Chapter 2
The next day at school was pretty shit. All of Oliver’s teachers asked him what happened to his face. He decided that a metal trophy that fell on him was good enough. He would’ve said a ball hit him in the face but he had been an avid hater of most sports his entire life. A trophy was more believable. He also woke up late and missed his bus. Staying up late to study for that biology quiz was a bad idea. He didn’t even do well on it. But the worst part of the day wasn’t the math pop quiz he bombed, or the long curly hair that made him lose his appetite at lunch. No, today Jackson had a shit day. Which meant Oliver would have a worse one.
Jackson was very simply put, Oliver’s bully. He’d been Oliver’s bully since he had come out as trans and seemed to get worse over time. It was pretty obvious to Oliver that Jackson hated him cause his parents were homophobic and probably abusive. He would’ve thought it was funny, the casualty they’d built into the routine of pain if only Jackson wasn’t berating and beating the shit out of Oliver whenever his dad got pissed.
He’d noticed it in biology. Jackson was also flunking. He actually looked as if he could cry during the quiz. Oliver texted his mom. Told her that he might stay late to study in the library. His mom would check his location on his phone so, she’d believe him this time. It’s not like Oliver didn’t try to not get bullied, but, it had been going on so long that he kind of just accepted it at this point.
He tried to get out of his last class quickly, hoping to get to his locker and get out before Jackson could catch him. Instead, his math teacher wanted to talk to him after class. Some shit about his pop quiz and after-school tutoring. Oliver really didn’t give a shit. He just needed to pass and stay alive. By the time the teacher let him go, the halls were mostly clear. He took his time on his way to his locker.
It’s never enough time though.
Jackson was waiting by the locker. Oliver opened his locker and put his stuff in. He turned to Jackson.
“So, where are we going.” It was barely a question. They used to fuck around making Jackson push him around into some secluded corner of the school but then they got caught once, Jackson got suspended and came back with a black eye and revenge on his mind. Oliver concluded it was better for both of them to just walk.
They were silent. Both of them stewing in their own thoughts. Oliver always wondered about running at this point but, he had done that enough times to know Jackson is faster than him. They ended up in the west stairwell. Oliver closed the door and turn around just to be met with Jackson's fist in his stomach.
He clutched it in pain, coughing and gasping for his breath back. “Fuck, dude. Did your dad take you to a rally again?” a month ago Jackson posted photos at a homophobic rally with his dad. He was aggressive that week.
“Shut the fuck up tranny.” Jackson pushed Oliver’s shoulder against the closed door and punched him in the stomach again. He used to punch him in the face too but people started asking questions.
“Maybe join therapy,” the little quips in between hits gave Oliver some feeling of control. “Or at least like wrestling.” Oliver wheezed.
“I’m not gay. Therapy is gay and wrestling is putting my hands all over another man. Do I look gay?” He sounded so angry all the time. It must hurt. To be that angry.
Oliver kind of just wanted this to be over already. “Do you want to be?” He looked up at Jackson and winked. Jackson hit him really hard this time. Oliver doubled over, landing wheezing on his hands and knees. This is usually how it went. Jackson started kicking now. This is when Oliver could feel how angry he was. Neither of them felt like talking much at this point. Jackson just mumbled slurs and kicked Oliver over and over in the stomach. He wouldn’t lie. It hurt. But not more than it did every other time. Oliver made his whimpering, coughing, and wheezing sounds. Jackson made his angry, grunting, half-crying sounds. Anyone listening in would think they were having kinky sex.
Finally, Jackson was done. He mumbled a few more slurs, spit on Oliver’s unmoving body and left. Oliver lay there for a while. Slowing and regulating his breathing. Then, when he was breathing fine, he just lay there for a while. He always ended up crying at some point. He was never really sure when but by the time he sat up against the wall, clutching his stomach, he had to wipe his eyes.
Somehow, he eventually made his way to the washroom. The bruises were pretty bad this time, but it’d be a bit before Jackson wanted to be this aggressive again. Oliver looked at himself in the dirty mirror. Not at his bruises, or the tear tracks. He looked into his face. Into his eyes. He wished he wouldn’t keep letting this happen. He wished he had someone to tell. Someone who would fight for him. By god, he didn’t have the energy to fight for himself anymore. He used to have friends. His mom made him stop hanging out with all of them when he came out as trans though. Came out. He didn’t come out. She found out. He knew he shouldn’t have come out at school.
It's funny, really, he thought. At this point the closest person I have in my life is Jackson. He at least knows shit about me. “Hangs out” with me outside of class. Oliver chuckles to himself, holding his stomach. He wonders what time it is. Wonders how much studying he’ll need to do to catch up with what his mom thought he has done. It wouldn’t be enough anyway. He would still disappoint her. Sometimes, in moments like these, walking back to his locker in empty halls, Oliver wished Jackson would get real angry one day and just. Kill him. It’d be easier. At this point, life hadn’t gotten better like all the forums online said it would. Life hadn’t gotten better since he’d read them years ago. High school was supposed to be the best part of your life. He shook his head as he retrieved his things from his locker. Shook away his thoughts. It was five pm. Two extra hours of studying tonight. Oliver texted his mom, and told her he was heading home now. She didn’t respond.
The bus took a while to arrive and the traffic was bad. It took him a while to get back to his neighbourhood. He kept his head down today. Music blaring loudly, sun starting to dim. He almost made it home with no disruption if that woman in the pencil skirt hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder after he stepped off the bus.
“Excuse me?” Oliver took off his headphones. The woman smiled. “Could you help me with some directions? I’m trying to meet my friend at a restaurant on King street but I can’t seem to figure out which bus route I need to take.”
“Oh yeah sure, they can be kinda confusing at first. Do you have a map?”
The woman nodded and pulled up a map of the bus routes on her phone. Oliver leaned over to try and help. The woman placed her hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver hesitated. Something felt wrong.
“Sorry, I think I’ve seen you around, what’s your name?” Oliver backed up a step and looked the woman in her eyes. The same eyes as his mother’s.
The woman smiled. “Eleanora.”
Oliver swallowed. He was just being paranoid. He leaned back over to look at the woman's phone. “Alright so you take wallwork-” Oliver very suddenly felt something stab into the side of his neck. He turned to look at the woman he had been helping. Her smile had dropped. She held some sort of epi-pen-looking thing in her hand. Then it hit him. Whatever was in the needle. Oliver had been high before. Although this felt very different from a weed high. He very suddenly couldn’t feel his feet or lips or fingers and it felt like it was spreading.
“What the fuck is that.” Oliver couldn’t tell whether or not his words were slurring or not. He took a shaky step away from the woman. The bus had left. The sun was starting to set on the edge of suburbia. Would anyone hear him if he screamed? Could he scream? He took a few more steps away from the woman. He could still more. He was still conscious.
“Those mother fuckers got the dosage wrong,” The woman fiddled with the needle and some vial from her purse. Oliver continued taking shaky steps. The woman didn’t seem too bothered. His mind felt like it was melting but he was trying very hard to stay focused on getting away from this woman. This is bad, he thought, like kidnapped and sold into human trafficking bad. Oliver saw a van driving up the street. A white van. Just like the movies, he chuckled to himself. He looked behind him. The woman finally seemed to get her needle to work. She turned towards him. Oliver started to run. He knew he wasn’t fast. He knew he was high out of his mind. He knew that if that woman caught him, his life would get significantly worse. He tried very hard to focus on his feet hitting the ground. Tried very hard to focus on propelling himself forward.
The woman caught up to him. She launched herself at his shoulders. Oliver shoved his hands against her face, against her arms, against anything that could possibly get him away. He heard the van pull up beside them.
“Get the fuck away from me you crazy bitch.” Oliver balled up his fist. Gathered what little focus he had left in his mind and hit the woman in her face. He thinks he hit her hard. She reacted as he hit her hard. They were both a little shocked he hit her at all. She recovered first and stabbed the needle straight into Oliver’s neck.
They both stared into each other’s eyes. She was waiting for him to pass out from whatever drug she had given him. He was still shocked he had hit her. Warmth filled Oliver’s brain very quickly. The warmth spread throughout his body and Oliver found himself on the ground. He also found it very hard to keep his eyes open. He had a vague notion that the people in the white van were lifting him into it. He heard, as though through a public swimming pool, the woman say. “Up the dosage for next time, we don’t want to have to risk not knocking the other kid out.”
Oliver found this really funny for some reason. Probably the drugs. He let the people in the van know, by letting out a strangled, drowning sort of laugh. “Maybe I’ve just got high tolerance.” He sounded like he was singing to himself. He hoped he wasn’t actually singing to himself but he really couldn’t be sure.
“Oh for fucks sake. Dose him again.”
Oliver felt another stab in his neck. A moment passed and then he closed his eyes.