Josh's Point of View
"Well, aren't you all having so much fun!" the boy exaggerated his words painfully. "We can't have that, now can we? What if I took you all and put you through your worst nightmares, hmm? That sounds like fun. Unfortunately, I only have enough energy left to play with one of you; so…."
The boy snapped his fingers and vanished; almost immediately after, I heard a loud, high pitch sound; one of those sounds that the kids play in the classrooms to piss of the other kids and the teachers can never hear. There was pressure in my head, and behind my eyes; enough to make me fear they were going to pop out. I screamed; then it was black.
I woke up to Mrs. Frost slapping a ruler on my desk. I fell asleep in class again?
"Mr. Minnaar," she preached, "I will not tolerate sleeping in my classroom! Report to the office at once!" I always hated the way she talked; she was too old fashioned.
I made my way down the hallway of Centralia High, counting the lockers as I passed. I heard someone coming up behind me but I didn't bother to look; it was probably a teacher or something. Yeah, it wasn't.
"Hey, Minnaar!" I heard my name called from behind me.
I heard it before I felt it; my face smacking against the lockers. This was normal for me; jocks are douche bags.
I was turned around and greeted with a knee to my stomach. He held me by my shirt.
"Didn't I ask you to do me a little favor?" I could see who it was now. I didn't know his name, per say, but I had dubbed him Douchey Jock #2; because number one got expelled.
"No; you told me to write your English paper." I corrected him.
"Well, why isn't it done?"
"Because you didn't even give me a top-"
My words were cut off to him shoving me against the lockers.
"Do it, or else." He spit at me as I fell to the floor.
He slowly turned to walk away; I thought this would be a good time to try out that thing my friend Sean taught me. I smiled as I rolled on to my stomach, put my weight on my hands, and spun around with one leg out. It worked, and what a terrible idea it was.
Douchey Jock #2, after picking himself off the floor, picked me up by the shirt.
There was pain everywhere; but he wasn't touching me. What was this? My vision faded.
Oh trust me, boy. The fun is just starting.
Oh, right. That kid from the hospital; worst nightmares. Reliving high school was my worst nightmare? Yeah, that sounds about right.
"And then he yelled 'faggot' real loud from behind us. Just because he's gay…."
I was looking at myself; or rather, a memory. I was about sixteen here, on my way home from school, and I was debating whether or not to come out of the closet to my dad. Oh yes; this is defiantly a bad one. Well played, devil child, well played.
"Why would you be hanging out with a gay person?" I watched my dad ask me. "You're not gay, are you?
He laughed a bit but I kept quiet.
"You're not gay right?" He asked again. I remained silent. "Josh, please tell me you're not gay."
"What? No, dad, I'm not gay." This was a lie; the lie that had me lose faith in the man sitting next to memory-me. The lie that made me feel like I lost a father.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The memory ended.
Aww, don't start crying yet! We have so much more fun planed! You're just a bottomless pit of sadness, you know that?
I wiped the tears from my eyes that, until previously, I didn't know were falling. If he was going to put me through this, I had to be brave.
Guess what I can do?
I stayed silent.
No guess? I can manifest memories into your sub-conscious!
Wait, what?
"You're not gay right?" He asked again. I remained silent. "Josh, please tell me you're not gay."
He was playing the same memory? What is he- wait. Manifest. Come on, Josh, you know this word. To create? God I should have slept less in English.
"Would it matter, dad?" Memory-me asked.
"Yeah, it would. Answer me, Josh."
Something ran down my face. I was crying again? Fuck, Josh, keep it together! It's not even real!
"Yeah, dad. I'm gay."
The car stopped. "Get out." Memory-dad commanded.
"What?"
"I said; get out of the car, Josh!"
Memory-me did as he was told. I watched as he stood there. No, I didn't just watch, I could hear his thoughts.
'What's going to happen?' was repeatedly running through his head.
The car drove off, leaving Memory-me behind.
The memory warped; Memory-me was in front of my, or rather, our house. As he went to turn the door knob Memory-dad came out.
"Don't come back." He said as he thrusted suitcase into Memory-me's arms.
I was shaking then; this was probably really over exaggerated; but then again, it was my dad.
The memory ended for, hopefully, the last time.
Stop your shaking! The fun is just starting!
A/N
From, "And then he yelled faggot" and up to "He breathed a sigh of relief" is part of a monologue my friend did in class.
Seth's monologhe: That was then.
I don't take credit for it, and it can be found here: .
