Monday, June 27, 2011

Why I did not become a writer: Part 4

This is the final part of the story. Yes I know I took a while to do this, but reliving that awful memory has been harder than I thought it was gonna be.

So when I stopped last, I had managed , with every ounce of my strength, to walk to up to Bala Subramaniam. He stood frozen, perplexed at how someone could withstand that amount of punishment like I had yet still show some fight.

I knew this was my one chance, before he recovered from his shock. I raised my tiny fists and started pounding them on his chest with whatever strength I could muster. I felt him stagger back. I pushed onward with my fists flailing forward, pressing my advantage.

Suddenly I found myself on the floor again. My ears were ringing and I had this dull pain in my head. I tried to get up , but my legs had given up on me. Then I saw this shadow over me. It was Bala. He started guffawing in the worst way possible, it sounded like the noise a hyena would make after cornering its prey.

"You hit like a girl, Bert. Actually I seen girls who hit way better than you, you freaking loser."

With that final verbal barb and a kick to my already broken ribs, he left.

It took me almost a year to recover from my injuries. I never spoke to anyone about what happened.

I never saw Bala and Raquel again, they left the school while I was still in the hospital. I found out much much later that she had married Bala and the had moved to New Zealand and are now married with 4 kids. I wrote one final poem for her.

Adieu my love, my one and only.
The pain you caused me , I would never wish on nobody
I now fucking hate you, I hope you die
In a car crash or a fire, or me cutting your heart out while you lie
Then I will eat your babies alive, before they even have a chance to cry
Then i will find all your relatives and stab them with my kitchen knife
But not before I sever their limbs first, laughing while they beg for their life.
Damn it, I still love you, despite your evilness and your complete lack of culpability
Come back to me and I will forgive you, we will start over and I promise you , live very happily.

Sadly I never got a reply. I am pretty sure she is miserable now, maybe it's her shame that is stopping her from responding to me like I know she wants to. Oh well, we all make our own choices and we live with the consequences.

Raquel, if you are reading this, one final message from me to you: