#flunking out of graphic design classes has somewhat of a use | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bl00d-cherry · 4 years

Text

(Warning: If you are sensitive to the topic of school shootings or just guns, violence and gore this may just not be the one for you.)

————————————————————

CHAPTER 1.

These last two day have been... I really don't know how to put it, but 'strange' is the first thing that comes to mind. I've never been the superstitious type, but with each new problem that arises, I feel myself sinking further into the utter absurdity of my situation. So, after being a long-time lurker on this sub, I'm looking to you guys for help.

Some backstory- my name's Hiro, and I'm in tenth grade at some shitty, run-down high school near my house. My town has never really been one to have a lot of crime save for the gas station robbery here and there, but the kids are mean. And when I say mean, I mean that I've come home with black eyes I needed to hide more times than I care to admit. It's no biggie, though- I started bulking up last year for lacrosse and no-one seems to mess with me much anymore. That seemed to be the case with everyone transitioning from middle to high school, which was a pleasant surprise to all the teachers who preached anti-bullying but never did anything to rectify the problems. I guess they were happy that they didn't have to do the work involved with catching bullies anymore (as if they did it at all). Well, I wish I could say that it was a decent transition for everyone, but I'd be lying.

There's this kid I have some history with. Not bad history, per se, but enough so that I could know and recognize him on the street. Hell, we were in the same 5th-grade class. I liked the kid, I really did- he had dark humor that I found funny and he knew how to sit in a comfortable silence. I wish we could've become better friends; maybe this whole thing could've been avoided. Anyway, I'll call this kid K, for the sake of privacy, or if there's ever a case. Not that there would be.

Some backstory- in middle school, K was the silent, broody type. Y'know, like the emo kid who makes world war II jokes every four seconds and browses Reddit and, at that time, iFunny. Listened to either death metal or X, no in-between. It would be unfair of me to not include that, in those years, I was pretty much the same- I had developed mental health issues and didn't know how to deal with it, so my brain went, "oh, no woke time," and I started making those stupid Bart Simpson edits with the vaporwave over them, you know the ones. But K was on a whole different level. Like I'm talking straight up Boku no Pico at lunch, drawing very bad vent art just to cross out the eyes, stuff like that.To a degree, it was amusing to me. I found him fascinating, and even through my "girls only backstab " faze, I can detach myself enough to look at him through the lense of a man looking through the glass at the monkey exhibit at the zoo- just observing.

Except, this monkey literally got beaten to a pulp every other day.

It had gotten to the point where the kids around him were desensitized to it. Maybe it was because of his naturally standoffish nature, but nobody ever helped him. The few times I tried to report what was happening, the teachers told me they'd look into it and nothing ever happened. I even went to the principal when it got especially bad, and he just brushed it off as "boys will be boys". Yeah, like literally psychologically traumatizing a boy for three-plus years of his life can constitute as boys just being boys. I remember the first time he tried to commit suicide. Apparently he'd been planning it for months and brought a rope to school with him on the excuse that it was for a project. When I saw him leave with his backpack for the bathroom, I got a bad feeling and asked if I could go too. I was the one to talk this kid down from hanging himself on a railing right outside the school's bathroom. And, sadly, I can't say it was my last time doing so. He tried three more times throughout his middle school career, and I tried to tell people, I tried to let people know, but nothing came of it. It was as if nobody cared for him in the slightest- maybe that's why he did what he did.

I digress, though- highschool only got worse for him. I remember on the first day of school after summer break, he gave me a grin in the hall. This was odd- he looked better. Happy, even. I found out later that he'd gone to therapy throughout the summer, had been working out, and taking antidepressants, but none of those proved to work in the long run, in my opinion. But I remember later, seeing that same depressed, dejected expression plastered on his face later on after having curdled milk poured into his backpack and his hoodie. I had tried to go over and help him clean it, but he gave me a weak smile and told me not to worry about it.

Every time something happened, I could see him reverting further and further into the boy he used to be, until yesterday, on October 28th, 2019. That's where the backstory ends and the real shit I've been going through begins.

That morning, he'd texted me that we didn't have school that day. I had been confused, seeing as he hadn't texted me in over a year- he preferred to talk face to face or, rather, not at all- and asked my mom, who was a teacher at the elementary school down the road. She told me that yes, there was a school, and that I was going. Damn. I texted back, word for word, "lmao nah there's school and we've got that test in Wayne's class, remember"

He left me on read. Even more confused than before, I decided to brush it off and get ready.

That was probably the gravest mistake I'd ever made.

These next parts are somewhat graphic, and though I won't be showing pictures (I don't think even I would be able to handle them) I would definitely skip if you're blood-shy or something like that. Because this is a count-for-count recollection of the worst day of my fucking life.

He wasn't in Wayne's first period. I was confused at first, seeing as I'd told him that school was being held today and that he had to be there for the test, but figured he just didn't want to come and stayed home to study for an extra day. I sat down and resigned myself to my fate of flunking this test, but I never got that far. Halfway through the Pledge of Allegiance, the office lady with the most boring voice imaginable stopped talking with a small gasp. We heard the rustling of movement in the background, and then concealed 'pop'. There was a cry of pain (or fear, or both) and then another three 'pop's, then a thump, ragged, gurgling breathing coming in through the loudspeaker.

We, the overtired, overworked, and pessimistic high school students that we were, chuckled at what we thought was just a stupid joke designed to scare us. It was October, after all. But after a few more moments and a few more pops and a few more screams that just had to be fake, we heard the faintest, last-breath tinged voice of the woman over the loudspeaker one last time.

"Ac-ctive sho-ooter... code... hhh... red... 911..."

My teacher stopped flipping through the textbook and looked up at the loudspeaker as if the woman were laying right in front of us, heaving her last breaths in such utter pain and agony and still finding it in herself to warn the rest of the school.To say that pandemonium broke out would be an understatement. Mr. Wayne quickly turned off the lights and shoved us all into the corner of the room. We sat there, huddled, while people texted their parents goodbye. I was no different. The texts from that day are gone now, but to surmise it, it went:

To Parental Unit #1 (that's my mom) and Parental Unit #2 (my dad)

Me: there's an active shooter in the building

Me: I don't know if ill make it out alive

Parental Unit #1: What??

Me: i love you

Parental Unit #1: Call me now, Hiro

Me: I can't

Parental Unit #1: This isn't funny, Hiro.

Parental Unit #1: Hiro, respond now.

Me: i'm not joking

Me: I need to turn off my phone i hear shots from down the hall

Parental Unit #1: Don't get off the phone.

Me: i love you mom

Me: dad i love you

Parental Unit #1: Hiro

Parental Unit #1: Hiro, text back right now

Parental Unit #1: Are you okay?

Parental Unit #1: I love you.

My dad didn't talk. I think he was at work or something and didn't have time to look at the messages, but I wondered if he watched the live broadcast of the thing. I put my phone in my hoodie the minute I heard a pop from outside our door, and I closed my eyes as if it would make it all go away. Girls were crying beside me and the other guys in my class were freaking out, low-key. But the moment I heard the door to the classroom beside us being kicked in and the screams of students cut off by gunshots, an eerie calm washed over me and I stood up, pushing the desks to blockade the door. A couple of other guys and Mr. Wayne caught on and helped me out, retreating back to our spot when we finished.

The bootfalls thumped nearer to our door with each slow, agonizing second. The door handle shook as the shooter tried to use the conventional way of getting in, but after that proved fruitless, he started trying to kick his way in, like he did the last room. A girl a couple of feet away from me sobbed about how she didn't want to die and one of them peed her pants. A guy retched in the corner and a couple of kids had their phones out, recording. I thought to do the same, for evidence, and pulled out my phone.

After a couple seconds of kicking, I heard a frustrated yell outside of the door. It sounded so familiar, and then the gun clacked against the window, the eye through the scope aiming directly next to me, and the trigger was pulled. The bullet flew past me, skimming my ear and lodging in the forehead of a guy Chris, I think his name was, blood pooling around his girlfriend's legs. I remember looking through the door's window as the scope came down off the guy's face and meeting K's eyes. Everything was so numb- I couldn't even feel the blood in my ear. His expression darkened when he saw me and he took one more shot- one that would hit the girl who'd peed her pants in the arm- and ran to the next classroom.

I was frozen. I didn't know how to move. And yet, my camera stayed in place, having caught every single moment of the boy's death in his girlfriend's arms, of this girl's agony having gotten shot in the arm, and all of my utter fear the moment I saw K.

Later, as we were being led outside by the SWAT teams, I took a look around, peering into the classrooms out of sheer morbid curiosity. I regretted looking- it was an absolute massacre. Teachers, students, dead in a place where they should be safe, less than a year after Stoneman Douglas, which was just twenty minutes away. My parents stood outside, holding each other and looking desperately, tearfully, for me, their son, to come out- dead or alive. Seeing that look of pure relief on their faces the moment they saw me- me, both mine and the boy's blood all over my clothes, my hands bruised and scratched from moving the desks, my eyes wild and scared- made me want to cry. But I just can't- nothing would come out.

After, I got asked questions by the cops. What do you recall? I gave them my video. Do you have any injuries? Pointed to my ear and they got it patched up easily. Did you know the shooter? Yes. Who were they? K.

That night was spent mostly at the police station, but my parents got me out of there in time for them to take me home and make me dinner. I couldn't eat it- the metallic smell of blood and urine and sweat and primal fear still lingered in my nose and on my skin and in my mind, so I told them that I wasn't hungry and that I needed to shower.The news said that there were 32 casualties. 32 kids, teachers, killed. They'd detained K and had him in custody. He would be awaiting trial for a little while at least.After eating a meager dinner of half a piece of fish and water, I said I wanted to go to bed at around 11:00. Seeing as I was the one to stay up as late as I humanly could, my parents were concerned (well, more concerned than they already were) but put it up to the shock. I went to bed with tears in my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with dreams of death.

The next morning is where things get... odd. Well, odder. The next morning, my alarm went off as usual. I went to silence it, as there definitely wouldn't be school today with everything that had happened and rolled over, but my mom came in.

Mom: Hiro, you're gonna be late for school, get up.

I looked up at her with confusion. I wondered why she was making me get up, and wondered for a moment if everything was just a bad dream. But then I brushed my hand across my ear and winced, looking down at my raw palms. Nope, definitely not a dream.Not wanting to look weird, though, I got up and got dressed as normal. I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that I just couldn't be at school. I couldn't be there- the blood that stained the walls, the corpses had to still be here- it was a crime scene, for Pete's sake. But, even so, my mom drove me to school and dropped me off, kissing me on the cheek like everything was normal. I walked slowly into Wayne's classroom, looking around fearfully. Kids were sat down working on whatever was on the board, and it looked like a full house of students save for one. The guy who'd been killed yesterday, Chris, wasn't there. It's not like he had an empty seat, but more so that he didn't have a seat at all. I saw K sitting in his usual desk right next to me and he looked up, his eyes full of knowing. I hoped he didn't know I knew too.

Mr. Wayne: What are you doing, Mr. Hamada? Sit down.

I hesitantly did so and made a point to shift away from K as humanly possible.

The girl who'd gotten shot in the arm yesterday now looked good as new, smiling at me with a faint blush covering her cheeks. "I can't believe you actually bombed the test that badly," she giggled, a hand coming over to cover her mouth. I chuckled along with her for a moment, confused and afraid.

Me: Do you happen to know where Chris is?

She got confused by this. Her: Chris? Beurganthol?

Me: No, the one in our class.

Her: Uh, we don't have a Chris in our class. You must be thinking of something else, sorry.

This caught me off guard. I looked over at his former girlfriend and she was talking with her friends, even flirting with one of the guys in her group, without a care in the world. What in the hell was actually going on here?The classroom fell into a sea of low murmurs and I decided to block it all out, trying to reset my brain for a moment by listening to music. I felt a hand on my shoulder and flinched. Hard. I looked up and K pulled back when he saw the fear in my eyes.

His own eyes narrowed and he peered at me analytically.

K: You know, don't you?

1 note · View note