The Fifth Session

“There was this kid I knew growing up-”

“You are welcome to talk about whatever it is you want, but I was hoping we could talk about you today. That is, after all, what we’re here for.”

“I want to talk about this kid.”

“Yes, that’s fine, this is your session but-”

“That’s right, my session. I’m paying for this shit, so I’m going to talk about whatever I feel like.”

“Of course, go right ahead.”

“So there was this kid I knew growing up. Kind of a dorky kid. No friends, always reading books, was really quiet, hardly ever spoke to anyone. He was fat too. Not horribly obese or anything, but fat enough that other kids would make fun of him. He rode the bus to school, seems like everybody did back in those days, and every morning when the bus pulled up in front of his house, here he’d come, all red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks. I’m telling you, just about every morning, this kid was in tears. And when he got on the bus, the other kids would laugh at him and make fun of him. Calling him a cry-baby fat-ass, little pussy, all sorts of nasty names. And they were relentless. All the way to school, they would throw things at him, slap him in the back of the head, take his stuff, spit on him, you name it. And he’d just sit there and take it. Trying his hardest to stop crying, because you know, maybe if he stopped crying like a baby, then they would leave him alone. But even if he managed to stop, they never did. Getting on that fucking bus each morning was like walking straight into hell for that kid. And you know what the funny thing is? This went on for a long time- years, and nobody, not the bus driver, not the teachers, not any of the other kids ever stopped to ask why in the hell this little kid was crying every morning. Nobody gave a shit.”

“Did you ever have any interactions with this kid?”

“Yeah, I sure did. Some years later I killed him.”

“You killed him?”

“I had to. You can’t go through life like that.”

“Like what?”

“Being a weak little shit. Being fucking pathetic and letting people beat you down like that.”

“How did you kill him?”

“It was a slow, meticulous process. I pulled him apart piece by piece and scattered him in the deepest, darkest place I could find. It was a mercy killing, he welcomed it. I tell you what though; he’s a lot tougher than I ever imagined because once in a while, when I least expect it, there he is again, peeking out from the darkness with that fat, crying little face of his.”

“And what do you do when he shows up again?”

“I drag him back on that fucking bus so he can remember why I did what I did. So he can remember that he doesn’t have a place here, that he belongs buried alongside the rest of his childhood.”

“So why was he crying every morning?”

“I don’t think that matters anymore.”

“Perhaps, but I think it’s worth asking.”

“Well, maybe, but looks like time’s about up. I gotta get moving, it’s a long commute, and I’ve got a bus to catch.”

fifth session 2

108 thoughts on “The Fifth Session

  1. Pingback: Sunshine Blogger Award (x2) – The Haunted Wordsmith

  2. Powerful and impactful. We humans can be very cruel to each other. The tragedy depicted here is that, in order to survive the bullies in our lives, we have to destroy the good and beauty in ourselves. When applied on a much grander scale — on the national level — the body politic becomes demoralized with the daily pummels by high ranking bullies. The slow killing of a nation.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. Your story is compelling and emotionally tearing. As was this boy’s life every day.
    One would like to believe that such cruelty couldn’t go on unnoticed but that seems to be a world of a dreamer.

    It is clear who the boy is and yet not until the end. You see, if you had seen this every day you would have helped the boy.

    Miriam

    Liked by 2 people

  4. This is excellent. I read it on a couple of different levels, or in a couple of different ways. And I love it when a piece of writing puts me in a frame of mind in which I feel free to do that. In other words, I see more than one story here, perhaps multiple ones, which to me means that as a reader I became very involved in your narrative. Good work!

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Wow! This is sooo good.
    I just wrote a piece (that I hadn’t posted yet) about an inner child. Not sure if this is who you are talking about or maybe not. If it is, mine definitely pales in comparison to your brilliant writing. Im glad I was waiting until tomorrow to post it. 😃

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Pingback: The Fifth Session — The Stories In Between – The Narrow Edge

  7. 0k, I saw what you did and yeah, you are getting a story you like it or not. I don’t care about the rules I listed, I am breaking them. The next one is for you. 😀 The whole day was going south, but I see my evening is gonna be a blast. 😀 And the story above the comments, pretty good. 😀

    Liked by 2 people

  8. God, I Love your stories. I am heartbroken, tears on my cheeks, out of breath. You truly write some of the best stories I have ever read. I always look forward to reading your work and I always leave feeling so much. Amazing!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Well, that hit home, as a teacher, parent, and sister. I got physical with a guy on said bus and defended my sister who was that boy for two years before I boarded… same with walking home from that bus stop with another… assholes. Let your boy cry.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I can relate to this story. I was made fun of a lot as a child. I usually bought back against the bullies until high school when the bullies knew martial arts.

    suggestion–
    I would format this as a short play, as there is no descriptive narration. It is entirely dialogue driven, a key aspect of plays.

    minor edits
    nobody[,] not (a semicolon usually connects two independent clauses, not sentence fragments)
    I tell you what though[;] he’s

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I have not been on for a little while now and then I finally jumped back on. The first blogger I decided to do an update on was you. When I tell you sir…..Your writing is a breathe of fresh air every time.. You’re killing the game sir…..THANK YOU 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Stories. While I knew from the start he was talking about himself, it didn’t lessen the story within. This, I felt deeply as I can relate intensely. Our peers can be heartless and cruel. We never know what’s really going on in someone’s home or life. Perhaps we each need to try a little empathy and compassion. That person going slow in line ahead of you might be preoccupied with memories of a lost loved one. That clerk who’s not very friendly might have got in a car wreck three days ago and doesn’t know how they’ll afford the damages. Etc Etc.

    So too, I recognize the cruelty for this boy has altered his self-perceptions. He bought into the lies his tormentors taught him. That he was weak and worthless. And so he tore himself apart and buried those pieces in dark corners of his mind in hopes that the truth of who he really is would never be uncovered. What happened is that he became a bully himself.

    And so… this is accurate and heartbreakingly true. And it hurts my heart because I recognize it within my own self. I suppose I could write a long(er) response but I think you get the idea: I loved this and hated this and that’s just the perfect response.

    Liked by 1 person

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