and Geometry. What was his name, Jed? Jeff? That sounded right, Jeff. When Jeff noticed Nick, slumped on the wall, he stopped immediately.
"Oh my God," he whispered as he crouched down, a look of sheer terror and anger burning on his attractive face. "Nick, what did they do?"
"I-I can't, he said he'd kill me if I told. But it doesn't matter, none of it matters anymore." Nick said eyes downcast.
"Nick, of course it matters! They hurt you, how can you say that doesn't matter?" Jeff never got his answer. Nick stoop up shakily, his eyes scrunched with pain and his pulse thumping wildly. As soon as he gathered his footing, he was out the door, resembling a bolt of lightning. The second he got home, he made up his mind; he couldn't go another day, his head stiffly on his shoulders. So he walked into his bathroom and closed his eyes briefly, just to open them and reached into his father's razor kit.
"It all ends here." He said to himself, before jaggedly cutting his wrists. His short life was ended minutes later.