From England, With Love

On the Horizon (End)

"What on earth were you playing at!"

I lay in the hospital bed, eyes fixated to the ceiling and angry. A nurse, who has been looking after me with a grim face since our arrival, finishes bandaging my forehead where Micheal hit me and asks me how my breathing is. I nod to indicate I'm okay, and she walks off, scribbling onto a clipboard.

"Seriously Ae, I cannot fathom the level of stupidity and utter foolishness you exhibited today." My Head of Sixth Form continues lecturing me, maintaining his "you're acting like a child" narrative.

"I am so disappointed in you, you're a good kid and I don't understand what came over you..."

I don't know what happened when I passed out, all I know is when I woke up I was being wheeled through A&E on trolley bed, and Michael was being lead, firmly by the arm, elsewhere by a stern looking male nurse. My throat is sore, my neck stiff, my head pulsing and my body generally feels like someone has lined it with lead.

My teacher's yelling is hurting my head more than it already does, and he hasn't even given me the time of day to explain myself. I just want to be back in my apartment watching a movie with Pete. No scratch that; I just want Pete. There's only so much more of this I can take before I lose my mind.

He rises from his chair, starting another period of pacing.

"You can't just punch someone because they upset you – what's going to happen to you in the real world if you do that, huh? You'll go to prison for assault!"

That last word bugs me more than anything he's shouted at me since I woke up.

"Assault?" I say, lowly, shuffling to an upright position in my bed.

"Young man, are you talking back to me?" The teacher stops and raises an eyebrow.

"Sir, please can you listen to me?" I maintain eye contact with him, trying to convey my frustration and desperation. He stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Fine. Tell me then Ae, what justifies this inexcusable behaviour?"

I swallow, knowing what words I need to say, but not confident in my ability to utter them without breaking down – and it's not even my trauma.

"You said 'assault' but... but, that's exactly why I had to do what I did." Now, more than ever, I need to pick my words with the utmost care.

"You're not making sense," he says, impatient.

"At the ball, back at Christmas, Pete-" I try to explain, balling up the edges of the plastic-like hospital blanket in my fists.

"Pete? What does he have to do with this." His refusal to listen to me frustrates me even more, but suddenly, the Sixth Form Secretary appears by his side clutching a smart phone. She speaks in a low voice, glancing at me with concern in her eyes.

"Steven, you need to see this." She hands him the phone and he tosses me a look that reads "I'm not done yet" before playing the video on the screen. It's shaky, and loud. I hear kids cheering and the distinct shouting of Michael and myself. I hear once again the slurs that bastard hurled at me, and the sound of bodies hitting the floor in what I can only guess is our fight. Both staff watch the video, highly concerned, but something in particular makes my teacher's face fall.

"You see, I just want to make that fucking twink squirm - he's got such a good ass and soon he'll know what real dick feels like."

He quickly pauses the video having seen enough, and turns to me with a much more serious expression. He looks up for a second, searching for the right words, and while part of me feels relieved... and slightly smug that he's having to eat his words, I also feel nauseous hearing Pete spoken about like that.