“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder
Which, as they kiss, consume”
? William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Prologue
Romeo
Age Ten
Waking up cold, I notice my head hurts, and so does my leg. I blink a few times, the lights from above hazy and not helping the drum banging inside my skull. Using my hands to push to sitting up, I notice I can’t move them. Looking down, I’m in one of those straitjacket things, and my shorts are gone and replaced with a pair of white scrubs. My heart begins to beat so hard in my chest it feels like it’s lodged in my throat. Using my shoulders, I try to inch my arms down in an attempt to get out of the jacket. My body temperature rises with my failed attempt, and I suddenly feel sad, but still angry. How could my father let this happen to me?
Sliding off the bed, the cold black and white tile beneath my feet, I look to the door that is open, everything slowly coming back to me.
Sitting in the far back of the class, I’m slouched back, tapping the head of a pencil on the scratched up desk. The lights right above my head are bright, giving me a headache. The hard blue plastic chair is uncomfortable. I fidget in my seat, noticing the shirt clinging to my skin. I’m sweating for some reason, and my legs feel restless. The heel of my black Nikes have constantly tapped the tiled floor since class started over an hour ago. I’m off today, angry and annoyed. Pissed that I have to be here. I tried to stay home, but my mother wouldn’t have it. She made me go, which made me want to lash out even more. Father has suggested that my brother and I stay home multiple times because it’d be safer for us, but my mother refuses to acknowledge that the crime my father runs is as cold as the victims he’s subdued.
“Romeo, why don’t you read the next paragraph?” Mrs. Honey asked. My eyes peek through my eyelashes, my jaw tightens as everyone turns in their seat to look at me. Mrs. Honey. The sweet teacher that wears long flower dresses and has the hair color of actual honey. She should be teaching kindergarteners, not fifth graders.
“Pass,” I grumbled under my breath. I hate reading to the class and she knows this. I wish she’d just leave me alone today. I don’t want to be bothered.
“No, give it a try,” she pushes, and the unusual feeling I had inside of me since I woke up this morning breeds into something hostile and monstrous. Casen and Gunther laugh to themselves from the other side of the class and my eyes snap to them, both of them side-eyeing me. The cool kids, at least they think they are. Both with shaved heads, with band name t-shirts and ripped jeans. They’re just bullies and dumb fucks. Someone needs to show that Casen he’s not as tough as he thinks he is.
Sitting forward, I sigh heavily and flip the textbook open.
“Page 356, Taming the shrew,” Mrs. Honey instructs.
Swallowing the dryness suddenly in the back of my throat, the small black words seem like a lot, and are intimidating. My feet tap harder and faster, and I run my nails across the back of my neck nervously. I can read, but I do struggle with bigger words, and I hate reading out loud like this in class.
“Sit- sit by my side, and let the world… let the world slip…” My words fade, and I wipe my forehead of a sudden sweat. I’m screwing this up. I can feel all eyes on me, and I wish the book would just eat me whole. Why is it so damn hot in here?
“Keep going,” Mrs. Honey instructs with that sweet as candy voice.
“He can’t read, he’s stupid, teach’!” Casen shouts, the entire class erupting into laughter. I shove my book off the desk and look to him.
“Fuck you!” I snarl and stand from my seat.
“You wanna go, rich kid?”
“Whoa! No, both of you take your seats!” The teacher raises her hands, her head popping between me and Casen.
Not listening, I push through the desks and forcefully wrap my arm around his neck, he grunts, and I tighten my hold. Pulling him down, I punch him in the mouth with my other hand and Mrs. Honey lets out a scream when blood splatters to the class floor.
Casen cries out with pain, his arms flailing to reach me. Letting go of him, I let him get to his feet and then I shove him into a bunch of desks watching him tumble and fall across the floor like the weak little bitch that he is. Mrs. Honey hurries to separate us, blocking me from coming at him again.