Surviving School

I never enjoyed going to school. It was always the flagellum of my breeding. When sitting in classes I just looked at my watch number the minutes d let until I could guide. Each day, .time seemed to tick slower. It was like macrocosm in prison, just counting the days over pass until you would be released. there was a reason why I hated school so much. It wasnt the rest of my peer group, save one particular teacher who make my life the animated hell that for me was my school life personified.Loren was his name Ralph Loren. He was the Maths teacher who picked on me in either lesson. He even out made fun of me in front of my fellow peers, telling them to express feelings at me every time I got something incorrect. Maths was a lesson which we had every day and therefore it was almost impossible to avoid his daily electrocution hatred for me. I felt he treated me differently from the others. It was as though he had this burning desire inwardly him to make my life a living mis ery. But for what reason I dont k straight.Coming from a tough background made me quite a tough cookie, but Mr. Loren made me feel different. I couldnt stand the bullying and physical ill-use he gave me. I tried telling my parents but my Mum was in any case busy with work trying to keep the family afloat. My Dad? Well he apply to be a professional boxer before he became whiz damaged. He was an excellent professional boxer competeing hardly the best but he suffered a high degree of brain damage in a championship advertize and is directly limit to the use of a wheel chair as he has now nearly lost all mobility and memory. Doctors say it will only be a a couple of(prenominal) more months before he forgets even his own family.Needless to say I learned to look out for myself and fight my own battles after(prenominal) all that weve been by. Its tough but it has to be through with(p) if Im to survive and keep my sanity..However I inactive have the worry of Mr. Loren. I pers istent that strict action was to be taken. I had to fight this battle alone but I needed help. I contacted a fewer old friends who used to live on the estate with me in Brixton. They didnt like me and I didnt like them but we all had an unspoken arrest and when there was trouble we looked out for each other. We had to for our own safety. These people were the relegate of people who you wouldnt take to meet out on a shameful night on your own.These were people who the Mafia wouldnt even want to do business with They were truly that bad. They reachered me a few solutions to my problem and I utter I would get back to them with my decision in the side by side(p) few days. It was a lot to mull over. I decided to leave it a few days in case things got a little check which I sincerely doubted. For the next week Mr. Loren bullied me like never before. He hit me he even beat me with metre sticks. I had bruises down my body, I was in real agony. I decided to leave him in the grasps o f my mates from Brixton. He had to be taught a lesson like never before.For the next week Mr. Loren was absent from school. Everyone thought he was just ill. The school knew energy of his whereabouts. As time went by people seemed to forget about Mr. Loren as we now had a replacement Maths teacher who was absolutely shiny and I longed for her to stay on full time if Mr. Loren was not to start back.As time went by I forgot all about Mr. Loren. I just assumed that he had learnt his lesson and fled the country. It wasnt until one night when I really realised what had adventureed.I was walking back from town one eve when I passed the Television Rentals store. I always liked to have a glance at what was on because I had never owned a television before. I was wandering around the shop glancing at the programs on the various screens. When suddenly I saw the latest news punch flash up onto the screen. An unidentified man had been reported missing twin(a) roughly Mr. Lorens descripti on and had subsequently been found by police searching the area. Police had scoured sections of woods and lakes when a few passers by had observe a floating body in an old marshy lake on the outskirts of town.. My heart seemed to stop beating momentarily. I didnt know what to think. I decided that the best course of action was to run to the other side of town to gather what was going on.I had never run so tight in my life. When I reached the crime scene the whole area was cordoned off with tape. I asked whether the body had been identified yet and they said that the corpse was remedy undergoing identification. After hours of patient waiting the corpse was identified as a one Mr. Loren. I was horrified at the news. I left for plate as swiftly as I could escaping without trying to look so suspicious. I didnt know why I was worried though because I never carried out the crime. I never intended for anything like this to happen anyway. All I cute my mates to do was give him a good b eating to get the message through to him that he should leave the country.I got home and went straight up to bed without saying a word to anyone. The next morning I tried for hours to get through to the boys in Brixton. Eventually when I did get a reply it was an elderly woman who had just locomote in and knew nothing of any boys that used to live there. The boys had obviously decided to leave and rightly so after what they had done. I thought I was in the clear. I picked up a newspaper on the way to school the following day and it had the steep build up story of what had happened to Mr Loren the night he had been take awayed.It said that he had been shot five times in the head and chest and had keep up serious bruising all over the body. The paper was asking for witnesses to come forward. Even Mr. Lorens family was offering a reward for the capture of his brutal murderer. A shiver ran down my spine. All I hoped was that the murder weapon was still in the safe hands of the Brix ton boys.A few weeks later the murder weapon had been found in some nearby woods. The particle accelerator was to be checked for fingerprints and I knew that it would have the Brixton Boys prints all over it.I was misuse I had been framed. I remember as a boy dig pigeons with a small colt pistol that the Brixton boys had given me. When I left I returned it to them as I no longer needed it and said I was mending my ways. They werent best pleased as you could well imagine. I now know why they were only too pleased to help me. They wanted to get me back for all those times when they did something wrong and I ratted on them.. I now know never to trust a living soul again.tried life on the run for a few days but eventually I couldnt take it anymore. I give myself in. I knew I stood no chance of defending myself as the gun had only my prints on. I am now facing a stop up unit then when Im eighteen I will be moved into a secure unit.After a few weeks of life inside I learnt of the sad death of my father, which inevitably lead to the sorrowful self-annihilation of my Mother.