kaffeeliebhaberin

[kaffeeliebhaberin]

Wings of the Night

Warning: Mentioning of bullying, depression, suicide and homophobia. If you don't feel comfortable with any of these topics, please don't read the short story. Also, English is only my second language. So there might be some mistakes. Words: ~ 1.400 Caption: Tim spent the day with his best friend Steven playing computer games. But today Tim didn't perform well, and Steve noticed. The reason behind it was the secret Tim had kept from Steve for a long time, now finally being ready to tell him about it. However, the teenage boy reacted differently from what Tim had hoped for.

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I sat there, my best friend right next to me, and I was hella nervous. "Headshot!", he shouted and I jumped because of the exclaim. I didn't intend to and it was unusual for me to act this way. Normally I wouldn't mind the most terrifying horror movies, but today was different. The reason I wanted to meet him was different. I never wanted to have a joyful time with him today, it had to be more honest, more serious. More straight. But I needed an opener, so what could I have chosen other than our favourite hobby? "Damn it, Tim! You're gonna get us killed! If you're not feelin' it, we can play this game another time.", Steven suggested. But again, I was caught up in my own mind. I wasn't focused. And he noticed. I wanted to seem normal so badly, but the thing I wanted to tell him about could change everything. The secret I kept from him for years could end our entire friendship, and that was one of the last things I wanted to happen. I could feel the stare of the slightly older boy, could see it from the corner of my blue eye.  I felt so horribly uneasy, and I knew that he knew how I felt. He could read me like a book, that's how close we were. I mean, we've known each other for five God damn years. How could I be such a bad friend and not trust him? Because I didn't know how he would react. "What's up, buddy? Just spit it out!" He almost forced me to feel bad about myself with that sentence. And it worked perfectly fine. I felt miserable. It was hard to look him in the eye, but I needed to do so. I forced myself to build up the courage. And then, without me realising it, my mouth started to move. My lips and my tongue, even my vocal cords worked together, formed a unit. But my conscious mind was left out. Only when I heard my own words, I understood what I was saying. "I'm gay, Steve." He looked at me with a blank expression at first. Was that good or bad? Then the look on his face became dead serious. "You're kiddin', are ya?", he spat out, and I heard the disgust in his voice. It was so thick and real, it almost fell like a drop of oil on the ground of my bedroom. Tinted it in jet black. I didn't know how to react. I have played through every single scenario, but this one I have left out. I was simply too afraid to imagine that he would find my sexuality nasty, but I should have known better. "You really are not joking.", he said, sounding almost disappointed. He punctuated every single word of his, gave it more depth, more seriousness. "I'd rather not waste my time with you anymore.", he said. Then he stood up, took his jacket and left the room. He never looked at me once, and I hoped he would never do it again. The way he reacted made it more than clear that there wasn't any interest in spending any more time with me. I let myself fall onto my bed, the mattress bouncing a bit under this sudden movement. Was I really that wrong? That disgusting? That unacceptable? God, he didn't even see me as human anymore. How could I be so stupid? How could I trust him so much? I regretted telling him. It was most likely the biggest mistake I've made in my whole, seventeen-year-long life. Or... maybe there was one single thing I regretted more. Being the way I was: gay. Not normal.

The next day I almost called in sick. Technically, I really felt sick. But that would have not been accepted by my highschool. I was sick of seeing humans. I had to force myself to get out of bed and the rest of the morning wasn't easier for me either. It was as if I already knew what I had to face this day. Steven had removed me from the class chat, and I knew that by eight o'clock in the morning the whole school knew my secret. My stomach was upset by the terror and my heart was beating so fast, I felt as if I almost had a heart attack. I could barely feel my trembling hands, as I  reached for the doorknob, which would ultimately lead me to the floor of the very conservative school. My knees were weak, but I wouldn't let myself have a full-on panic attack while laying on the icy stairs to my school. I pressed my lips into a straight line, as I pushed the door open. Only a couple students were standing in the hallway since the first period had almost begun. As I walked to my locker I felt every single pair of eyes that looked - glared - at me. They talked behind their hands as I walked past them, some even pointed their finger at me. I hurried to take out my books, wanting this moment to get over with. I took a deep breath, before closing the locker once again and turning around. The eyes stared at me with disapproval and they wanted me to see it. I tried to ignore them, heading to my classroom. As soon as I saw his self-assured expression, I wanted to turn around and flee back to my bed, my safe place, my home. But I didn't want to give him that accomplishment. He didn't deserve it. "Hey, queen!", he shouted through the whole room and if anyone hadn't been staring at me before, I would now for sure have all the attention. I looked at my feet, suddenly unable to walk or speak. I didn't have any confidence, any strengths, left. I wasn't ready to face such treatment. The brown-haired teenager pushed me back. My back hid the wall behind me, a sharp pain rushed through my spine. I begged the Lord silently, even though I've never been religious. I wasn't strong, my skinny arms barely held any muscle, so I could never ever fight back. I couldn't voice myself. I could only hope that Mr Jensen would get to class on time. The next thing I knew was that I hid the floor.

And now here I'm sitting. Reminiscing my past year of troublesome life in school. That was the first day the bullying started, and now I swore to me to never let that happen again. I wasn't strong enough to endure it again. The agony, the loneliness still overwhelmed me every single night I'd cry myself to sleep. Even the darkness of the night was never comforting, today being an exception. I was calm, relaxed, and in some weird way happy. My legs hung down the roof of the gigantic car park, the cold air brushing trough my thin, blond hair. The wind made a mess out of them, but I didn't mind. I looked down at all the people rushing on the street, kinda feeling sorry for them. They hustled, already taking out their umbrellas as the dark grey clouds started to growl and rumble. I didn't mind. Normally I would have been terrified by the height, worried I might fall down. But again, I was completely calm. I felt like a small baby being held tightly inside their mothers loving embrace. The icy raindrop hit my hairline and run down my forehead, and finally passing my cheek. It got mixed up with the hot tear running down my face. I got chills as more and more drops cooled down my body, dampened my shirt and jeans. I didn't mind. I peeked over the edge again, seeing that less and fewer people were running down the pedestrian walk. An odd smile spread across my face. It was wide and I wasn't used to the feeling anymore. It felt asymmetrical and in a weird way desperate. Almost frantic. I felt lucky about the small number of people on the streets, about the fewer persons who could see my dehumanised body after it would hit the ground. I didn't mind. I didn't felt anxiety. I only felt positive emotions: happiness, fulfilment, joy, calm, inner peace. They send a warm cosy feeling trough my stomach and chest. I was confident about my decision, so I didn't risk another peek. I jumped. I fell. Then everything went black.