I hit him again. Again and again.
Sweat and tears streamed down my face. My mind was a blank.
My fist raised above my head in duet with my lungs as it expands and contracts with each drive of my bleeding clenched fist upon his cheekbone with my left knee pinning him down at his neck.
He deserved it. He asked for it. He deserved it.
I hit him again. Again and again.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!!!
ASSHOLE!!! YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!
I held my breath to deliver yet another tight fist into his face.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!!!
I hit him AGAIN! AGAIN AND AGAIN!
WHY do you want me to do this! WHY do you want me to give you what you deserve. WHY can’t you just not be an asshole!!!
I hit him AGAIN! AGAIN AND AGAIN!
Eventually I got tired. My momentum slowed down. Objective thoughts started flooding back into my mind. My eyes darted up and down as I looked at the damage I’ve done. He was lifeless and I gave him a final effortless slap with the remaining strength i’ve left and fell back. I sat leaning backwards with my arms stretched out to support my dripping body. The ground unbiasedly soaked up sweat, tears and blood creating an imprint of what have just happened.
I think i’ve just killed someone.
This could be the explosion my tutor warned me about.
You see, when I was in my early secondary school days, I had an Indian tutor. I addressed her as Mrs Pandian. She was old and wise. I never did give her any trouble. I respected her.
She hardly knew me as we never talked about stuff outside of school syllabus (at least from what I can remember), but one day out of the blue, she told me something that I will remember for the rest of my life.
She said “Nicholas, you are a very good boy and you have a very good heart, you keep things to yourself even when you are angry.†I was startled as no one talked to me like that before. She continued with her calm and kind voice, “I see you like a volcano, you keep on keeping things inside you. And one day, you will need to explode and if you do, a lot of people around you will get hurt. It’s not going to be nice. So don’t explode ok, ask Jesus to help you.â€
Its been more than twenty years and I’ve never forgotten those words. I think this have to be the first time someone really talked to me. I’m not just one of the children, not just one of the kids in class. I’m me and she looked thru me and she talked to me.
Till this day, i’m still keeping it all in. I take all the crap people throw at me. I smile, I try to make things better and try to look beyond everything.
I keep it all in. Again and again.
ps: This was a short piece I wrote with the purpose to submit to a friend’s magazine. I did not kill anyone in the process.
I was thinking since when my brother was Ender Wiggins
Nick. Brilliant.
God bless Mrs. Pandian.
I’m glad she said what she did. I’m glad you wrote what you did.
I believe here are some pivotal moments in our lives that we only realise in retrospect. These are divine appointments. This is grace.
Thanks for the reminder.
Bless you, sir.
One last comment about Grace (Capitalised G intentional):
“WHY do you want me to do this! WHY do you want me to give you what you deserve. WHY can’t you just not be an asshole!!!”
I’m so glad that God did not do to us what we deserve. Really. For that, I’m eternally thankful. Really.
Your dad blogger status has been called into question. Please see me at the office immediately.
(But stand far far away can?)
@DD thanks for the kind comments. Mrs Pandian is in her last days in the States and my brother and parents are making a trip down to visit her.
@Lauises, I wrote this earlier this year. Just thought I should post it up.
@Winston, kopi session in your office issit. lol. ;)