Door To Michael's House Travis example essay topic

Tossed into the lockers Michael slides to the linoleum in pain. Not so much in his body, but in his heart. Foot, boots, shoes, all a blur jab into his stomach and groin, causing bright flashes to erupt in his head. His towel, ripped from around his body, he lay there naked. Vulnerability and shame paint his face along with silent tears that refuse to give his nemesis the satisfaction that they want.

Closing his eyes he comes to the realization that no one will rescue him from his torment. Everyone in the locker room is involved. Fellow peers he had once known, shared confidences with, participated in the beating or stood watching from each side of him, cheering on Michael's attackers. Leaving their friend to suffer the blows. Michael looks up.

Each boy stares evilly at him, hatred pouring from their eyes and dripping on to him, burning him, scolding his tender flesh. The words, more powerful then any knives and guns they could " ve used. Fag, queer, and other names are hurled at him like stones. How the others had found out he was gay was beyond his knowledge. He had been so secretive and eluded all the so-called gestures and behavior that would have made him the target of others, yet they had found out his secret. Nothing hurt him more then the words.

Being deaf would have been easier than to face this. He longed for Travis, his boyfriend, to be here with him then the barrage of blows. I'm glad he's not here to witness this, he thinks to himself, giving him joy and satisfaction in a time like this. Saying a prayer to God he relaxes, preparing to be taken soon by His arms to a place far away from here, a place where he could be himself and not pretend anymore. Letting go would be so easy. Then I can finally rest.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the beating was over. Unbelieving he looked up into the eyes of his attackers, begging them silently. 'You fag. We don't like your kind here. ' The boy pulled Michael to his feet, supporting him for he could no longer do it himself. His icy blue eyes pierced into Michael's soul.

'Don't ever let me catch you in here. You need to go into the girl's locker room you queer. I don't want you looking at us. ' He dropped the bloody and beaten Michael to his knees. Hearing the zipper slide down, Michael prepared for the ultimate humiliation. 'I bet you " re really gonna like this,' the boy said with a smile on his face.

The others in the room crowded around to view this spectacle. 'What the hell is happening in here?' asked Mr. Nixon, the P.E. coach. Everyone backed up and continue to dress as the boy zipped up his pants. He looked at Michael lying naked on the flood, bloody and beaten.

He glanced around at the others in the room. 'Who did this to him?' he asked. No one replied. The air became thick with a deafening silence. Mr. Nixon looked at Michael and smiled. 'No one saw anything?' he inquired of the others, maliciously.

'Well if no one saw anything,' Mr. Nixon continued, 'I guess no one gets punished. ' He smiled once more, picked up Michael from the floor, and whispered into his ear, 'That's what you get faggot. Get dressed and go to the nurse. ' He leaned closer to Michael and breathed ever so silently into his ear, 'If you tell anyone about this, you " ll wish you never had. ' The locker room exited and left Michael in a bloody pool on the floor. As the last footsteps echoed far into the distance he continued to cry.

Torrents of tears rocked his body. Michael wasn't crying over the beating, but because he was prepared to give up. Michael got up and continued to get dressed, went to his next class, and went home later that afternoon. Reaching the front living room, dizzy with anger, hopelessness, pain, he called Travis. 'I need you here,' was all he would say. 'I'll be over in a sec,' replied Travis, worried.

Opening the door to Michael's house Travis stepped lightly inside. The odor of whiskey dampened the house. 'What the hell?' Michael lay on the bed in his room with bottles of various drinks scattered on the floor. He knew of Michael's drinking problem, always done when he was depressed.

Michael's face was streaked with tears that streamed like water from a faucet. 'What's wrong?' Travis asked, concerned. Hearing Michael's account of the day's events he held him and rocked him as he cried himself to sleep. Travis looked at Michael's angelic face, sprinkled with a few traces of freshly sprouting facial hair. 'Don't worry. One day all this will end,' Travis said.

But he was unsure whether it was to Michael or more to himself.