Nicola Muller

The Empty Gun Nicci Muller His breathing is harsh and haggard. Sweat is pouring down his face and his pudgy cheeks are bright red. He just walked from his one class to the next. The kids all laugh at him and mock him, not realising that their words cut like carving knives. His dark blonde hair is wet and matted with sweat as it hangs limply on his forehead. He enters my class and I can see his lip trembling as he scans the desks for somewhere to sit. The other kids place their bags on the desks and the chairs so that he can’t sit next to them. His cheeks are on fire in obvious humiliation. He lowers his head and moves towards the only open desk in the class; right in front of my desk. My heart breaks for him. I wish I knew what to say to make him feel better, but honestly, what can you say to a person who keeps getting broken down? I don’t like how my English teacher is looking at me. Like she can see right through me. Like she knows what I’m feeling. No one knows what I’m feeling. How can they? I’m a fat, ugly slob and there’s nothing I can do about it. Believe me, I’ve tried. I just can’t seem to lose weight, no matter how much I go to the gym or how little I eat. It’s always here and it’s always following me around. Just like the eyes. There are always pairs of eyes trained on me as I walk from class to class, struggling for breath. It’s so hard to keep walking, to keep going to school. I hate myself. I hate my life. I wish I could die. His head hangs over his book as the kids around him snicker. I can see tears falling on the paper. I’ve had enough. I call the kids by name. “Garth, William, Jennifer, Andrea, Justin and Paige. Outside. NOW.” I don’t give them time to ask questions. I stand by the door as the six of them shuffle out of my classroom. What’s she doing now? She’s going to make it worse! Why can’t she just ignore them like all the other teachers do? Why does she have to antagonise them? If I ignore them long enough they tend to stop. Sometimes. It looked like it was almost working and now she had to go and do this. I’m furious. How dare she? Who does she think she is? I can feel my cheeks getting hot with anger. They stand outside, side by side, like a unified front against the enemy. Me. It’s laughable how important these kids think they are. It gives me so much pleasure to break down their false sense of importance. To bring them back down to earth. I glare at each of them individually. Just long enough to make them squirm. Good. Let them squirm, evil little shits. “You know exactly what the six of you are doing out here. I’ve been watching each of you and I can’t say I’m impressed, because I’m not. Your behaviour has been vile. Disgusting. Inhuman. Downright evil.” Garth, the leader of their sadistic pack, speaks up. “Ma’am, we don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t done anything wrong.” He smirks and his friends perk up, ready to win this battle. I narrow my eyes at him. “Listen here, you little shit,” He visibly shrinks at the venom in my voice. “You six are a disappointment to this school. I’ve seen how you treat Duncan. I’ve heard what you say and I’ve had enough. Listen up and listen good. Grow up. The world eats people like you six for breakfast and I, for one, would love to see that. You cannot treat people the way you’ve been treating Duncan just because he looks different than the rest of you. You don’t know what’s going on in his life and you have no right to break him down for the battle he’s fighting. If I ever find out that the six of you are nothing but kind to him, your time at this school is over and I will personally make sure that it gets written in your permanent records that the six of you are bullies. No university would want a bully. They want prestigious people they can brag about. They won’t be able to brag about any of you if your behaviour doesn’t change. Do you understand me?” I emphasise the last sentence and I hear a chorus of nervous “Yes, ma’am’s” back. Good. I follow them back into class and continue my lesson. Oh no. What did she say to them? They look like they’ve gotten a verbal beating. The pleasure I feel when I look at their downtrodden faces brings me an unexpected feeling of joy. Huh… The house is dark when I get home. The kitchen is a mess. The smell of stale beer hangs in the air. Great. Dad didn’t go to work again. I walk to my room to put my school bag down and then I hear him. “Duncan? Duncan! DUNCAN! Answer me you lazy fuck!” I hurry to close my bedroom door. I manage to lock it just as he starts banging on my door. He screams and swears at me through the door, blaming me for my mother’s absence. I hate it when he drinks. I hate him. I hate him so much I just want to kill him. He’s the reason mom left us. Maybe if he didn’t drink so much she’d still be here. I wish she was here. I feel so alone. I crawl onto my bed to wait out dad’s temporary insanity. Soon he’ll pass out, then I can clean the house and cook dinner. I wake up in a daze. My alarm clock reminds me yet again that I have to go to work. To hell. I am so unhappy. I hate being a teacher. I’m not a good role model. I don’t have any of my ducks in a row. Hell, I don’t even know where my ducks are. I wish I could quit my job and just write for a living. I roll over on my side to switch the alarm off. Then the date hits me. 22 February 2021. A year today. I can’t go to work today. I can’t. I have to though. I used up all of my leave days last year after… I sigh. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my shit together today. Everything reminds me of them. My husband and my baby girl. It’s not fair that I didn’t go with them. It’s not fair. A sob escapes my mouth as I turn the shower on. You can cry as loudly as you want, I remind myself, you live alone. Always alone. I crumple onto the shower floor, gasping for air as the sobs wrack my body. I don’t want to be alive without them. A while has gone by since Ms Rey has spoken to the popular kids. A month or two I think. They’ve left me alone so far. Now my days are filled with pretending to be preoccupied with schoolwork and avoiding eye contact, followed by the habitual hiding from my dad and taking care of the house and myself when he passes out in a drunken stupor. I’m passing all of my classes and I think I’ve lost a little bit of weight. That’s good. I mean, it’s not ideal, but I’m getting there. Slowly. “Hey, fat fuck!” I hear someone shout at me during lunchtime. I look up from my lunch to see that the popular kids are back. They form a circle around me. Where is a teacher? Anyone? I glance around, anxiously seeking help. “No one’s coming to help you, chubs. Especially not that bitchass teacher.” One of the girls say. My cheeks burn with humiliation. And anger. My throat closes up in anger. As I stand up to walk away from them, Garth says, “Where do you think you’re going, slug?” And he shoves me. They laugh as I fall to the ground. I jump up and I punch Garth straight in the face. The next thing I know I’m on the ground and they’re taking turns kicking me and calling me names. I just lie there and take it. There’s too many of them and by the time they’re done with me, I can’t see out of my right eye. I can taste blood in my mouth and my ribs are screaming. I think I’m just going to keep lying down for a bit. The bell rings to signal the end of lunch break. I make no attempt to move. I’ll just stay here and wallow in my anger and humiliation. They’re going to be sorry. Every single one of them. I haven’t seen Duncan at school since he fell down the stairs last Tuesday. That’s what he told me when he showed up at my class this morning. I can’t say I believe him. I suspect those other kids got to him, they’re not attempting to hide their satisfaction at his obvious pain and discomfort. I constantly see them sneaking smirks his way and then giggling with one another. I don’t think I’ve hated anyone as much as I hate this group of kids. They’re sadists. They’ve got to be. I’m in the middle of teaching my favourite poem, ‘Death be not proud’ by Jon Donne, when I see one of the bullies, Justin Levey, stand up to throw a paper in the bin. As he passes Duncan he slaps him upside his head and before I can confront him, Duncan jumps out of his seat and pulls a gun out. He aims it at Justin’s back. “Duncan…” I start. “YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!” He screams at Justin. “Put the gun away before you hurt yourself, Blobby.” Garth laughs. “GARTH!” I shout at him. “How dare you speak to someone this way! And Justin, just who do you think you are, slapping Duncan like that? Duncan, honey, please look at me.” I beg. His face is bright red and his eyes are still trained on Justin. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his forehead. The gun shakes in his hand. He glances at me. “That’s it, Duncan. Look at me. Are you okay? Where did you find the gun?” I try to keep my voice as calm as possible, but my insides are shaking. “Maybe he got the gun from his druggie father!” Paige chimes in. The other popular kids laugh. The rest of the class is quiet. I can see them slowly trying to get under their desks. The popular kids are still laughing. “STOP LAUGHING AT ME, I’LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!” I scream at the popular kids. This will teach them never to fucking wrong me again. “Duncan, honey…” “STOP CALLING ME HONEY! I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING HONEY!” How dare this teacher condescend me? Can’t she see that I’m the one in control here, not her. Someone tackles me from behind. William. He starts trying to take my gun from me. No one takes my gun from me. “Boys! Stop! Someone’s going to get hurt! CUT IT OUT RIGHT NOW!” Ms Rey suddenly shouts. I pay her no mind. This is none of her business. This is between me and William, Garth, Justin, Andrea, Jennifer and Paige. Assholes. Every single one of them. As William continues to struggle, Justin joins in. Someone else starts pulling at us. I can feel my grip on the gun loosening. Shit. I flex my hand and suddenly a deafening shot rings out. Everyone screams and drops to the ground. “Did anyone get hit?” I hear a shrill voice from the back of the class. Laila. She’s always been nice to me. It’s a shame she had to witness this. A groan interrupts my thoughts. Pain. White-hot, searing pain. I don’t know where it’s coming from. I lift my head to find the source. My chest. I can’t breathe. I can feel my blood soaking through my shirt. I’m so tired. So tired. I might just rest my eyes for a few minutes. Someone else can come deal with this. I hear more gunshots as my vision fades to black. Breaking news. There has been a shooting at Montbrand High School. The details remain unclear. There will be a statement from the principal momentarily. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is… This is a great tragedy. Tonight our school mourns the loss of innocence and the loss lives. I cannot begin to tell you how shocked and saddened we are by today’s tragic events. We mourn the loss of Ms Nina Rey, who tried everything in her power to contain and disperse the situation. Her efforts were futile. May her soul rest in peace with her loved ones; her husband, Jordan, and her daughter, Nova; who sadly passed last year. We also mourn the loss of young lives. Justin Levey, Garth Warner, Paige Simmons, Andrea Rin and Duncan Webster. It seems that Duncan brought a weapon to school and during a struggle fired the shot that led to Ms Rey’s life being cut short. He then proceeded to gun down the victims before turning the gun on himself. May they rest in peace. Our prayers are with the families of the victims during this incredibly hard time. Thank you.”