My Artificial Heart (2) "So this is our new home now?" "Yep." I hesitated to enter; my house was just full of too many painful memories. I looked at it, and felt like I was surveying over a ruined altar. My altar that had been so foolishly dedicated to Her. "Let's go inside." Tammy said anxiously. "Ok." I walked up to the door, and carefully opened it up. I quickly shut the door behind me and breathed in the almost forgotten stale mustiness of my home. "It's dark in here, let's turn on the lights." Tammy never did like the dark; I think she was afraid of it. I don't blame her, after spending 8 years in prison anyone would grow to hate the dark. I stood their wating, wondering what my explanation would be. What would Tammy think of my home? My wallpaper of Her... "What's the matter? This house does have electricity, right?" "Tammy..." I wanted to explain to her but trailed off again. What would she think? "Everything ok?" With a doleful sigh I flicked the light switch revealing my terrifying wallpaper. Tammy skipped a heartbeat, as she was forced to view the terror of the sight. I clenched my fist over her, as her pain became mine. But I kept looking, for even though I knew it was coming the sight was too much to take in all at once. Every square inch, from one corner to the next, nothing but pictures of Her. Her hanging out with friends, Her sitting alone, Her from the back, Her from the front, Her from every possible angle. Tammy gasped as if Her image were trying to take away her soul, I closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to force Tammy to view the hopless depth of my obsession. For a long time she didn't say anything. We simply listened to each other, wondering what to think, wondering what to say. "I'm sorry." I apologized after a while. That was all I was good for, apologizng. I was disgusted, and even more sickened that Tammy had to see such a terrible sight. Slowly, I opened my eyes again. This time Tammy was more prepared. "Dreeve..." I looked up again at the wallpaper, it had been so long since I'd last seen Her actual face. Her beautiful face, even in the faded light of my home Her face shimmered like glitter. But there was no beauty in any of this. Those were pictures, images on paper, ink, film, pixels, it wasn't actually Her. This was beyond idolatry, this was degrading, this was stupid, this was just plain wrong. Tammy stared at the site in long silence; I lowered my head again in shame. "Is that Her? Is that Trissa?" "Yes." I waited for Tammy to say something, but she seemed overwhelmed at the frightening sight of my obsession. "Did you... love her?" I couldn't lie to Tammy. "Yes." It was beyond love, I worshiped her. "But... didn't she get you shot? And thrown in prison? People who love you don't do stuff like that to you!" "No, I was the one who got myself shot. I was the one who hurt Trissa, it was entirely my fault. That's why everyone in Rew City hates me. This is what happens to bad people like me." Without thinking I tore a picture off the wall and flung it to the ground. It landed with a light tap. As if by some curse, the small photo uncrumbled and Her face stared back at me, smiling. I closed my eyes, now I was the one who couldn't bear to watch. "I don't think you're a bad person Dreeve." "Tammy..." Once you had the whole world telling you the opposite, I had trouble comprehending Tammy's contradiction. "Thanks," I said anyways. "but that still doesn't change anything." I walked up to the wall and plucked out a single picture. It was Trissa's junior year photo; I stared deep into her eyes, and I could almost see my faded reflection in them. I regretfully remembered.... Chapter 2: Trissa Her name rung like a bell inside my head constantly. She was the heartbeat of my soul, I just couldn't get my mind off of her. She was the air I breathed, she was the girl of my dreams, she was who I dedicated my life to, she was my Goddess. The sweet, the heavenly, the perfect, so god damn perfect Trissa Meyers. I wondered how such a magnificent creature could inflict so much pain. She was so fucking beautiful, and I meant that. But I guess that was my mistake. She was too beautiful; green eyes that you could see your own reflection in, skin without a pimple or flaw in sight, blond silky hair that was softer than a cat's fur coat, and her warm smile that just made me feel dizzy. She had a nice ass and a nice body. She was like a super model that had escaped from her studio and decided to live among the common folk, she was complete in every way. That's why I felt so bad about what I did to her, what I had done to such a beautiful and gentle creature. Despite my best intentions I had smashed a beautiful flower, a flower that could never be replaced. I wanted to forget so badly about what I had done to her, I wanted to forget and try to live a normal life again. But it seemed I would never get over the grievous and unforgivable crime I had committed. Trissa didn't just have a good body, she had a good heart. She helped out at food shelters on Saturdays, went to church on Sundays, and she had plenty of other friends that surrounded her wherever she went. Finally she was a great actor. I'd known her since kindergarten and yes; I could honestly say I was obsessed with her. I kinda figured that out when I carved her name into my arm with my switchblade one day. At first I thought it might have been puppy love, but I just couldn't get my mind off of her. Every second I thought of her glistening voice, the way it seemed to chime in the wind with every giggle and emotionally doused word she spoke. Every time I stared at her I imagined myself talking to her, laughing along with her as she rambled on about her latest shopping excursion, I imagined taking her out to the movies, I imagined as we'd hold hands together, I imagined buying her tons of chocolate, which I loved almost as much as her. I imagined myself, as I would propose to her on some faithful day, against the backdrop of fireworks in the sky and a lake illuminated to life by a distant carnival. Finally, I'd imagine as she'd say yes! I longed to hear her say that simple three letter word to me. My goal in life was to see that image come true, to hear that word from her. So everything I did, I did with that image in mind. With that word ringing in my ears, with the hope of someday making that dream a reality. I forced myself to raise my grades to get into the same high school as hers. I took up weight lifting and did everything in my power to obtain a six-pack. I even tried to talk with a British accent once when I overheard her mention how sexy she thought James Bond was. I'd learn Japanese or become a doctor just for her, anything that would make her happy, anything that would raise my chances of kissing her sacred lips I would do without a seconds notice. I always watched her from afar. Trying to make sure she didn't see me but always making sure that I could see her. I stared at her constantly, I couldn't help myself. I felt like I was looking into the gates of Heaven each time I laid eyes upon her tender figure. I didn't want her to see me staring at her because I knew that would make her feel uncomfortable, and anything that made her feel negatively in any way was something I never wanted to bring upon her. I spent my free time writing pre-written scripts on 3X5 flash cards of what I would say to her in different situations. I made these flashcards so that I would be prepared for anything should I ever get the honor of speaking to her. I wanted to make certain I made a good impression, and I definitely didn't want any of my words to offend her in any way. I made prewritten scripts of every possible interaction and scenario that I could think up of. I had flashcards of what I'd say incase I accidentally bumped into her, or if I picked up a book she left behind. Hell, I even made a flash card of what I'd say if I had beaten up her boyfriend who just tried to date rape her. I practiced every one of those lines, I trained myself in every movement I was supposed to make, how to smile, when to blink, how to look, and most importantly where to look. I had lazy eyes that could never focus on a woman's face, it seemed as if they were naturally drawn to the two round breasts like magnets were to metal. That perhaps was my worst flaw, not to mention the one that got me into the most trouble. I did everything in my power to prevent that from happening. I tried practicing it on "less attractive" girls, but even then my eyes would inevitably fall upon their bosom. That's why I had those flashcards, if I didn't have them with me I felt I would simply fall apart with nothing to hold me together when I came in contact with a member of the female species, and especially with Trissa. That's why I practiced everything. Every aspect of communication that I could think of, always trying to develop my skill of talking studly and cool just like James Bond would. Flawlessly and with so much confidence that I could impress even the most hard-to-get of women. My flashcards were my only defense against my own many imperfections. The truth was the only other women that I could talk to naturally and unscripted were my mom and the lunch ladies. Playing out what I wrote on those cards probably was my favorite past time because I could pretend everything was going perfectly. In my fantasies I would never stutter, I would never look the wrong way, everything would be perfect. Perfection, that was a big thing for me. Not necessarily because I was a perfectionist, but because Trissa, being the goddess that she was, required only the best of the best. I wanted to fulfill her every desire and wish, I wanted to make her as happy as possible and protect her from all harm. That was my ideal, my main goal and purpose in life that I had placed high up on my altar devoted to Trissa. But no matter how I looked at it my goals were impossible, or just down right stupid. No matter how many times over I practiced my lines, they could never come out right when I put them to use. Even though I worked out every day I still didn't look any buffer or sexier, a six-pack was all I really wanted, but I couldn't even get that. I desperately sought to fit Trissa's mold of the perfect man, that was my only hope of winning her attention. I'd often eavesdrop on her conversations with her friends, and once after overhearing her say she prefers guys with brown hair I had mine permanently died from a boring black to a Tom Cruise brown. I know, it was pretty sad how madly in love, how obsessed I was over her. The thing is I knew that all too well. I was a loser with no life of my own. I knew that it wasn't normal, not to mention legal to stalk Trissa continuously; I knew it wasn't normal or moral to worship her like a Goddess. I knew I just wasn't normal at all. She made me feel sad every time I saw her, because in the back of my mind I realized that I just wasn't enough for her. She was way out of my league and nothing I could do would get her to like me. I truly had no life of my own, Trissa was the only reason I lived for. Without her, life had no meaning, a quick slit of the wrists and even eternal damnation would be a better alternative. Most people would have given up on her all together if they were me, but I just couldn't let Trissa slip away from me. Not to say I shunned all women out of my life. To be honest I worshiped every one of them, it's just something about them that seems to make life a hell of a lot more interesting. Painful, but interesting. I always had this image stuck in my head that I had a sworn duty to respect and worship all women, and not only Trissa. I never wanted to hurt any of them in any way. They're so beautiful, so delicate and precious. The way they can giggle and talk on and on about stuff I wouldn't even care about is what I liked best about them. Just listening to their chattering is like listening to the harps of an angel. I sincerely felt that I was a useless and very expendable male, my life was worth nothing compared to those precious beings. I was rusty copper and they were glittering gold, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I felt I had a duty to protect these wonderful creatures to the death. One of my sickest fantasies was one where I would save a woman taken hostage in a bank robbery. I don't know why it had to be a bank, I guess it's because I'd seen so many movies where women were taken hostage in bank robberies. It just seems the robbers do that by default. Every time I'd see a scene like that my blood would boil, I hated those scenes. In fact I hated all movies that showed men harming women. Each time I just wanted to jump into the TV and strangle the bad guy to death. I would kill him without a single regret, I would punish him for even laying his filthy hands on a woman. In my fantasy I'd somehow be out of the line of sight of the robber, with my switchblade in hand I'd stab him once in the back and he'd simply collapse. The woman, who always looked a lot like Trissa, would jump on me hugging and kissing me and thanking me for saving her life. Then everyone else in the bank would clap and cheer at me for saving the day, and I would be on the 6 o'clock news being honored and praised as a Good Samaritan. And then... that's when I realized that it would be just that, a fantasy and nothing else. But that was what always went through my mind every time I heard a guy raise his voice to a lady, or when a teacher gave a girl an F on her report card, or anytime any son of a bitch dared to make a member of the female species uncomfortable in anyway shape or form! I couldn't help being a sexist bastard, I knew my way of thinking was absolutely wrong and politically incorrect. I knew that women weren't helpless creatures that needed the protection of a macho male. My only intention was to make sure that no woman would ever have to be subjected to the pain and suffering of life. Such burdens I believed, should only be brought upon us men, stupid and very unimportant men like me. After all we're supposed to be the hateful and cruel bane of humanity who always start wars and kill things for no better reason anyways. Might as well put us to something useful. Though I was Catholic I had replaced my God with the women that graced the earth right here and now. To me they were much more worthwhile to worship and adore then some bearded old guy living up in the sky. And that's the way I always wanted to treat them, like Goddesses. Among all of the women in the world though, Trissa by far was the most beautiful of them all. I just couldn't seem to get that message through to her though. Once puberty kicked in, I got the balls to try and coax her into a date. This was my first attempt to talk to her directly, and already my fear would ruin my efforts. I attempted to make my offer during World History when I knew her friends weren't around to chase me away, "Want to go out with me tonight Trissa?" The line I thought I had practiced to the ground came out all wrong when my tone sounded like I was too anxious. Which I was but I wasn't suppose to let that show. My plan for a night out was actually just an offer to buy her lunch at the local Pizza Hut but I tried to make it sound much more extravagant than that. She simply laughed it off, brushing her long hair off to one side, as if to tell me she didn't want to concern her beautiful self with me. "No thanks." She must've thought I was joking. I tried again, placing each word as carefully as possible, as always I did not want to offend her at all. "C'mon, I'll pay for everything, even the bus fair and all. I know the people there and we can get all the pizza and stuff we want for half off, it'll be fun!" "Um, no. Quit bothering me!" She seemed more insulted than flattered by my offer; I began to feel bad because I was making her uncomfortable. A tiny voice inside my head that I never really did listen to told me to back off, before any more damage was done. But I decided to try my luck one more time. "We can go to the movies instead, or anywhere you want-" "Mr. Rytl!" My history teacher's thundering voice interrupted my futile attempt at courting. The whole class was staring at Trissa and I. My ears began to burn, by the way Trissa buried her face in her hands I didn't think she was taking it all too well either. "Saturday Detention this week, now shut up." I slumped down on my desk, I would have to cancel my arrangements at Pizza Hut. I had already put a deal in with the manager to have a romantic table set with violin musicians playing in the background. I took a quick glance at Trissa’s irritated face. "Sorry." I had violated my own oath to never hurt Trissa. I had gone and embarrassed her in front of the entire class. I repented for my terrible sin later on by not eating for a whole day, which was harder than I expected and took a lot of self-control and self-induced guilt trips. But if Trissa gave me a gun and told me to shoot myself for being an asshole I would do it without a moments notice. I would've done anything for her. And I did too, once. One time I overheard her say that she had forgotten her lunch money at home. I immediately jumped out of the unusually long lunch line, losing my place in the process, and ran up to her table. I handed her all the money I had in my wallet, including the loose change and coupon for a free Slushy at 7 Eleven. "This is for you, Trissa." I said, attempting to assume a manly pose but only getting awkward glances from her and her friends instead. She looked at me with such clear and shiny green eyes, the ones that were so sparkling that I could see my reflection in it. I can still remember her beautiful frown of disbelief as I handed her over $60 worth of cash, I replay the event constantly in my mind every time I want to force myself to smile. "And, sorry about what happened during class last Thursday. It won't happen again! I promise!" "Um, thank you." She said rolling her eyes at me. A wide grin burst out across my face. I cherished every second of that moment; with such simple words she had me mesmerized. Even though she whispered to her friends that I was the guy who was staring at her all through biology class, I felt like I had done something good for her. I felt that for just that split second I had made a positive difference in her life, and that for once I had fulfilled my duty to protect and serve Trissa at all costs, even if that cost was all the money in my wallet. It was ok that I didn't have any money for the bus ride and had to walk a couple miles back home, I needed the exercise anyways so I could look good for Trissa. I hoped that my actions would some how bring me closer to my dream. I figured that giving her all my money like that would at least get her to say hi to me every once in a while, but it seemed not even that would get her to like me. In fact after that she avoiding me even more. The next day when I tried to say hi to her she simply ignored me completely and pretended I wasn't there. Nothing I could do would win me her attention. She still refused to go out with me, despite my efforts. Every offer only seemed to make her think that I was more of a psychopath than anything else. It was true that I was crazy, I was crazy about her, but she seemed to only be going crazy because of my annoying offers. I guess one of the reasons why Trissa hated me so much was because I didn't meet up to her standards. A beautiful girl like her required an equally handsome man. I strived so hard to meet up to her standards, I really did. I tried to make myself satisfying to her on all fronts, from personality to physical appearance, right down to the very color of my hair and eyes. Aside from having an annoyingly big nose what bothered me the most was that my last name did not match up with hers. Trissa Rytl, now that just didn't sound right. The odds were drastically against me ever hooking up with Trissa. Who would want to get married to a guy who would ruin her name like that? Strangely enough though, her name did wonders to mine. Dreeve Meyers, it almost sounded like an actors name. It amazed me how Trissa could just make everything she touched better, even when it was my own wretched name. Regardless of that I continued trying to shape myself into Trissa’s dream man, hoping that I would somehow get lucky and win her sympathy. I learned how to draw her, and I could draw her pretty good too. I guess I did that as a substitution for not being able to actually date her, or talk to her, or have any other form of normal human contact with her. When I drew her, I felt like she was actually there. That I could smell her berry flavored perfume, that I could see her wonderful smile and feel the warmth that resonated off her soft skin. The way her lips curved at the ends creating those petite twin dimples. That smile is what motivated me to keep drawing her, despite not knowing the first thing about drawing. I made myself learn it; my passion for Trissa was stronger than any inability I possessed. I created well over 200 completely different drawings of her. With each new image I was able to recreate the experience of meeting and talking to her over and over. I was captivated by every part of her entire being. Such a magnificent, stunningly beautiful woman, an angel wouldn't be enough to compare her too. She was a goddess. I worshiped her, literally. I had a shrine devoted to her set up in my room, it was surrounded with candles and various pictures of her that I was able to salvage. Every morning I would pray to her, wishing her a happy and successful day, and wishing that she would come to accept me so that I too could make her happy. I drew Trissa in a scrapbook I titled "Trissa Meyers My Goddess", that book was my testament of faith to her. I still have the pictures of her, securely locked away in a safe surrounded by candles and fragments of her discarded trash and other small items that I kept at my altar. Anything that she had so much as touched and walked away from I would gather up and place it there in that safe. My love of her heavenly image kept me infatuated with every movement, every aspect of her person. I tried not to focus on her amazingly sexy body when I drew her, even though I wanted to so badly. She looked like she was cut right out of a Victoria's Secret catalog and just dropped from the sky before me. If I were to ask any guy about her I'd inevitably get the same answer, "She's hot." And she was too, but I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable about that because I knew that was rude. I never wanted to offend her, because I knew if I did I would have to punish myself, severely. If I had a choice between slashing my wrists or making Trissa feel upset I'd rather maim myself then see a frown mar her divine face. I tried my best not to be a womanizer, I knew that at heart I was a sexist male chauvinist pig. I never wanted to offend Trissa or any other woman at all for that matter. I tried not to stare at them so much but it was so hard when those creatures were so fucking beautiful. Trissa was no exception; that's why I wanted to capture all of her on paper. If I didn't I felt that she would slip further and further away for me, until she was gone forever. After staring at her through so many long class lectures I had come to memorize every detail of her. So I was able to draw her in every possible pose and position I could think of. I drew pictures of her standing up, sitting down, laughing, frowning, sleeping, eating, walking into the girl's restroom. I drew close ups of her glamorous eyes, her small jewelry adorned hands, her slender curving back, that was like a majestic valley at sunrise. I drew her in all the outfits she wore, from her blue jeans and tie died shirt, to her short skirt and spaghetti strap top that always showed her small belly button. Even if she put on a mechanic's overalls she'd still be the loveliest thing in the world, it seems everything she did or touch became blessed by her sacred presence. I on the other hand seemed to have the opposite effect on everything else. I drew every possible thing I could think of about her. In my desperation of being able to go out with her I had even made a fake picture of her and I kissing just like in my dream, in front of a firework filled night sky, every colorful explosion reflected on the waters behind us. That was my favorite drawing of her. From time to time I would simply stare at the drawing and pretend that I was actually there. I did everything humanly possible to make her perfect to the most minute detail. If I had somehow messed up at all in drawing her I would consider it an attack on her person and would quickly punish myself for marring her image. To me it was the ultimate blasphemy, and my punishments would range from starving myself, sleeping outside without a blanket or pillow, not even sleeping at all, slashing my wrist, or the worst one of them all: not eating chocolate for a week. I would expect nothing less of myself when it came to her, but even though I put all my heart into it I felt my drawings were shallow comparisons to her immeasurable beauty. My primitive sketches were nothing compared to the real thing, to her immaculate being. One of my fantasies would be to one day show my drawings to her, it'd happen when she was somehow sitting alone by herself. Which really never did happen, that's why it was a fantasy. I'd somehow be sitting right next to her, sifting through my books until I picked up my scrapbook. At that exact moment she'd look up and see it, then she'd say, "Cool, what's that you got there?" I'd look up to her and smile, act embarassed but cool at the same time. Then I'd open up the book and show her. "They're beautiful!" She'd gasp as she'd place her hand on my shoulder. "This is how much I think about you." Right there my fantasy would end. No matter how many times I tried to avoid it, my fantasy would turn to a nightmare. As logic and reality kicked in, I'd be hit over the head by one her friends, I'd be tied up and thrown into a very cold river. Where I would drown to death. Logic and reality were against me, I feared they would one day devour my hopeless fantasies. After sophomore year I began to put up in effort to make my sick fantasies become reality. Slowly, but surely I would find concrete ways to get myself closer to Trissa. By the end of the summer, I'd wiped out the last of my pimples on my greasy teen face. With my braces gone I had a nice manly smile. I began a series of eavesdropping campaigns to find out all I could about Trissa. What I'd find out from those many sessions would prove invaluable. Trissa was a very good actor. All her friends praised her like as if she were walking out of the Emmy Awards. It figures with someone like her, she could be good at anything she wanted to do. There was going to be a school play on Hamlet. She was going to play the part of Ophelia. Though I had no care for Shakespeare or acting for that matter I signed up for the play the moment I saw the first recruitment poster being put up. I was hoping I'd get the part of Hamlet but was disappointed when I was given the part as a minor character soldier. My only line in the whole play would be, "Yes, sir!" and the rest of the time I'd just be off to the side. I had never gone on stage in my life, but that didn't bother me. Just to get the chance to be near Trissa would make me swim the Pacific Ocean. The good part at least was that I would get to wear armor and stuff; I'd be like a loyal knight to her. Sadly, I never did get to act in that play. Chapter 3: Welcome, my friend: defeat. It was during lunch that the worst disaster of my entire life occurred. It would be the sole disaster that would screw up any chance in hell of me ever getting closer to Trissa. It happened while I was munching on a hotdog during lunch and practicing my line for the play. I had my line almost perfected, I'd been experimenting with different tones for saying "Yes, sir!". I had finally perfected it to the point where I would make the most vicious drill sergeant jealous. As always I had strategically placed myself just in earshot of Trissa’s table, so that I could hear every glistening word that came from her. I sat there and hoped to hear her vibrant voice talking about her day and her trip to the mall; instead I heard a shattering phrase. "Tray is so cute!" I dropped my hotdog, landing onto the floor with a dead splat. That simple sentence filled me with a sudden fear. Tray is a guy's name, is: a state of being, so for emphasis and cute a synonym for "I like this guy better than you Dreeve!" Suddenly the bright and sunny day turned to a sad contradiction to what I had just overheard. I listened again, my head lowered mournfully in this devestating revelation. "He's in the school play too, he's going to be Hamlet. He's not like other guys, some of them could be real horn dogs, he's really sweet. I can't wait for practice today." Not like other guys!? Horn dogs? I knew she meant me, I could accept that but what I couldn't except is that she felt Tray was better than me! Did this Tray ever give up all the money in his wallet for her? Did he care about every single thing that happened to her? Did he ever carve out her name into his damn left arm just to show his devotion to her? Did he even worship her at an altar and pray to her every morning? How can this guy without even lifting a finger have Trissa swooning all over him? I had to do something, but I had no idea what. I became desperate, like I were being buried alive inside a coffin. I had to get out, I needed to do something. Anything to stop Trissa from falling in love with that undeserving, unworthy, no good son of a bitch! The tiny little voice inside my head was washed away by a tidal wave of desperation, common sense was forgotten in my foolish rush. I sprung up from my table and walked directly to hers, making sure I used my cool guy walk. Already I felt like I was trespassing on holy ground, but I had to be brave. I had to show Trissa that I wasn't afraid to talk to a woman, even though I was only kidding myself. I had to prove my manliness to Trissa so that she could see how much I loved her. I stopped right in front of her and her girlfriends, I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I simply stood their, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Being so close to Trissa made me want to run away in terror, the eye contact and studly poses I had practiced so many times were completely lost when I stood no more than 6 ft away from her. "Yes?" Trissa spoke, not making an effort to hide her irritation. In my testosterone induced rush I had forgotten all of my carefully written flashcards. I had to say something before I would start to look like a retard. Words came out of my mouth carelessly. "I'm looking forward to being in the play with you. Did you know I'm going to be one the soldiers?" "Oh God, who cares." I hoped that she was only saying that sarcastically. I smiled and gave a sad laugh so that she could know, joke or not, that I didn't take that badly. "So how 'bout that date? I got two tickets to a Pearl Jam concert, my brother helped me get them. Want to come?" I didn't even have any tickets, I didn't even have a brother. I only mentioned Pearl Jam because she had a sticker of them on her backpack. I only succeeded in making myself look like an asshole. "What the hell are you talking about!?" Trissa shot back, her polite annoyance quickly turned to unrestrained hostility. She turned to her friends and shook her head as if she'd been accused of something, "This asshole is not my boyfriend ok, I don't know what the hell he's talking about." she turned to me again, "Look, I don't know what the hell is your problem, but I am not your girlfriend. Nor do I ever want to be! Because you are such a goddamn loser its not even funny! I swear! You have no life at all! You're ugly, you're stupid, I mean c'mon you're like a 10 year old barely going through puberty! I hate you, I've never liked you, nor will I ever give a flying fuck about you. Now can you get that through your head!? I do not want to be your girlfriend!" She reinforced every ego-shattering sentence with an elegant finger that stabbed away at me. My face flushed red in embarrassment and shame. I averted my gaze to the ground, staring at my feet as I tried to think of something to say. "She doesn't like you, ok? You got to stop bothering her!" One of her friends yelled at me. "Yeah, stop stalking her you freak." Another one pounced at me, her squarish glasses and bright red hair glaring in the sunlight that seemed to make the already warm day even hotter. "You are such a pathetic loser, I swear." The shortest of them added. My dad once told me that women were most dangerous in groups. The thought entered my mind as they all got up from their seats and began to from a semi-circle around me, I backed away in fear. They had me on the defensive now. I demanded my brain to think up of anything to say. "Tray isn't the right guy for you Trissa, he's already screwed two freshmen girls, he's not a good person at all." I suck at lying, the way I said it came out all wrong. I didn't stand a chance against Trissa and her friends. They ganged up on me like a pack of savage wolves. "You are such a lying asshole!" And I was. "Hey back off!" Doing that too. "You are such a pathetic loser." And she was right. "Leave Trissa alone!" But I couldn't. "You've been overhearing us all this time!?" Trissa stood up now, I stepped back even further. My goddess was angry with me, I feared I'd be struck by lightning at any second. I gawked as I realized I had given away my position. God, I was screwing up all over the place. "You asshole!" She screamed as she hurled her lunch at me. I didn't dare to try and dodge the messy projectile, for to do so would be blasphemy against her divine will. It hit me square in the face. A shower of milk and macaroni got all over me. As I wiped the debris from my face I began to hate myself to the point of self-destruction. I had caused her to ruin her lunch, I had committed a terrible sin! Her other friends advanced closer, each one glaring at me, their enticing feminine eyes shining with an urge to rip me to shreds. "I-I'm sorry." That was all I could say, and as I expected it wasn't good enough. "Aargh! I hate you!" Trissa bolted at me, her hand clenched into a tight fist. Suddenly the beautiful rings and bracelets she wore turned into sharp weapons that looked like they could cause a lot of pain. My first instinct was to punch her, but an unyielding voice inside me reminded me of the phrase that society had imbedded into my head so well, "Never hit a lady. (But always let them hit you.)" She lashed out at me, her first strike was a scrape across the face. Her well-manicured nails were sharper than I thought, leaving their paint of red blood across my cheek. The stinging pain dazed me long enough for her to slip out a solid back handed slap across the face. She tried to finish up her combo with a swift kick to my crotch, I reacted just in time to dodge the blow, her hard kick ramming into my kneecap instead. I turned around and began to run away as quickly as possible, a hail of half empty milk cartons and pieces of left over macaroni rained down on me until I was out of their reach. On the manly things to do scale, that had to rank a negative 30, but I wasn't about to stand there and let myself get kicked in the nads, no matter what society told me. I felt so bad, I felt so guilty, I felt like shit and there was no explanation for what a terrible thing I had done to Trissa and her friends. All of them women, and all of them hurt by my stupidity. I was seriously considering slashing my own throat the moment I had escaped their bombardment. I wondered if Trissa would be happy if I were dead, I always wanted to make Trissa happy. I decided to wait out the rest of lunch behind the gym, my only hiding spot for when I wasn't admiring Trissa. I hid there, like a scared dog in the darkness of its shadow. No one was around here, I leaned against the wall and tried to sort things out. Not knowing what else to do or think, I turned to the only other thing that could suppress my pain: chocolate. I pulled out one of the many Twix bars I always kept in my pockets. And began to munch on it's pain killing sweetness. My hands shook uncontrollably as I held the brownish wrapper. I stood there for a long while, trying to justify my wrong doings, trying to find an angle to look from that would show I wasn't the bad guy in this whole mess. But no matter how I looked at it there was no way around it, I was the bad guy. I glanced off into the nearby mountains that could be seen from the school and silently wished that I could be there right now. That I could be there and far away from this school of shame. To be on top of that mountain and just see all the world and my problems below and far away as possible from me. It would be so quiet, so peaceful, so comforting that I could just forget my own existence even. I stared off into the mountains and tried to lose myself in their strangely calming beauty. And for just a temporary second I had forgotten all of the bad things I had done, I had forgotten all the women I've hurt, all the sins I'd committed. A moment of such brief peace, I tried to enjoy every second of it. The sound of gravel moving from footsteps shattered that peace. "Hey, what the fuck's your problem asshole!?" The push came swiftly, unexpectedly from behind. I was shoved face first into the cold cement wall behind of the gym, I watched as my beloved Twix bar fell to the ground and smashed in two. I turned around and stared into the plaid shirt of Tray Kalwith. Tray Kalwith, he looked a hell of a lot like Leonardo de Carprio. Same hair, same face, except buff and 2ft taller. I stood in at 5"11, but I literally had to look up to this guy. Think, and respond. Do what James Bond would do. "So, you're Trissa’s boyfriend, huh?"
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