Please, God, I’m Fourteen: I don’t want to die

The day I died was just an average day.

I remember waking up with the morning sun shining through my bedroom window. I remember how it warmed my back as I got dressed. I even remember stopping for a second, and thinking: ‘Maybe - just maybe - today will be different. Maybe today will be a good day.’ In my heart I knew it wouldn’t be, though.

I grabbed my backpack, and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Breakfast was the same as always: quietly sitting across from Dad without a single word or a ‘Good morning’ being said. I went to the sink, washed my bowl, and grabbed the lunch money off the counter. I remember pausing and turning around a little at the door, hoping for a ‘Have a good day’ - even a wave or smile - but like every other day, it was not to be found.

Oh well, I guess it’s just an average day.

I remember waiting for the bus, and the lump in my throat as I saw the bus coming down the road. I knew I would be sitting all alone as I did every day before. As we stopped at each of the kids’ homes, I knew none of them would say ‘Hi’ to me as they walked past me, going to their seat. I remember them all laughing happily behind me.

Oh well, I guess it’s just an average day.

III

In school it was no different. It felt just like so many days before. Running from class to class trying to hide from a couple of bullies that didn’t like me, for some reason I never could figure out.

My luck ran out late in the morning that day. I saw HIM in the hallway waiting for me. I remember thinking: ‘What will it be today? A punch, slap, or kick; spit in my face; or just belittling me with hurtful words.’

As I headed to what had been my life for a couple of years now, something in me snapped, as I thought: ‘Not today.’

As I got closer to him, I heard him say: ‘Come here, and get what you deserve.’ Then he reached out to grab me. I jumped forward, and pushed him as hard as I could; and he fell to the floor, hitting his head on the lockers. I ran to class as fast as I could, and never looked back. I remember sitting in class feeling really good, I even smiled for the first time that day.

I thought: ’Now that I finally stood up for myself maybe - please God - maybe they will leave me alone. Maybe we can even be friends - wow, that would make me so happy...

‘Maybe this will be a better than average day.’

Lunch was usually my most favorite time of the day. I really enjoyed sitting and talking with the couple of friends that I did have. I found out from them that word of what I did was going around the school. I finished most of my cheeseburger, and said to my friends that I’d be right back.

‘I just need to go to the bathroom.’

As I stood at the urinal, I heard the door open. I looked around, and saw it was him. I let out a sigh, and thought: ‘Okay, let’s just get this over with. Whatever it will be - a slap, punch, or typical name-calling.’

As I turned around, I started to say: ‘I am sorry…’ - but he lunged forward, and thrust a knife deep into my stomach six times. I grabbed my stomach with both hands, and fell to the floor. The pain was so bad. As I laid there, trying to breath, all I could think was…

‘This is definitely not an average day.’

As I opened my eyes, I remember how confused I was.

I was looking down at myself - so strange, I had never been able to do that before. I was such a mess. Blood was everywhere, and coming out of all the holes in my stomach. I was angry because I saw he had put rips in my favorite shirt.

I could see teachers, policemen and firemen running all around. I wondered why they would not talk to me. I kept asking them questions, but they just kept ignoring me.

‘Oh well, at least it does not hurt anymore.’

Things went dark for a while. With a bump, I woke up in a very strange, cold room. Off in the distance, I could hear my Dad’s voice.

‘Help, Dad - help me, please - I am so cold, Dad.’

I saw Dad standing over me, crying and repeating my name over and over. I had never seen my Dad so broken.

‘What, Dad? What is wrong? I am right here, Dad - please answer me.’

He put his head on my chest and said: ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too, Dad - I love you too.’

Why can’t he hear me?

’Wait, stop - please stop - do not pull that sheet over my head. I am scared of the dark. I can’t be dead - I just can’t be - I’m only fourteen. Please, God, please - I’m sorry if I did something wrong. I promise I will be better. Please, God - please give me...

‘Just one more average day.’

***

A story about why we should never allow bullying.

Ethan