Locked Doors

“What’s up, Pike?”

The words pull me out of my trance and back into reality. I must have been staring at the computer screen for too long again. My chair is forcefully whipped around and I face the open area of my room. It is completely dark except for the glow from my computer screen behind me, and I can’t make out any of the twenty faces standing crowded in front of me. This time my words would do no good, the size of the mob is enough to drown out any doubts still held by a few individuals. Two hands grip each one of my shoulders, and before I can swing my arms free they are wrapped behind me back. POP! Yep, there goes the left pinky finger. Was breaking that really necessary? I don’t have time to contemplate the motive behind injuring such a defenseless finger; I am worried about what is going to happen next. They pin me down on my desk with my arms and legs locked so that I can’t fight back. Squirming around is useless and only makes me weaker. The only thought in my head is that my entire front is exposed. Like a torrential rainstorm the punches come. And just as is true with any fierce storm, it is impossible to distinguish between each drop that lands on your body, and none of your body remains dry for more than a few seconds.

Finally it stops. I let myself open my eyes hoping they had enough and were leaving. But no, everyone is still there, conversing in whispers, and I am still pinned down pathetically on my desk. Then I hear my shower turn on. Apparently one of my asshole roommates is completely ignoring the situation at hand. But I suppose it’s not really his place to intervene.

Unable to stand up on my own from all the dead-leg punches I received, I am lead to the front of the room with my legs dragging behind me. The thought of me looking like a puppet who is wearing a black and blue shirt crosses my mind. I guess it could be worse. I think they are getting ready to throw me out into the hallway, but a glance to my left informs me otherwise. The shower curtain is on the floor and nobody is in the shower. If my attackers could hear my thoughts, then this realization is the cue they were waiting for. Tape is drawn out and my wrists are woven tightly together. This makes me remember my finger was just broken. Lost in thoughts about losing the use of my pinky forever, I don’t notice being thrown into the shower. That is until I land, hard, on the cold marble of the shower floor. Bitter cold hits my chest and stings like needles in every spot I was punched. I still can’t stand up. I might as well not have legs, at least then they wouldn’t be cold and wet.

Everyone is laughing as they leave the room and the mess they made out of me. I finally manage to roll over the step that separates the shower from the sink area when my roommate appears in the doorway. His eyes open wide and the shock on his face doesn’t make me look forward to seeing what I look like.

“Fucking help me dude.”

This initiates a response from him and he hurries over to untie my wrists and tries to help me to my feet before I can tell him it’s no use. He rolls my chair over and helps me onto it. I sit with my head down, breathing heavily as I grab a towel from the rack.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

I manage two words between deep breaths.

“Freshman hazing.”

My roommate is silent for a few minutes as I regain composure and the use of my limbs. I feel like I can speak again so I break the silence.

“I knew it was coming tonight. That’s why I fucking locked the door. How did they”

I am cut off by my own thoughts. Putting the pieces together slowly in my head, I notice the disturbed look on my roommate’s face.

“I totally forgot. I wasn’t thinking. I stepped out for like a minute to take a piss. I can’t believe this happened. You know I didn’t mean to. Whatever you want man, I’ll make it up to you.”

I place my head in the palm of my right hand. All I can do is shake my head and sigh.

“No. It’s fine. I just would have gotten it worse if I hid from it too long.”

Welcome to the life of a Midshipmen.