I couldn't focus on anything else that day, my thoughts were completely occupied by those eyes that I had seen in that book. My gaze fell on the shelf the book was placed the whole time. For the first time in my life I had felt a burning desire, a desire to look at that page again, to find out more, I wanted to know more about that girl. Why was she like that? Did her eyes look just like mine? Did she go through the same thing I did? Was she just like me? Questions like that were swimming in my mind the whole time.
"Hey kid, isn't your shift over, go to the storeroom, take your money and get your ass out of here, I don't want to see your filthy face any longer!" the shopkeeper suddenly shouted.
"Y-yes s-s-sir".
I went to the storeroom, took today's money and was about to leave when my eye caught a glint in its vision. I went over to it out of curiosity and picked it up and as soon as I saw it, my mind started racing, it was a sample piece of 'This Is Not Love'. Sample pieces aren't meant for sale, it is like a token of appreciation from the publisher to the book store, they are usually just kept in the back of the storeroom and forgotten for eternity.
I muttered to myself," If I steal it then nobody will notice, right?".
Shoplifting and stealing were nothing new to me, and I didn't even feel any guilt for it anymore. When stealing is the difference between a full stomach and almost dying starvation, your moral compass does tend to get a bit warped. I had stolen food from multiple grocery stores and also got caught a few times. Some were pitiful enough to let it go, others didn't show any mercy and beat me up. Thankfully none of them called the police because I was just a small child.
This time it was different, there would be severe consequences. Not only would I lose my job, if my father gets to know why I can't give him money anymore. I will probably end up with a few scars at the very least. But for some reason, I was ready to face the consequences today. For the first time in my life I gave in to my desires, I wanted to look into those eyes again, I wanted to know why I couldn't see her emotions, I wanted to know if she was happy in the end or if she loses herself in her despair? Is she strong like her aura suggests or a pathetic weakling like me? I wanted to know everything about her.
I picked up the book and put it in my shirt, then with a hunched posture. I made my way out, the shopkeeper just looked at my cowering posture and snorted, I had gotten past him easily. The second I was out of the premises, I started running. I ran like my life depended on it. The pain in my leg was still there, but that didn't matter. As soon as I reached my house, I hid the book in the deepest corner of the single cupboard in our room. This was the only safe place to hide anything in the whole home. My father was probably out drinking and wouldn't be home till late at night, but it wasn't safe to read the book until my father comes home and passes out.
It was now late in the night, my father had passed out on the dirty and torn sofa while watching the cracked television. He came home about an hour ago and stunk of alcohol and vomit like he always did. I gave him the food I had bought with some of my job money and gave the remaining amount to him. He shouted and scolded me for some odd reason or the other like usual, but it seems he didn't have the energy to beat me today and blacked out on the couch.
I slowly opened the cupboard and took out the book and the small torch we used when the lights went out, which happened quite often. I made my way to my futon and opened the book, my mind being vigilant and my heart almost bursting out of my chest. I didn't realize then the emotions I had felt when reading this book and the reason I had the hope to be free of my torment.
Years later I completed my third year in junior high school. Just like my dad had promised, he enrolled me into the cheapest junior high school possible. For all the three years I was in that school I tried to keep to myself and not make the mistake of socializing, though that didn't stop me from being bullied. It was just that the bullying was more psychological than physical unlike elementary school but other than that nothing changed. Well except for one thing. I gave my every second to studying in that school. The reason was a certain Mr Takanashi, who was the English teacher and the guidance counselor at the school.
In the first year of junior high school, he had confronted me about the bullying.
"Hey, you! Konue, Mr Takanashi is calling you to the counselling room", a classmate of mine said to me.
I made my way to the counselling room feeling anxious. When I opened the door, I saw Mr Takanashi sitting on his chair and looking out the window.
"Oh! Konue, you're here. Take a seat. We need to talk", he said when he saw me come in.
I sat down in front of him and gave my greetings.
"So, you probably know why you are here but just for courtesy's sake, are you being bullied?" he asked.
I wanted to refute him to save myself from the trouble, but it seems he already knew the truth, so there was no point in denying it.
"Y-y-yeah".
"I see, and are the scars you are hiding a result of said bullying?" he asked again.
He put me into a precarious situation, I thought. If I tell the truth then he will probably file a police complaint which will only make my situation worse. I nodded in agreement to his words, but it seems he is quite perceptive because he immediately saw through me.
"There's no point in lying to me Konue, I have been a teacher and counselor for a long time, I know how bullying works in school. Students know that physical violence can put them in big trouble, so they go for the more psychological route. I looked at your student details and it says here that you live with your father. He is probably the one who did it, am I right?".
I just stared at him, giving neither confirmation nor denial, but even that was as good as any confirmation.
" As a teacher, I should report this you know".
"P-p-pleased-don't d-do that, i-it w-will only g-get w-w-worse for me, p-please!" I pleaded.
"I know, I know that's why I said as a teacher, but as a person, I know that the system is broken. Without concrete proof, I can't do anything fruitful, so unless I have the proof I won't do anything. Now getting to the point at hand, I'll try to do something about the bullying, I can't stop it completely but I will try my best."
"T-t-thank y-you".
"Don't get me wrong, if I have concrete proof, then the first thing I will do is report it to the police, no kid should ever have to go through such a thing. I will make sure that he pays one day but until then the best thing for you to do now is to completely focus on your studies and pour all your effort to get into this high school in Tokyo".
He handed me a pamphlet from a well known high school in Tokyo. It was a very prestigious high school that produces very successful alumni.
"This school has an amazing scholarship program, if you qualify for it, they provide you with all living expenses along with a hostel to stay in and you are also exempt from paying school fees. This will help you get out of your house as soon as possible and also prepare you for a good future. You already have excellent grades but you need to put in much more effort to get into this school. Pour in all your effort and you will be rewarded. That is this schools motto".
While I was very skeptical, I also saw a small glimmer of hope. I clung to that hope and put all my effort into studying, I studied the second I had any time and because of Mr Takanashi's help, even the bullying had gotten slightly better. I continued to study religiously for the next three years and was able to secretly give the scholarship exam for high school in my third year.
It was now late in the summer after the third year ended, the results for the exam had come and I had made it into the scholarship program successfully. With the help of Mr Takanashi, I was able to enroll into the school. The hope of a happy future that I had clung to three years ago was becoming more real, but I should have known that I shouldn't have clung to that hope in the first place.
It was a week before my first day of high school. I planned to leave for Tokyo three days later with Mr Takanashi in the middle of the night when my dad is out cold. I was packing my stuff for school and as I was putting in my most important possession, the book, I heard the loud bang of the front door suddenly opening.
My father came in with a livid look on his face and suddenly grabbed my collar.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO, YOU USELESS PIECE OF TRASH!" he shouted.
"W-w-what?" I replied in fear.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT!! WHY ARE THERE TWO POLICEMEN ON DOWN THERE AND WHY ARE THEY AFTER ME, HAAH!!".
I didn't know what exactly was happening but the only conclusion I could have drawn is that someone filed a complaint against him and the only person who could do that is Mr Takanashi. A few days ago I had gone to school to discuss how we were going to leave Tokyo with Mr Takanashi and while going back home, I encountered my dad. He was drunk and furious for some reason, he started shouting and started to hit me in broad daylight though there was no one in the vicinity. The only thing I could conclude was that Mr Takanashi had probably heard his shouts and came to see what happened but didn't show himself so that he could get the proof he had been searching for and then filed a police complaint when he got it.
It may have been a parting gift from his side before I went to high school. I appreciate the sentiment but it seems that his plan backfired, my father evaded the cops which resulted in the current situation.
"I-I-I d-d-don't k-know", I said, hoping that he would calm down.
"GETTING COCKY ARE YOU! IT SEEMS THAT I HAVEN'T DISCIPLINED YOU ENOUGH".
He picked up the baseball bat with which he always used to hit and started to beat me. Usually, he would avoid hitting me on the head so that he wouldn't kill me, but it was not out of mercy or anything. It was just that I was of use to him, I was his source of money and was also used as a punching bag to vent his frustrations. Today, however, was different, he started hitting me indiscriminately and aimed specifically at my head. The only thing I could do was hold on tightly to my book, my most important thing. He would normally stop once he became tired but today he kept on bashing my head in, I could slowly feel my consciousness leaving me and I realized that he was trying to kill me.
"Sir!! Stop right now, or we will shoot" I heard the police just as I was about to faint. The last thing I heard was a bang...