Prelude To Insanity

by Timothy P. Carnahan

  Stephen came nose to nose with Cole while Mike and Andrew pulled up short. “I’m talking to you asshole! What the hell are you doing staring at my girl?” Cole didn’t move knowing that Stephen would likely jump at anything more than a subtle reaction. Cole had witnessed this before when Stephen had actually punched Mike, his best friend, for receiving a courtesy hug from her.

  Cole eased back however, Stephen stayed close. ‘Maybe I should have run.’ He thought but, he knew he most likely wouldn’t be able to outrun Stephen, nor did he wish to look like a coward. He kept his attention on Stephen’s eyes and quietly said, “I wasn’t staring at anyone. I was zoning, man.”

  Stephen grabbed Cole’s shirt and thrust him back against the wall hard enough that Cole’s head smacked the building behind him. He was dazed, but he fought desperately to keep his eyes focused and hide how bad the jolt had hurt.

  “What are you doing looking at the girls anyway?” Stephen asked with a hateful smile on his face.

  Cole made no move to get away or fight back. He simply kept his attention on Stephen with a quiet, simple regard. ‘What could he say?’

  “I asked you a question faggot. Are you a weirdo or something?” He asked loudly so the group gathering to watch the exchange could hear.

  “I’m sorry brother. I meant no disrespect and it’s the last day of school. Do we really need to do this?” Cole replied, at last, hoping that maybe he could dissuade the possibility of the coming fight.

  “I’m not your fucking brother!” Steve yelled in Cole’s face. Cole resisted the urge to wipe off the spittle that had landed on him.

  “Let him go, Steve,” he heard someone say softly from his left. He recognized her voice, but he chanced to look over to make sure he had heard correctly. Laila had somehow managed to work her way through the tightly packed semi-circle and came to stand to Cole’s left. Steve let him go, but it was easy to see that he was still eager to fight.

  “Let him go!? Do you want this faggot staring at you?” Steve asked looking around at the audience that had come together. Some called for Steve to let Cole go on his way, but an equal number practically begged for the fight.

  Cole was tense and humiliated. His eyes inadvertently shifted to Laila for a brief moment before he returned his attention to Steve. His face was red and he was practically shaking,

  Laila left Cole’s side and put herself between him and Steve. She grabbed him by both shoulders speaking softly. “Calm down baby, let’s go.”

  Cole looked down in embarrassment knowing the girl that he adored had just saved him from a brutal beating at the hands of her boyfriend. He sighed and noticed Laila give him a reassuring nod and a look of pure sympathy that he didn’t expect.

  Stephen noticed the gesture and snapped almost instantly. He pushed Laila towards Cole. “You want to protect him?” He shouted. “I should have expected this from a stupid bitch whore!”

  Cole uncharacteristically ripped himself away from the wall hooking Stephen in the face with all the strength he could muster. Steve fell to the ground stunned for a brief second. The crowd was silently in awe and Cole looked at his offending fist in astonishment. Steve collected himself and was up quickly. He came at Cole filled with a murderous rage. With what seemed like unnatural reflexes, he shoved Cole hard against the wall, using his left hand to grab Cole’s throat and his right to punch him square in the nose. Cole felt blood gushing after the first punch but stood his ground for as long as he could. Some of the audience cheered Stephen on yet, it seemed most were watching in awestruck silence.

  “Yeah beat his ass,” came one voice.

  “Knock that pussy out.” Another said as Cole’s face was pummeled. He faintly heard Laila yelling for Steve to stop, but her screams seemed far away. He felt as if he were sinking into the depths of a deep, dark pool of water. Around him, the world became distorted and every sound he heard grew further away…...

  * * * * *

  “Cole, if you don’t wake up we’ll have to call 911.” Distant and faint, he heard someone speaking. Seconds, maybe even minutes passed but, the urgency in the voice became more pronounced. He felt two masculine fingers press gently on his neck deftly finding his carotid artery. He heard the voice speak again.

  “I have to get to a phone.” Cole knew the voice but, he couldn’t make out who it was talking to with his eyes still closed.

  “Oh my god, is he going to be ok?” a girl’s voice questioned from right next to him, the same voice of the person who tried to stop the encounter from taking place, to begin with.

  He heard her speak again “I’ll stay with him just go do what you have to do,” she said to the other voice before he felt her hair brush across his face. “Wake up! I didn’t want you to get hurt. Why were you being so stupid?” She whispered into his ear.

  He froze from embarrassment but amidst the pain, he finally managed to open his right eye in a half wink to look over at her. His breathing was hoarse and his body felt battered all over but, he didn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “Why didn’t you just let it go?” she asked him with genuine concern made evident by her light hazel eyes glistening wetly. He reached up and tried to wipe a tear from her cheek but as soon as he brushed her skin he quickly pulled away inwardly cursing himself for this encounter.

  “He called you a whore,” Cole answered, his voice a raspy gargle of blood and spit but, through the pain, he pulled himself up on one elbow so that he could face her a little more directly.

  She brushed her dark black hair out of her face as she looked at him and smiled, “you shouldn’t have done that?” she said to him sharply as if she were a parent chastising her child but with a subtle tone of appreciation in her voice.

  Cole shrugged swallowing hard before trying to speak again, “I didn’t mean to start a fight with your boyfriend and I’m sorry he called you that.” He said empathetically and feeling guilty in the process. Why couldn’t he just have left his thoughts for her alone he thought quietly in spite of the fact that he was enjoying every minute he was having with her.

  “Look, Cole, it’s ok. He’s just territorial is all and sometimes he can be a jerk.” She said looking away from him. Cole hesitantly touched her hand that was now resting on the ground close to his.

  She looked at him again and he locked his eyes with hers, “You’re not a whore and no one should call you one,” he said. His cheeks flushed and he looked down, inwardly requiring a few moments before he could meet her gaze again. Her cheeks were flushed as if she too had been embarrassed by the statement but she still smiled.

  “Well thank you for your kind words” she managed, at last, taking her hand from underneath to grasp his “and for sticking up for me, but you still shouldn’t have done that.”

  Cole nodded feeling ashamed as he did so, “I couldn’t have done anything less but I’m sorry if I caused you any problems.” He said, at last, reluctantly pulling his hand from hers. “I just hope you’re ok.” He finished, pushing himself up to a sitting position against the hard stucco wall. Laila took a seat next to him. They both sat in silence looking out at the blacktop for some time before Cole realized that he couldn’t think of another time that he had felt so unlucky. Here was the girl of his dreams right next to him but she was with him out of sympathy and nothing more. After several minutes of silence, he blurted “Where is everyone else?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn towards him, “Well most everybody has gone back inside, you were out for about fifteen minutes and recess is over. I opted to stay with you and the principal is in the office calling the paramedics.” She said pausing briefly before continuing on. “We were worried about you… well, I was worried about you,” she said sheepishly before returning her gaze once again to the blacktop courtyard before them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, at last, using the wall to help work himself up to his feet. A wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him and he pressed tightly against the wall for balance. Attempting to s
ound assuring he looked down at her, “I’m not waiting for the paramedics, I think I’ll just go home.” She looked at him questioningly and he found the heated flush of embarrassment returning to his cheeks, “It’s the end of the year anyway. What can they do, suspend me?” He glanced away from her and pretended to survey the blacktop. “Thanks again for sticking with me,” he said as somewhat of an afterthought. He cursed himself inwardly for his tone, thinking he sounded ungrateful but, he wanted her wholly and not just her sympathy. He shrugged absently becoming aware that if he lingered much longer he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from admitting the truth.

  “Let me walk with you then,” she offered putting her hand out for him to help her up. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet before shaking his head.

  “It’s ok. You better get back to class. I’ll be fine,” he said still holding her hand lightly in his, “Have a good summer, Laila.” He smiled, reluctantly letting go of her as he turned around and began to walk away.

  “Can I come by over the summer?” she asked causing him to pause in mid-stride to look at her over his shoulder.

  “You know where I live,” he said half turning back to her, “and you’re always welcome at my house,” he didn’t want to hint at how important the simple statement made him feel but, he didn’t want to give her the impression that he didn’t care either.

  “Maybe I’ll see you then?” she asked.

  “Hope so.” He replied before continuing on. “Thanks again Laila,” he whispered to himself and he walked out of sight and off of school grounds.

  * * * * *

  Cole lived only a few blocks from school and found the house empty when he walked inside. The house was small but he and his brother both had their own rooms and he found he didn’t mind living in the duplex as it was so close to the school. He cursed himself for rewarding the happiness that Laila brought him today by leaving her behind. He thought about what might have happened had he invited her to come along with him. Fantasizing about holding her in his arms and being able to kiss her as only a lover would but, he quickly discounted the possibility knowing that she had come to his side out of sympathy, nothing more. He went to his room and opened his closet where he concealed an old computer desk. He opened the singular drawer to his right and reached in pulling out a small orange binder he had kept for years. It was his journal and he felt he needed to get his thoughts down on paper before they went stale in his mind. With his mindset he began to write:

  Last day of school and the start of summer, I sit here alone in my small cubby writing my feelings because I don’t think I can express them the way they need to be expressed without the use of a pen. I got into a fight and my face still stings from being beaten so badly but, I was finally able to spend more than a moment talking to Laila Hardcastle. I can’t help but feel like a jerk since I walked away from her after she spent time with me trying to make sure I was ok after I was beaten by her boyfriend. He doesn’t deserve a girl like her. If I could describe it, waking up next to her was more than I could ever ask for even though the circumstances weren’t exactly how I wished they could be. Holding her hand, no matter how brief allowed me to feel for one moment that maybe I could be something more in her eyes however, I know the thought is nothing more than a passing dream. Why do I not allow myself to ever be the possibility of something more? I know I adore her but I can’t seem to find the words to tell her even though the opportunity was in plain sight right before me. I guess I know that she’s somewhat popular with a popular boyfriend but I am just me. I wish that were enough but truthfully I don’t think so and I couldn’t ask her to settle for less than whatever she wants in life. She deserves to be happy and although I would do everything in my power to see her content all the time I don’t think that I deserve her nor could I ask her to give herself over to someone like me. She deserves the world and I couldn’t give her all that she deserves. I find myself hoping even now that I do see her over the summer. She has been my secret love since second grade and even now I see her as only that. Forever nothing more than ‘my secret love.’

  He pushed his journal aside glancing over it one final time before walking to his bed. He laid down and stared at the ceiling holding his left hand with his right simply imagining that Laila was there with him in the quiet of midday all alone. Although he wanted to know her and become something special in her life much like he had assumed he would when they were kids, he found that he would be just as content to have just another five minutes with her. He’d known her for almost ten years now and still, she made him feel nervous and shy beyond belief but that’s what he liked about her. She was a shapely young woman already blossoming wholly only halfway through her teens. He admired her intelligence. She had maintained the honor roll for several years in a row yet, it never seemed to diminish her popularity. Quite simply, that was an amazing trait. He believed she could do better than Stephen, much better and very easily. Since the second grade they had only spoke lightly in passing, simple hellos here and there and the occasional group projects they had been placed in during school, however, he kept mainly to himself during those times. His mind trailed a little further and he began to reminisce about the day’s events. She was genuinely concerned about him, the only one it seemed, the only one that mattered. She had stepped up for him when everyone else was happy to see him taken down and he found that this realization only made him want her more. She had forsaken Stephen to stay by his side when it appeared no one else would, not that he really cared about anyone else in light of things. He turned to his side and closed his eyes keeping the image of her face close in his mind. The fight had taken more out of him than he originally thought and even though it was only midday he found that he couldn’t deny his desire to rest. “Thank you,” he whispered to the phantom image his mind conjured of her before allowing himself to drift lightly off to sleep.

  When he awoke he thought he must still be asleep due to the fact that Laila was there looking at him with an expression of hopeful concern on her face that seemed incredibly out of place. He had been dreaming. She was his girlfriend, not Stephen’s. They had shared secrets and hopes for a future they would eventually enjoy together. He wasn’t the shy unpopular kid that he was in his daily life instead, he was well known and liked by everybody. Laila was always close and there was never an air of trepidation between them. He rubbed his eyes and unconsciously said “I love you,” before he realized that the young woman standing over him wasn’t some dream induced hallucination. He winced when a shy smile came over her. “I’m sorry I was having a dream,” he admitted honestly trying to take the focus away from his sudden confession.

  “I know. You talk in your sleep.” She said allowing him to discount his last proclamation.

  He flushed, embarrassed again as she sat down next to him sliding his red backpack off her shoulder and on to the floor. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting with his back against the wall and looked at her quizzically, “What time is it?” He asked trying to hide a yawn within his cupped hands as he did so.

  “A little after three.” She replied, “No one answered the door but it was unlocked so I let myself in. Schools out but you left this behind so I figured I’d come by and drop it off.” She motioned towards the backpack as she spoke.

  “Thank you,” he muttered softly still trying to get his bearings. How much had he said in his sleep? Why, of all the things he could have said, did he say “I love you” upon waking up? He berated himself internally hoping she wouldn’t catch on but he couldn’t hide the elation he felt having her there. She reached towards his face which his natural reaction was to recoil but instead he managed to hold himself in place as she brushed his cheek.

  “You should really wash the blood off,” she remarked gently running her fingers along the lines of his swollen face. For a moment he reveled, feeling the light prickle of his skin as her fingers moved gently across it. “Are you ok?” she asked at last. He rubbed his eyes taking a second to respond, he
was in his own environment and didn’t feel quite so nervous.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” he said with a reassuring smile. She knew he definitely was not ‘good’ but, she accepted his answer if only to save his pride. When she responded with her own warm smile he thought he might lose every inhibition he had ever felt around her in an instant but, she slowly withdrew her hand from his face.

  “Go wash yourself up. I’ll wait here,” she said and he waited a moment longer before he pulled himself from his bed and walked to the door of his bedroom, stopping once to glance back at her before going into the bathroom across the hall.

  He dipped his hands into the warm sink and gingerly washed the crusted blood from under his nose and left eye where a small gash had opened. He thought of how surprisingly perfect he felt in that instant. The girl of his dreams was in his house, in his room, and she had come to bring him his backpack and her concern for no other reason than she seemed to genuinely care. When all the blood that he could safely remove from his face without opening up the freshly formed scab across his left eye was washed away he looked into the mirror and grinned from ear to ear. As far as he was concerned he was the luckiest guy in the world.

  “Don’t screw this up,” he whispered silently to his mirror image and pleaded with himself to try to be as normal as possible even though his shyness still seemed quite evident, even to him. After a brief moment of counseling, he pulled himself away from the sink and walked back towards his bedroom. She was standing in front of the closet, left open with his journal on the desk, open and in plain sight. He stopped abruptly when she turned to face him, afraid that his secret had been revealed and that she would never let him live it down. ‘Great,’ he thought as he looked at her, ‘now she thinks you’re an obsessed psycho.’ He walked in passed her and nonchalantly closed the closet.