‘Beep, Beep, Beep’ repeated the torturous alarm clock.

Bobby arose from his deep slumber; eyes still closed, stretched out his hand and wildly thwacked his night stand hoping to silence the infernal yapping. Bobby, after successfully hitting the alarm clock into submission, reluctantly swung his legs to the side of the bed and braced himself for the day that would follow. His toes tapped the floor and immediately a shiver shot through his body; the air was cold and the floor was like ice, making it almost painful to stand upon. Finally, after adjusting to the icy temperature, he stood and began getting his school uniform together. Bobby disliked his school uniform; it was a dark blue and the tie held the insignia of orange and white. Not only did the uniform look awful but the material it was made out ofcontained the most bristly combination of threads. The only item of clothing bobby liked was the blazer because, although ugly and uncomfortable, it held many pockets. Bobby a classy child liked the idea of blazers but not the actual reality.

Now dressed, yawning and rubbing his eyes, Bobby wandered down the oddly proportioned stairs, tripped over his lace on a few steps but managed to retain his balance, and successfully planted his feet on the ground floor. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Bobby pondered what to eat for breakfast. He opened the cupboard and scoured the shelves for sustenance, but to no avail, there was but a lone, half-eaten, Rich Tea biscuit on the second shelf. This did not appeal to Bobby at all, so he concluded he would have to stomach school hungry.

The sound of closing footsteps became apparent. His mother, Sarah, was now awake and on her way to complete her morning ritual: hugging Bobby, repeating the monotone words, ‘I love you,’ expectant of a verbatim reply.

Sarah was a rather 5’5 and pleasantly plump. Slowly, still in a stupor, she wobbled towards Bobby her arms wide open making her intentions of a hug clear. Bobby loved his mother but the thought of a hug was almost alien to him, he disliked personal interaction and he has a problem with emotions, however try as he might to duck and weave his way around his mother, to get to the front door of freedom his attempts failed and she forced upon him this dreaded hug. Sarah wrapped her arms around Bobby and after three seconds she told him “I love you Bobby” to which there was a reply of “mum I’ve got to get to school, I’ll be late if you don’t move!” so as requested Sarah moved from the path of the door, Bobby opened it and exited, and as a loving mother does, Sarah returned to the window and began to wave. She had never received an ‘I love you’ back from her son ever since he had started having trouble at school. The trouble started about three months back Bobby began coming home with bruises, cuts and various scrapes about his person and refused to tell his mother anything about them, if she dare ask how he had received an injury he reciprocated with a flurry of words, filling the air with avoidance. On his way to school Bobby would usually have time to calm down, relax and just enjoy the brief walk but in recent months he had shown many signs of hatred for this time, he had feigned illness to relieve himself of the stress of another school day, even begged his mother to drive him on numerous occasions and as much as Sarah attempted to break down his wall of secrets he did not falter and would not tell her a single detail.

Bobby shut the front door upon his exit and began walking, every few minutes Bobby would feel a burning sensation on his back; as if someone was staring at him intensely from afar, Bobby’s head swivelled from behind him to in-front, like it was situated on a lose pivot, as his eyes scanned the surroundings. He raised his arm and rested his hand upon his chest; he felt his heart beating quicker and quicker with each step he took. He heard ‘their’ voices from the alley-way, he knew there was no other route to school, and he was stuck.Trapped. He paused all motion for a minute and began to think of the possibilities, could he slip past them using the shadows casted by the over hanging trees? Could he just wait it out until they leave and chance getting his third and final warning at school? Should he return home and hope mother hadn’t left for work yet? Whatever he was to do it must have been decided right then. He pondered and eventually derived a few plans, none of which had a guarantee that he would escape this routine battering, he decided to just man up and walk past them. Bobby turned the corner and his stomach tied into a knot, he knew this was a bad plan almost instantly. ‘maybe it’s not too late, maybe I can retreat before they see me and just explain my predicament to my teacher when I’m late into class’ but by the time this thought had taken its course the bullies eyes, in a simultaneous wave, flew in Bobby’s direction. It begins again.

Bobby pretends to not see them even as they shout his name, and one throws a rock at him, he just averts his eyes from them and continues the path. Bobby’s heart, behind the iron cell bars that was his ribs, had the exact same feeling of trapped as it pounded his chest trying to escape. “OI, DON’T ACT AS IF WE ARENT HERE” one of the bullies ran and caught up to bobby, standing in front of him, blocking his path. “if I didn’t know any better id think you was trying to avoid us or somthin’, Bob” he spoke in a snide slow voice, Bobby took a breath in and yet said nothing. “A little silent today then are we Bob?” the bully said smirking, by this time the others had caught up to him, Bobby’s eyes searched desperately for a way out and his eyes fell upon a window overlooking the alley he stood in; an old man stared from the window watching idly by as the inevitable unfolded. “IM SPEAKING TO YOU” the leader repeated, spit flying from his mouth as he uttered it. Beads of sweat formed upon Bobby’s head  as that deep set nausea began to kick in, the boy pushed him in hopes Bobby would respond but Bobby just stood contemplating. “Right then, it would seem our friend here don’t wish to speak… so shall we just skip the formalities and break his bones now?” at this point the bullies’ hands grew into a fist and Bobby braced himself for the first punch. A fist flew up and smacked Bobby’s cheek, he felt his head swing to the side, a flurry of kicks and punches soon followed and as Bobby with his last glance stared up he saw the old man at the window, the man seemed detached staring down with a grimace; then with a fleeting kick ‘Smack’ Bobby was knocked out.

Bobby awoke; the aches of his bone grew in intensity as he began to move from his recumbent position. He, using his arm against the cold brick wall, lifted himself into standing. After mere seconds of closing his eyes and breathing he began to feel his face which by now was causing some pain he had a ‘fat lip’ which stung as he felt it and a cut above his left eyebrow. He patched himself up, wiping blood from his head as tears dripped off his chin. Bobby had at one time enjoyed the walk to school. Bobby looked down at his watch he had missed two lessons it was now break so he came to a decision that he would just go home. He began limping; the places of which bruises were to appear throbbed with each step, and he was using the wall as a support in order to almost carry himself to his destination.

The cold English air brushed past his face and revealed yet another scrape; he took deep breaths as his trudged forward. He thought as he walked, ‘is there no escape from this constant hounding, will there ever be a time when he is not hunted for a game of pain’ the more he thought the more he taunted himself ‘escape HA! There’s no escape for me, I’m pitiful’. Pitiful. His self-loathing was interrupted by the sight of his house; it came into the periphery of his blurred vision as he hopped home. He saw his mother’s car and it reminded him of the last time he returned home in a state like this, the never ending flurry of questions was overwhelming and he ended up having to run out the front door to get away. He, now at the foot of his door step, attempted to hide his pain in a chance to elude his mother, but sadly he could not bring himself to hide such immensities. He proceeded to knock on the door remembering he had left his keys strewn upon the davenport, now there was to be no stealthy evasion of his mother.  He saw the handle twist as Sarah on the other side opened the door, “Bobby!” she screeched “what happened” she ran up to, and wrapped her arms around Bobby with tear forming in her eyes. Bobby pushed his mother off and asked gently “can I just go to bed please mum?” Sarah leant back and allowed her son passage past as she held back her pain.

Hours later, Bobby now after having a shower and ridding himself of the blood spatters and placing his ripped and scarlet coated, clothing in the bin, laid silent on his bed. He could hear his mums footsteps leading to his door then retreating back down stairs as she contemplated entering the and reassuring him, she repeated this act a matter of three times before actually opening the door. “Bobby …” she whispered in a hesitant voice, “Bobby look I know you don’t like talking about things but I can’t help if I don’t know” the deafening silence continued and as Sarah was about to take another breath Bobby rolled ever so slightly to the left and told her “there’s nothing to tell, life is good, I am fine”. Sarah looked on at him her heart aches with worry, her mind racked with guilt, “could it be my fault he’s getting hurt? Shouldn’t I as his mother be able to protect him?” she thought. Sarah left Bobby’s room tears welling in her eyes, for what pain she was feeling, the pain of a loving mother, standing idly by as she is helpless to protect her own son, was crushing her soul. Bobby, from through the floorboards heard his mother’s whaling and sobbing and knew then it was time he done something about this, for it was not just affecting him but his mother too. The next day bobby’s alarm went off yet again the noise pierced bobbies ears as it attempted to awaken him, however bobby hadn’t slept that night, in fact it had been a few nights now where he hadn’t slept properly. He stood, his feet  planted against the icy floor, as the cold attack the soft underbelly of his heel he began walking… unfazed, the cold hurt him not as it used to; he had become accustomed to pain. Placing his cold unfeeling clothing on, he breathed in and in his mind prepared himself for the following day. He stepped slowly down the stairs, his eyes sunken expecting his mother to repeat her routine of the hug kiss and … words.

She didn’t.

Bobby thought to himself ‘ha, small mercy’s’ as he closed his front door. The bullies repeated their anger fuelled attacks for the next two weeks. The old man from the window continually stood glaring as it happened looking saddened but never attempting to help.

Bobby drew in a huge gasp of air as he set of on this one particular day, his clothes secretly padded by his helpless mother; as he wandered aimlessly to the alley of doom. Approaching the alley he heard those voices that stayed in his mind permanently, even when the bullies left, he knew today would follow suit of all other days, he accepted his fate and walked through the entrance. The bullies almost as if theysmelt his fear stared at him and lined up, bobby looked to the window where the old man normally stood; he wasn’t there. “hey bob, you’re late… oh and have you noticed?, even the old man has given up, you have no one…. Sadly that also means we haven’t got an audience, ahhh well that don’t matter does it bob?” the bully smirked as he advanced. Bobby’s eyes gazed upon the walls and floor of the alley noticing a date inscribed upon them all, bobby, an observant boy realised he had never seen these before; and not only this but the date matched that of todays’ however the year was 28 years previous?. Approaching closer the bully spoke, “we must really have hit you hard last time, maybe we should ease up, your starting to look more and more vacant each day” bobby, hands in his blazer pockets just stood silent. “this game loses all fun when hes’ like this ay boys?” the group of bullies grew closer laughing and agreeing, “ oh well, let’s get this over with anyway” still unmoved bobbies eyes slowly looking up at the oncoming bullies, first a hand was raised as blood splattered over bobby, ruining yet another set of uniform clothes, bobbies ears felt deafened as he shook, yet again another hand was raised, this time twice as more blood coated the alley; as the bullies bodies hit the floor. “sins of the fathers”. You see the blood covering bobby was the bullies, the sound that deafened bobby was his own doing…. the fistraised was Bobbie’s, and clutched within it was a pistol.

He had shot them.

Finally bobby breathed as the old man emerged from behind him, “it is done” the old man said as he kneeled and placed his head on bobbies left shoulder, for little did the bullies know their audience wasn’t there that day and bobby was a little late because before he reached the alley the old man had stopped him. The old man had stopped him, whilst wearing classy black clothing and told him the story of how twenty eight years ago his son died… due to the excessive beatings from his bullies and the old man expressed by the time he had realised his son was being hurt it was too late. “sins of the fathers” the old man had said as he passed the pistol to bobby and wove a plan. You see the engraved date was the old man’s doing from when he scratched it into the wall using his hands whilst he was filled with grief.