Page 102 of Heavy
“You made me wait over a year. I’ve missed you and need to make up for lost time.”
My dad was seeing someone that wasn’t my mom, and invited her over sometimes, but actively sought to be out of the house. Away from me, I was convinced of it.
I was prescribed antipsychotic medication after being diagnosed with schizophrenia and severe depression with psychotic tendencies. My dad told the doctors I was making up lies, and I was a danger to him and everyone around me.
The day I started taking them, my fight ended.
He had full control, and so did my uncle.
That was, until three days ago when Mario Allen Thomas told me in the middle of Geometry that I was a‘gay bitch that enjoyed getting fucked in the ass’. I broke his nose, then took a pen straight into his eye. Watching it pop and blood immediately pour from it is still so vivid, it’s as though it’s happening all over again.
Just like cum, I’ve become desensitized to blood. I crave that, however, over the former. I’d cut open a million people to guarantee I’d never taste, smell, or see any liquid from my uncle and his friends ever again.
This violence makes me feel free.
I’ve not been able to breathe for as long as I can remember, and for the first time, even if I’m surrounded by police officers as I stare at the judge in this courtroom, I’m not suffocating.
I wish the boy had died, I hear I could’ve gotten the death penalty. That’s what my lawyer whispered to someone when she thought I wasn’t listening.
I hope to never see my family again, unless it’s in Hell. They will pray that’s the case, because I will put them six feet under if I ever see them again. I’ll bury them myself, just like they did to my innocence.
“Ronan,” my lawyer says beside me. “You have to speak.”
I turn my head slightly to look up at her. She, like everyone else, sees me as a lost cause. A boy that was given everything, and didn’t take advantage of myprivilege.
“To say what?” I ask.
“I was saying it was a negative reaction to your medication—”
“No.” I cut her off. “Lying will make me heavier. It wasn’t the medicine… It was him… It wasallhim.”
The look she gives me reminds me just how unbelievable my story sounds and how much of a lost cause I am.
No one cares.
No one wants to hear the truth.
No one wants to believe me.
“Ronan Byrne.” The judge then calls for my attention. “I was hoping to never see you again.”
Theyonlywant to dismiss me.
Theyonlywant to judge me.
Theyonlywant to hurt me.
They got what they wanted.
I hope they’re happy, because I never will be. For the first time in my short life, I’ve accepted that. This is my fate: to suffer, to be given glimpses of a chance, only to be reminded that not everyone is meant to have it.
A chance…
32
Calista
“Theytriedmeasan adult, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. The first week I was there, I was raped by three grown men.”
