Madness and Memory

The moon shown down on the house party, what started off as a dozen people escalated to near a hundred within two hours. Everyone fresh out of high school graduation, trying to end their senior year with a big bang. That’s actually why I was there.

I was admittedly invisible, never had any problems, kept to myself, never got into any fights, almost didn’t have any enemies. Pretty rare for a senior. But I still wanted to end my year with a bang as well. What better way than to go to a party.

But it’s not about just going to the party to say I went, it’s more about who’s there. There’s someone I wanted to see, someone who had been apart of my life since preschool. Joey Dirgewaller. The man who took it upon himself to be my bully.

From simply stealing my school supplies and breaking them, pushing me as he walked past, up to beating me while I walked home. He was a monster, gaining a sick pleasure in my suffering.

That’s why I was there. Everyone watched some movie where the underdog stands up to the bully and has a happy ending right? Well I’d assume that was horse crap. Besides, I had a nice plan going for me. Joey would always be at a party no matter what day of the week, it was his thing to do. He’d show up, get drunk, then drive off. Occasionally with a woman. And that’s what made him such an easy target.

He was an alcoholic. He couldn’t control himself when it came to drinking, and on top of that he was a bully. So I stood there on the porch, with an open beer in my hand, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he walked to the house. And just as expected, he took the beer from me. I remember him laughing as I lowered my head. It took everything in my power to prevent my smile from showing.

He went inside calling to his friends, and I followed at a respectful distance. Any room he went into, I stood close by listening to him laughing and shouting from the doorway, observing how he continued to drink everything he could get his hands on. Yet he never got drunk.

Where others tipped and swayed, he stood tall with a smile. Although he drank more than anyone else there without a doubt, he was one of the only people with a clear mind, and I knew exactly why… Revia. Revia is a naltrexone hydrochloride tablet that takes away the effects alcohol has. Physically, Joey felt fine. Mentally, Joey felt fine. But internally, he was succumbing to alcohol poisoning.

I saw the signs on him, I watched his skin turn pale, and observed as he leaned against the kitchen counter, breathing deep and slow. Finally the time came when he broke from the others and headed up stairs, pushing past crowds of people, clearing a path for me as well. He went looking for one of the bedrooms that wasn’t occupied by highschool sweethearts, and luckily for me, he found one.

I gave it time before I followed him to the room, leaning against the wall, nodding to those who passed by me. Counting my minutes down. Enough time had passed where I felt comfortable entering, and upon doing so I saw the poor soul laying on his side upon the floor. He hadn’t even managed to make it to the bed before he fell unconscious.

Locking the door behind me as I entered the room, I leaned down and gave him a few gentle shakes to make sure he was gone. And he was. His skin was turning blue and was cold to the touch. I looked at my watch and counted his breaths… Seven… Seven breaths a minute. Perfect. I pushed him off his side and onto his back, before moving myself to the bed to take a seat.

With crossed arms I waited. Recalling every bruise on my body, every foul name, every day I woke up in dread knowing I would have to go to school and meet this man. Every night I shed tears hating myself for being a target. I remembered everything while I stared at him. Honestly I had the urge to smother him with a pillow, but that would make me a murderer. Instead, I was a bystander. A witness to this man’s final moments.

As those thoughts were crossing my mind, Joey began to vomit upon himself, unable to clear his throat due to me being on his back. He would choke on his own filth, a perfect end for someone as disgusting as him. My little plot that I fantasized about had unfolded so perfectly.

The scourge of my school was now struggling to breathe through his own vomit. And I had the power over him, the power to save him or damn him. And I knew what I wanted. With one final glance at the once proud bully, I smiled as I closed the door behind me. It would look like an accident. Simple highschool graduate who drank too much. After all, I did nothing wrong. I was just a bystander.

  • Puddin Tane

    Only one problem with your story, you had your person being on the victim’s back while the victim choked on his own vomit. Otherwise, I loved it. Every bullied person’s dream come true. I was picturing a parent in the same situation. Only problem is, I would never get that lucky.