A Telltale Heart

Censors

Math sucks. Everything sucks.

But I'm not gonna say that, because it'd be rude.

I give the teacher a practiced smile as she walks by and go back to pretending I know what I'm doing. But it's all going to be okay. I'm just going to work in the church like father. What would I need to know something useless like math? Whatever.

That faggot Todd was the one assigned to tutor me. Damn queer, why should I even have to be close to him? There should be special schools for people this sick.

The teacher told us she was going on lunch and to play nice and behave.

I smile and nod before slamming my head on the desk after she leaves.

"What's the point of trying?" I mutter. 

"I don't know, I'm not exactly enjoying this either."

"Look, just go. I'm going to inherit the church and work there."

"Hm," Todd flipped the page on the textbook. "What do you even do in your church?"

"Well we d–"

My hand flies up to my mouth and keeps me from continuing. I guess that's one of the 'things'.

The marks burn, and I can feel my face turn red. I struggle against my hand, but it's steady. Fuck.

'I'm sorry, please, I wont speak of it.'

put my hand down and picked up my pencil.

Todd looked pretty confused.

"The hell was that?"

Mentioning the 'things' was absolutely One of the 'things'.

"Nothing. Forget it."

I moved to the next question. 

"What's that on your palm?"

Fuck. Okay. Another one, pays too much damn attention.

"Birthmark. Leave it."

"Can I see?"

"Fuck off. I'm not letting your fag ass touch my hand."

Then, I left.

But, oh lucky mc-Fucking-me. The freak bumps into me. Braided hair today? Pretty. No. Shit. Damnit.

"Watch where you're fucking going, freak!"

"You bumped into me, man. Not my fault."

Annoying fucking pacifist. Won't fight me like a damn fucking man. I can't stand him, but–

I want to pull out that beautiful blue hair, chunk by chunk, blood and screams eachoing in my ears. I want to eat him whole.

I smacked him down.

"You think you're better than me, faggot?" I yelled. I put my foot on his neck. "Well, you may as well fucking repent."

"Travis!"

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking queer!"

"Stop, please! This isn't you!"

"That's enough, Mister Phelps!"

Teacher. No, no no no no. They're gonna call him. I don't know what I'm doing, but I start running. I can't face anyone right now. The teacher grabs me before I get far, though. I crumple into a ball at her feet and cover my head.

"That's enough, Mister Phelps. To the principal's office," she let go of my hand and turned to Sally Face. "Sal, honey, you can go to the nurse."

He nods quietly. I can see it in his eye, he's… crying. I'm so close to screaming at him to stop. Stop it.

I remember the note left in blue ink. Does he remember it too? Fuck. Of course he remembers it. He fucking wrote it.

I walk past the principal's office and keep going. She wants me to leave? I'll leave. I'll go wherever the fuck I want. She can't stop me. What is she going to do about it?

Fuck all, that's what.

Stupid freak. If it wasn't for him, none of this would happen. I'd be fine. I want to grab him by those stupid fucking pigtails and kick his stupid fucked up face in.

Just near the school, I go to my small spot so I can just be alone. I'm not sure why I like it, really, it's just an old shed with half the roof caved in. But it's mine. Nobody else knows it's here, as far as I know. And as long as I'm home by the time Father is, Mother doesn't care. I sit on the floor and stare at my palm. The small geometric symbol carved there makes me shudder. I hate it so much, but I know it's necessary. Father said I'm not to be trusted, and I need to be 'moderated'. Again, understandable. I always used to babble too much. It was annoying, but necessary. Just like how Father describes me.

I hum the lullaby Mother used to sing to me. I miss the days she would do that.

“
Round and round, on the head of a pin
Dancing like the angels above
Embrace the world and forgive him
Nothing in the world is for love

No matter the pain you've been through
He will save your soul
And he'll do everything for you

Roses in your throat, snapping the thorns
Goring my hope, yet you don't mourn
Everything's irrational, but this stays gospel
Without him, there's no escape from your hell
„