Young Heart, Young Life

He was walking on the sidewalk, through the leaves that had just fallen from all the trees. He was eager, ready to take on his first day of junior high. His parents owned the bakery on Baker Street in the small Boston town. They named it Bakers Bakery. His mom was pregnant with a girl, and his dad was a drunk.
He had already gotten dressed and ate breakfast. He was wearing his favorite outfit, his blue vest with his green and white plaid shirt. The school was only a couple blocks away so he walked. He could smell the bread being cooked, hear the turns of keys that unlocked the shops, and see all the kids that were on their way to their first day of school for the new school year.
It was a beautiful fall day; he just loved the ways the leaves crunched under his feet when he walked on them. It was still tourist season, and all the shops along the street were ready to get there day going. This was a happy place. The park across the street made the old town feeling a little livelier. The little kids jumped in excitement and played and the storeowners always had a smile on their face. Timothy, the little boy whose parents owned the bakery, was walking. He was as gleeful as all of the younger kids. He loved school: especially science. He wanted to go into space and fly rockets one day. He got straight A’s at school, a very bright kid, and he could not be happier.

He just loved walking in the cool breeze. For a little boy he had a warm-big heart, a heart that was large enough for everyone. His heart was so big and it was in such a tiny person. He always put others before himself, and was never mean to anyone; even if they did something mean to him. He was caring, not something you see in young Boston men. He continued his journey on to his first day of junior high, the new chapter in his life. He enjoyed elementary, but was ready to take on the challenge of his “new world.”
When he got to school he found his one friend Tommy. Tommy was a bit more popular then Timothy, but they both loved space. They were both looking forward to the New Year because there would be new teachers, a new place, and most of all new students. He had heard some rumors about the teachers that made them sound like they were mean, but since he had not met them he was not sure.
His heart was pounding inside of his chest, not because he was scared, but he was so excited and a little nervous. The bell rang and it was time for lunch. He knew he had not made any friends and he was going to sit alone, but where? If he sat in the cafeteria, then all of the kids would make fun of him for being a loner. He was sitting outside by himself because Tommy already had new friends and was sitting with them; he practically deserted little Timothy, but he could not be angry with his friend. The first day so far had been peaceful and fun, but he was lonely now. He had no friends to hang out with and talk to and he felt upset about out. He knew he would be excited for school, but when it came to lunch, the loneliness would make him sad; he did not want to go to lunch and have no one to talk to.

As he was sitting there, three larger boys, much larger then him, started walking his way. He knew they were a grade older, but why were they coming over to him? Did he do something wrong? Was he sitting in their spot? They were muscly and all of them were a little over six feet tall. They had hoodies on with black jeans. All three of them were almost dressed the same. They were very muscular guys, and Timothy figured that they were on the football or wrestling team. It seemed as if they knew who he was. He did not know their names so he just referenced them by hair color; blonde, brown, and black. They walked up to him in a fast paced motion. They knocked his food tray off of the bench and onto the floor. They were being forceful, aggressive, and provocative towards him. They began to state words like “stupid little nerd,” “you aren’t that smart,” and, “you have no friends, no one likes you. Why are you even here?” Timothy’s eyes began to fill up with tears. He had a minor scrape from where they pushed him onto the ground. They kicked him in the leg and walked off. As they were walking off he was able to peek out of the side of his eye to see a girl standing by the side of the building. She just witnessed everything that happened to him. He lied there on the stony ground with tears running down his face, but he would have to get up eventually and finish his day at school. He wiped the tears off of his face and covered up the scrape he had. He picked his food up off of the ground and continued to class.

When he got home that night he went straight to his room. He did not want to talk to his parents about his day. His mom walked in there and saw that he had some bruises on his face. He had clenched from the pain, but was not sure how obvious it was. She did not notice, but how could he expect her too. She did not care about him; she just cared about the baby girl in her stomach. He hated that baby so much. She was stealing his parent’s love and was not even born yet.

He sat through dinner staring at his plate and using his fork picking at his food. He took a few bites, considering he did not have a chance to eat all of his lunch. He was not mad; he was just upset and confused. He could not help but wonder why the kids were picking on him; he had done nothing to them. He had never even spoke to them. His muscles were sore and he had bruises all over him. He just lied there in bed that night until he fell to sleep.

He woke up the next day and felt somewhat better, but he could still feel the pain from his wounds. It was that feeling you get after you get a bruise and it hurts worse the next day, that uncomfortable feeling. He did his normal morning routine and walked to school. Now that it was the second day he figured that today would be a better. He was not as joyous and anxious to what lied ahead this day, but his heart, keeping in mind it is the heart of a child, still had merriment in it. Today he saw that little girl he got a glimpse of yesterday while he was walking to class. The little girl hat witnessed what happened to him. He went up to her and asked her what her name is. He found out her name is Jacie. He took a seat down beside her and they started talking. He could not help but bring up the incident. He requested, “I know you saw what happened yesterday, but please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know.” She could see the bruises that ran on the side of his face, but he was just going to tell people that he fell. (Although one thing she does not know is that his dad is a drunk and beats him). This was a bigger secret then getting beat up at school, and he was not going to let anyone know about it. He made Jacie pinkie promise not to tell anyone; everyone knew that you could not break a pinkie promise. They still had that little innocence in them, a young heart and a young spirit.

That day at lunch, he sat with Jacie. Jacie was a loner, kind of like him. She always had her hair in pigtail braids and she wore glasses that had a rectangular frame. She was littler then most of the other girls in the class, and the she had pretty hazel eyes. The conversations continued on when Timothy turned his head towards the door, and saw the same three guys that bullied him yesterday. He thought that there was no way they would try something with such a big “crowd.” They walked into the cafeteria, looked at him, and then continued to walk off. As long as he is not alone then he is safe. Well he was rarely alone, so he figured for the most part that he would be secure. This gave him a sensation of relief and joy; a feeling of comfort.
It was the end of school. Today is a colder day. He could feel the chills running through him as the fall air blew. The hairs on his body stood up, and he had himself bundled up in his jacket. Winter was right around the corner, but the winter weather was already kicking in. He was happy because this is his favorite time of the year, and his birthday is coming up.

He was able to finish school with it being a great day. He began to ponder as to whether or not the bullying was a one-time event. Just like everyday, he walked home; now feeling a sense of security. He was thinking about his science class because they are learning about space. He was looking at the ground watching the leaves break as he stepped on him and trying not to step on a crack, when he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. They had blue and white shoes on and when he looked over there it was one of the guys. He had found out earlier that day that the “leader” of the group is Jordan, and the other two are Adam and Hayden. Jordan started making his way over to Timothy, but Timothy did not see the other two boys. There’s no one around because he is walking through the pasture to get to his street. Timothy just continued walking, ignoring the fact that Jordan was there, but then he heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head and could see Adam and Hayden walking his direction. He thought, here we go again. He recognized he was fragile and defenseless. There was nothing he could do to stop it but try his best to fight back.

He began to pick up his pace, but the faster he went, the faster they went. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were scattered. Jordan was much faster than Timothy was and was able to catch up to him. By the time he reached him, he shoved him on the ground. The other two yanked him up back up and just shoved him around. They punched him a few times and Timothy remained there on the ground. While he lied there Jordan said, “If you ever tell anyone about this, you will suffer. I saw you talking to Jacie, and I know you told her. Don’t let it happen again.” They walked off laughing and Timothy just stayed there in excruciating pain. His head had hit one of the trees when he fell that second time and it caused a cut on his head. His eyes were red and full of tears. He isn’t crying because he is miserable, he is crying because he was terrified and wounded. Most of the hits were on his stomach, where they would be easy to hide, but the cut on his head would be difficult to hide. He did not care if his parents saw them because they would not care, but people at school would notice, and they could not find out.

He managed to gain courage to get off of the ground and continue home. He walked through Baker Street to get to his home. The kids were playing on the playground across the street, and the shops were busy. His parents were at their bakery, so he would not see them until dinner. As he walked he held his head down. He had his jacket hood over his head, his hand over the cut, and his eyes watching the ground. A part of him was ashamed to show his face. He did not want others to see what happened to him; they might make fun of him. He walked through his door and set his stuff in his room. He went to the bathroom to wash the blood off of his face and hands. The cut had quit bleeding, but it was noticeable. It would be impossible to hide.
When his parents got home from work, his mom immediately questioned him about what had happened. He told them he tripped and hit his head on a tree. Part of this was true, considering he did hit his head on a tree, but that is not how it happened. His mom simply said, “I hope this child is not as clumsy as you.” His own mom did not care and his dad was sitting on the chair, watching football, and drinking a beer. Just like always. They had dinner, but it was silent. He went to his room, but he just sat on the bed and stared at the wall. His mind was blank because he was not sure what to think. Finally he just lied down and fell asleep.

A couple of weeks had passed, and he was still getting beat up. Now he had found ways to hide it. He became secluded from the rest of the world. He still sat with Jacie, and she knew everything that was going on. Timothy learned that she lived in the same apartments as he did, and her parents owned the antique souvenir shop on Baker Street. They had become really close friends. She wanted to tell someone what she was seeing, but Timothy told her not too. She was frightened too, because Jordan knew she knew and threatened her that if she told anyone she would be next. They were both two loners that only had each other to talk to.

One day he finally told the principal what had been going on and he suspended all three of the kids that had been bullying Timothy. They were not allowed to come back until the Christmas/New Year’s holiday break was over. He was safe until then. They were not hitting him harder, just pushing and shoving him around. Occasionally they would punch him in his stomach, or kick him. All of his noticeable wounds were caused from where he was hitting the ground. Everyday was always the same since the beginning of school, to where he was expecting them to do it. He would go to school and have a great day, then walk home get beat up, then get home, explain to his parents why he was bleeding, eat dinner, do homework, and go to bed; this was a daily routine. Nothing motivated him anymore unless he did something involving space. This was his peace, what still caused him enjoyment. He no longer played at the park, and the only person he talked to was Jacie.

The boys had been gone for a little over a month and Timothy was content with how it had been going. He was talking with friends, having fun in school, and playing in the snow. Today is his birthday, December 14th. The great thing about today is that it is snowing. Timothy loves the snow! He woke up and his parents bought him some hot chocolate from the coffee shop. He got a large cup today, because he is thirteen now. He is starting to grow up. He walked to school feeling the warmth of his drink, but feeling the snow as it landed on his jacket. Now he walked to school with Jacie. They made snow angels, had a snowball fight, and even made a tiny snowman. It was a joyous day today, and he did not even have to worry about getting bullied. When he got home he got to open his present. His parents got him the Science: Advanced Rocket Making Volume 4 book and rocket making kit. This is what he wanted and what he asked for; he absolutely loved it! In this kit, you create and design a rocket from scratch, and you can even launch it 1,000 feet into the air. This was his greatest birthday ever, and it was the happiest that he had been in a while.

Time passed at school, and the Christmas/New Year break was over. Tomorrow is Monday and it was the day Jordan and his crew came back to school. Timothy was afraid because they know he told the principal, and he was not sure what they would do to him. Jacie kept reassuring him that he would be okay, but he could hear the concern and discomfort in her voice; the uncertainty that she partook. He knew they would not do anything to him at school, but when he walked home he was not safe. After school ended that day he stayed a little longer. He was building up the courage to leave the building. He stayed in his science teacher’s room for an hour and finished his homework. Eventually they told him that it was time to leave and go home.

Today he ran home. He ran as fast as he could. It was only 3 blocks away; maybe he could make it, maybe he couldn’t. Well he managed to make it through the pasture, which is where they would always beat him up, so it gave him hope that he was safe today. He was able to make it home, and nothing happened. After a week, nothing happened. Timothy had actually semi forgotten about them. (He could not erase them from his memory, but he was no longer worried about them hitting him.) It had been a couple of weeks and nothing happened. They have not came up to him and confronted him yet, even though they knew he told the principal.

Well the 3rd week of school it happened. He was walking home and made it to the pasture. There were trees around, which is why they chose to hit him here. He was near the end of the pasture when Adam and Hayden came down from one of the trees; they have never hidden in the trees because they usually came out from behind him. Adam and Hayden grasped him and hauled him into the alley. Jordan was standing in the alley with his arms crossed and he was leaning up against the trashcan. Timothy tried to break free of the others two guys grip, but it did not work. Timothy was not strong enough to get free, but for once he was actually trying. He knew that this time was going to be bad for a couple of reasons; one he told on them, two they took him into the alley instead of just doing it in the pasture like usual, and three they put it off for three weeks knowing that Timothy would begin to think that they would no longer do it.

It was weird this time though; much different then all of the other times. It was like something that you would see in a movie, or to Timothy it was. Adam and Hayden were holding him up. Jordan did not push him onto the ground this time, where he could protect part of him using the grass or concrete. He was in the alley; rocks were everywhere, glass on the ground, fences that blocked in the houses, trash on the ground, and no one around. Jordan walked up to Timothy in that “cool kid” walk, and stopped right in front of him. Jordan took a pause, like he was waiting for Timothy to say something, stand up for himself, anything. That is what Jordan wanted him to do, but anything that Timothy wanted to say was just a thought in his head; words that he would never have the courage to say. He wanted to tell them to leave him alone, but he was so terrified that he was shaking.

After those few moments Jordan finally opened his mouth. He looked Timothy straight in the eyes and said, “I know you told. You got me and my boys in trouble. This time I will teach you a lesson, a lesson that will teach you that you keep your mouth shut.” Timothy put his head down and was crying before they even touched him. Would Jordan and his crew really kill him? They could not do that could they? He watched Jordan bring his arm back, and curl his hand into a fist. Most of the time he closed his eyes but this time he was watching; he stood there like he had been petrified by the situation. Jordan’s fist went right into his ribs. Timothy cringed in pain; he was not able to fall to the ground for a little moment of relief because he was being held. He could hardly bend over. Jordan kept swinging and hitting and punching. Adam and Hayden were laughing because Timothy was helpless and defenseless.

It was like they did a swap with him. Adam and Hayden hurled Timothy over to Jordan and kicked him onto the ground. Timothy tried to stand and make a run for it, but his legs were wobbling and he was not able to get his balance. This time Jordan grabbed both of his hands and put them together behind his back and pulled him up from the ground. There was a loud pop, and Timothy screeched in pain. Something happened to his left shoulders, and a wave of pain rushed through his body, it made his arm sore and he couldn’t help but let the tears fall out of his eyes. He was in excruciating pain, which gave Jordan and his crew joy, but yet it was still not enough for what he had done to them. They knew the pain in his shoulder was agonizing, yet they were continuing to hit him. Adam and Hayden were having their turn at him. Jordan held him, and had his arms tight up against his body. They continued to punch him, and Adam kicked him. He kicked him in the knees, and Hayden was hitting him in the stomach and chest. Finally Jordan released his hands and threw Timothy back onto the ground. While Timothy lied there on the ground, Hayden sat on him while Jordan and Adam kicked him in the face, legs, and torso. He had fallen on a few rocks, which might have caused his nose to break, and it caused a gash in his lip. Blood was going everywhere. The blood from his nose, the blood from his lip, and he had landed on some glass and it cut his knee open. Finally they quit hitting; Timothy lied there. He could not get up. He felt something hitting him. Starting off light and getting harder. It was rocks, small rocks to big rocks. They walked off to go get some rocks and they were throwing them at him. They stepped on his hands and cracked his knuckles; they knew if he had no use of his hands he could not make rockets. They just destroyed his last happiness.

What else could he do? It was pointless now. His knee was cut open and you could see the bone. His head and hair was covered in blood, the bruises had already formed over his body. His breathing was irregular and he was probably loosing blood faster then what he could gain it. Who knows what else could be wrong with him? This was all that he could see. He heard a faint voice in the background. He could not make up the words and who it was. He had fainted. Now the world was black; pitch black. There was not a single tiny hole that shined light through it, or cheerfulness.
His eyes squinted as he began to open his eyes. He opened them a little bit and the bright light shined through. It sent a shock of pain through his eyes and he quickly closed them. He put his hands over his eyes and rubbed them. He slowly opened them and let the light in little by little. It took a few moments, but his eyes finally adjusted to the light.
He looked around and the first think that he noticed was he was in a hospital room. He had an I.V. in his right arm. He had just gained consciousness, so he was slowly gaining memory of what happened. The first thing he felt was the sharp, shooting pain in his shoulder. It had been wrapped with bandage, and was resting in a sling. His whole body hurt, but his knee was propped up on a pillow and he could feel something on his face. Around his ribcage was also wrapped; at this point he might as well be in a full body cast. The memories came back and his body recoiled at the thought of it. He remembered it so vividly that he felt like he was reliving it: every hit, laugh, word, and injury. He would be left with the scars forever, and the memories of the horrendous event would forever be locked in his brain.
He turned his head to the corner of the room and his parents were sitting there. They both had an unhappy expression on their face. Were they mad or upset because he was in the hospital? Did they know why he was there or were they left guessing? His mom stood up and walked over to him and said, “ I don’t know what happened yesterday, but whatever it is, it better not happen again. We cannot afford it.” Then she stormed out of the room. With her saving up money for this new baby, there was no extra money, but she could have asked if he was okay. Then it was just Timothy and his dad left. The room was quiet; the only thing you could hear was the beep from the patient monitor, and the breathing of Timothy and his dad.
Timothy’s dad stumbled over to him, he had probably gotten drunk overnight, but this was nothing strange or uneven. “We have other things to worry about, other then you being a wimp and getting beat up. I know you got beat up, but your mother is unaware so don’t tell her,” his dad said as he smacked him in the face and walked out of the room. You could smell the whiskey in his breath. He was drunk more today then he was most days. Timothy was helpless, just lying in the bed. His knee was fully wrapped and he had to get forty-two stitches in it. He got five stitches in his lip, and his nose had the tape bandage. Not to mention the fact that both of his hands had cracked knuckles and bones. This was the kind of physical pain and emotional pain that can cause a little boy to go crazy, or just exclude him from the world.
A week after the incident he finally got to go back home. He has not seen his parents since that day at the hospital. The thing was, he was helpless and did not care that they did not come to visit him. He could not walk because of his knee, he could not make sudden movements because of some broken bones in his rib, he could not use one arm because of his shoulder, and he was to ashamed to look at his face because of the injuries and the humiliation. All he could do was lie in bed and watch T.V. or read a book. He had no use of his hands to make a rocket or hold anything. He could only take so much of the medicine, and it did not get rid of all of the pain.
Everyday Timothy cried. He wept because he had nothing to live for; he even quit talking to Jacie. He stayed in his room all day. He quit going to school and was afraid to step out of his front door. His home was his only safe place, and he was his only friend. He had only been home for three days and every day he cried. He felt sorry for himself because he let it get to him. He let them treat him like that. He let them bother him. To him there was no happiness. Not even a rocket gave him joy. One day he finally decided he had enough. He managed to get his walker, and make his way to the medicine cabinet.
He saw the bottle of Acetaminophen and opened it. He stood there for a moment. He was not controlling his actions. His body and all of his pain was controlling him. His subconscious was making his decisions and it was like Timothy was in a trance. He took a handful of the Acetaminophen, not even thinking of the fact that he was allergic to them, shoved them into his mouth and swallowed. He knew nothing would happen fast, but a few minutes later he started to have an allergic reaction. His mouth and throat started to swell and his stomach felt funny. The room started spinning and he was taking long, deep breaths. Moments passed and his heart was beating so fast he could not breath to keep up with it. Soon his throat was so swelled up and he was gasping his air that he quit taking breaths. He collapsed on the floor and his eyes closed. The room was silent. The only thing running was the air conditioning. Timothy lied there on the ground in his room, dead.
His parents walked in and yelled his name but there was no answer. They both walked back to his room and opened the door. They saw Timothy on the floor, just lying there. His mom let out a loud scream and ran over to him and his dad just said, “He is napping,” and walked off. She could not hear him breathing and he was not moving. She started to cry because she knew; deep down she knew her son just died. She grabbed the phone and called 911. Later, after he was pronounced dead and they ran tests to find out what the cause of death was, she was told he committed suicide. The news was heart wrenching. She could not even bring herself to plan a funeral; she just had him cremated so she could set his ashes in his room. His soul and body would always be in this house, in his room.
Everyday since that day she sat on the floor where he lied, dead, wrapped up in bandages, covered in bruises, and a swelled up face and throat. Everyday she wept for her dead son. The bottle of Acetaminophen lied next to the heart shaped box his ashes were in. Around the box were all of the rockets that he had built, had, or the kits with all of the books about space, NASA, and rockets. She set it up as her sons shrine; it had his favorite things there. There was also a picture of Jacie. She was his only friend and she was the only one who stood by him and cared for him. These were all of the things that were important to him.
Two weeks after the incident, she had a miscarriage. All of the emotions from her son dying were unhealthy and caused her to be unable to hold another life. She had lost both of her children in less then a month; the time she had with them seemed so short. She knew she treated Timothy horrible, and she knew that there was no way she would ever get the chance to change that. To love him, to hold him, to tuck him in at bed one last time, to have another meal with him, ask him about his day, and there was not another chance. One child she never took the time to know, and one child she would never get to know. It was two young hearts lost, and two young lives gone.