BANG! SLAP!

Ever since I was little, I was constantly bullied. Whether it was my hair, or my clothes, or my calm manner, I wasn’t aware of the trigger. It was like a pack of rabid wolfs targeting a small dog that wasn’t afraid of death. The older I got, the older the bullies got. The older they got, the more dangerous they got. One time, in my second year of junior high, they brought a knife to school. They pierced my arm. The next summer, they sliced a mole off. The next winter, the tried to cut my ear off. Then Max came.

The four bullies had me pinned me to the wall and pulled out a knife. He started at the bottom, and worked his way up. By the time the cut was about two centimeters, Max came running over. He punched the one with the knife right in the nose. Another approached him and got it in the jaw. The other two approached him, hesitant. Max began to run towards them, and they ran away.

Once all four were out of sight, Max turned over to me.

“Your ear is bleeding” he said nonchalantly.

I stood there for a second, stunned. I reached up to my ear to be met with a stinging bleeding cut. It was bad- I could tell by touching it- but I stayed calm. It was less of calm though, and more of composed shock.

Max approached my frozen self, and handed me a handkerchief. I held it in my hand, stilling staring at Max. He scoffed, but in a chuckle kind of way, and grabbed my hand. Max raised the handkerchief up to my ear and held my hand there.

Later on, Max kinda followed me. Not in the creepy stalker kind of way. But almost in the older brother, or guardian protector kind of way. If anyone did so much as look at me wrong, he gave them piercing glares that looked as if they would set on fire if Max stared any longer.

When the last bell shrilled through the wrung out brains of all the mopey high schoolers, I began to walk home. It took me a moment, but I realized that Max was following me. I wasn’t freaked out at all. I wasn’t even surprised. I felt comfortable with Max there. He made me feel safe. When I got home, Max continued on the road, past my house, without stopping or slowing down.

The next day was a repeat. As well as the day after that, and so on. This continued all throughout high school too. The interesting part is that I have never spoken a word to him. Max has only spoken to me once, to tell me that I was bleeding on the day we met.

Then ever so suddenly, he just disappeared. Max didn’t apear all day long, and I never saw him while walking home either. It continued on like that for four weeks, before I finally found out what happened to Max.

I had just gotten home after another exhausting day at school. Since Max hasn’t been to school, the bullies weren’t afraid to pick on me anymore. I went straight to my room, practically jogging. I plopped down my bag and began my homework.

An hour later, I emerged from my secluded dungeon to grabbed some water. When I passed through the living room to get to the kitchen, something stopped me. My dad was watching the news, and there was a big picture right in a center. I froze, too shocked too do anything but stand there. It was Max, and it said they found his body in the woods. They said he had a stab wound to the stomach, and he had likely been dead for four weeks now. I broke down a cried. I was on my knees, sobbing for some unknown reason. What was truly perplexing was the connection I felt to him, hence the shock-lead emotions I felt. I’ve spoken none to this man yet grieved as if Max were family. He didn’t even feel like family. So why was this? Why did I feel this way? Why couldn’t I control my emotions? When will it stop? The questions uncomfortably outweighed the answers. I was stuck, and I didn’t even know how or why. I just felt it. I just had a feeling that I was.

So to answer your question, I can’t. I can not answer your question. I have no idea of how to “get out”. I don’t even know how to define the question at hand. Max is gone, and I am alone. No need to feel bad for me though- I’m used to this. This, is exactly how my life was before Max came along. It is troubling that I will never know what he saw in me, or why he followed me like he did. It’s just another thing to add to the infinite list of questions. As for self help, I have none. Unless you count the affirmation I tell my self everyday:

Max is gone.