Disclaimer: While this is not a fan fic, the events in the beginning of this story parallel those in an episode of the X-Files called Zero Sum. I don't own the X-Files or any such thing, but this work is my own creation, so I do own it. Just wanted to get all that cleared up.
I Was Only Seven When The Bees Came To Get Me
by Krystyn Poe
I was smaller than all the other kids in my grade were, and I had glasses. I was very awkward at that age, and I didn't have a lot of friends. I was the little boy that got pushed around by the bullies and was picked last in gym class to be on teams. I was used to it by the time I was in second grade. I used to let the all other boys cut me in line on the playground for fear of getting beat up, mearly accepting this as a fact of life. I let them push me down and take my glasses away, then chased after them wildly so I could receive the gift of sight once again. I heard them laugh, and while I refused to shed a tear, I let them make me insecure and I let them push me away and beat me down. What else could I do, I mean, I was only seven. The fact that I was only seven in second grade, making me one of the younger kids, didn't help either.
Second grade...oh god, I'll never forget second grade. After what happened that day on the playground, how could I? I remember it clear as a bell, and I wish I could just forget it. Forget every minute of it. I still wish I hadn't been one of the ones to survive the incident, I didn't deserve it. I killed the teacher to save myself. How could I have been so selfish?
Everyone tells me that it wasn't my fault...but I was seven. How could I think any differently?
It started as a normal day at recess; I let a couple of boys cut me in line to get on the monkey bars. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, until I heard someone crying. I turned my head and saw the teacher tending to a girl who had gotten a bee sting. Then the boy on the monkey bars yelled "OW!" and dropped off. He too had been stung by a bee. Within an instant, there were bees everywhere, attacking all of us, and the screams, oh god, the screams were horrible. Every one of us was crying and screeching and fighting our way back inside. Someone pushed me down in the dirt, and I lost my glasses. I fumbled around for them for a little bit before grabbing hold of them, but the bees were everywhere. My body felt as if it was on fire from the stings. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I was scared to death, I thought the bees were going to kill me, because they were getting thicker by the moment. There were so many, I was afraid to breathe for fear of getting one inside me.
Then someone lifted me up and tried to protect me and I ran as fast as I could towards the door. When I finally made it inside, I turned around, expecting to see my savoir behind me, but what I saw was the most horrible sight anyone could ever see. My teacher had sacrificed herself for me, she was on the ground writhing in pain and screaming in agony. Before long the bees were all over her, you couldn't even tell there was a human body lying there, save for the screams. In that instant I realized what I had done. I had fallen and I had caused the teacher to die. I tore my vision away from the glass door and ran as far away from everything as I could get, crying not from physical pain, but from the heart-wrenching emotions I felt as I realized she was dead and I was alive.
Eventually someone found me and took me to the hospital with all the other children. Many of them died too, but it's all a blur. I should've died. I shouldn't've let the teacher sacrifice herself for me, I wasn't worth it.
This whole incident has hung over my head for my entire life. I cannot escape the guilt that killing the teacher has left me with. If I had not existed, if I had been just a little faster, if I had been able to find my glasses a moment sooner, none of this would've happened. It could all fade away with the rest of my blissful memories from that time in my life. I would give anything to go back and save the teacher from coming after me.
Everyone still tells me it wasn't my fault, but seven is an impressionable age. And unfortunately, for all of us, the wrong thing was impressed into our minds. The fear and the pain of the incident have effected all of us, but me most of all. I know my actions reflect this, for I've come to have such a paranoia of bees that I will either run and hide from the sight or sound of them even remotely nearby, or I will try my best to kill each and every one of them so that they won't cause any more pain and suffering. I also have developed a strong dislike for beekeepers for harboring these monsters and threats to society. They care for them, nurture them, and they are crazy to care for such a destructive beast. I'm still very insecure, and I can't hold a steady job. I'm paranoid of everything and I'm afraid to make friends for fear of killing them too. To put it mildly, second grade ruined my life.
I can no longer take the pain, and to anyone who actually gave a damn about me, I apologize, but I've got to visit my teacher now, tell her I'm sorry for what I did to her. Talk to my classmates from back then and beg their forgiveness for my weakness. Death has been a companion of mine for a long time, but now is my time to join him and his followers.
To anyone who finds this, I be ye farewell, and ask of you one small favour: Let the bees keep my glasses, for they have claimed another victim and deserve to see their next through my eyes.
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