I wanted to blame the jackass at the ATM for bringing this shit storm down upon my head. If he hadn’t tried to rob us all, the girl he shot would still be alive and I wouldn’t feel so miserable.
Then again she might still be alive if I hadn’t reacted like the frightened little boy I had been and maybe still was. If Georgie hadn’t spent years tormenting me, picking, poking and prodding me, she might still be walking.
Maybe if I would have learned how to deal with the bullying I could have stopped myself from just reacting.
Goddamn Georgie, he was dead too. Gone for years and still I could hear him mocking me, feel his presence.
They say sometimes the absence of someone is palpable. The only thing palpable about Georgie’s presence was that even in death he still walked alongside me.
She was dead because Georgie had proven to me that I was weak and lacking in value and worth. Really it was my fault.
The first time Georgie beat me I was scared. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t try to, I just let him kick and punch me. And when he stopped I looked at him through teary eyes, not sure what to expect. He gave me a handkerchief and stuck out a hand to help me up.
I was wiping the blood off of my face when he hit me again. I didn’t see it coming and when I came to I was lying…
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