I woke up this morning aching in pain. I had a bruise on the bottom of my fist near my pinky finger, like someone smashed it with a hammer. I forced myself to sit up in my bed, still in my pajamas, and lifted my shirt to reveal scratches all over my stomach; I even felt them on my back. How did I get these? Where did they come from? I don’t remember.
I shrugged it off considering I had to go to school soon. I had slept in 10 minutes late and needed to take a shower and get out of the house. I arrived at school and Mrs. Jones at the front office greeted me as she usually did every morning. “Hey there Stephen, Still recovering from your fall?” “My fall?” I inquired. I was a bit puzzled as to what she meant. I just don’t remember what happened. “Yeah?” she said, sounding a bit confused, “You told me just yesterday that you fell down a flight of stairs at your apartment complex.” Then I remembered. I did tell her that I fell down the stairs at my house! How could I forget? “Oh yeah! Duh,” I said realizing I sounded a bit crazy. “I’m doing just fine thanks!” I walked in to my first period to start school. However I couldn’t shake the fact that I wasn’t remembering something about my falling incident. Oh well.
Being a student at Shady Oaks High wasn’t so bad. It’s not such a big school and all my peers were nice for the most part. The only thing that was terrible about it was a horrible bully named Jared. He always cheated off my tests, pushed me in the hall, stole my homework, stole my girlfriends, made my friends think I was a loser, no matter what he was always tormented me. If I ever accomplished anything, he felt he had the obligation to ruin it. Sometimes I wished he would disappear. I sat down and started to do my journal for English class and I looked to my right and realized Jared wasn’t there. Come to think of it, he wasn't here yesterday either. At least I think he wasn't. This was strange because for the past 4 years I’ve been here Jared has been present every single Thursday. Today was Thursday, yet Jared was absent. Wasn’t he here Tuesday? I felt like for some reason I just couldn’t remember the past two days no matter how hard I tried. Maybe the fall down my stairs did a toll on my memory. Not like I remember the incident itself anyway.
That is until study hall when Jared’s mom, who was also my study hall teacher, Mrs. Ramirez, entered the class, sobbing uncontrollably. I always liked her, she even occasionally brought in treats for us like cupcakes or cookies. It was nice to have a nice teacher here. Out of sympathy I had to ask her what was wrong. “Mrs. Ramirez what’s wrong? Did something happen?” I asked. “I wanted to ask you Stephen.” She managed to spill out beneath her sobs. “Jared told me you two were going out to Starbucks to work on homework Wednesday night, but he never came home, he hasn’t answered his phone. It's been two days Stephen, What happened?” Then it hit me. I finally remembered.
I remember convincing him to go out to copy each other’s homework. I remember telling him I would drive. I remember driving past the Starbucks. I remember him asking where I was going. I remembered stopping by the lake and shoving him out of the car. I remember beating him with the underside of my fists as he scratched my entire torso fighting back. I remembered plunging the kitchen knife into his chest over and over. I remembered throwing his body in the lake after spitting on it. I remembered the wonderful joy it brought me.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Ramirez.” I replied. “I don’t remember.”