First crime record

During the two weeks of darkness, I seemed to be abandoned by the world and locked up at home by my parents. The school registration day is approaching, and the school will announce the specific arrangements for junior high school assignments. Because I am a non-agricultural household, according to common sense, I will be assigned to No. 47 Middle School, which is closer to home. Those students with rural household registration will most likely be assigned to the remote No. 14 Middle School, which is a boarding junior high school. Most of the students are rural people or urban residents with rural household registration.

During the two weeks of being locked up, the atmosphere at home was so depressing that it made people breathless. My parents never said a word to me. I was full of fear and did not dare to take the initiative to speak. However, tomorrow is an important announcement day for the school. During dinner, I still plucked up the courage and asked with a trembling voice: "Tomorrow, can I go to school?" As soon as the words came out, I saw my father suddenly picked up a bowl and threw it at me. Fortunately, it did not hit me. I knew he was deliberately venting his anger. He asked angrily: "Do you still want to go to school? You beat the teacher, robbed money, and you still want to continue studying?" At that moment, my heart sank to the bottom of the valley. I didn't expect that my parents would know about the beating of the teacher. That unreasonable physical education teacher actually went to complain, which made me very angry. But I knew in my heart that I didn't hurt anyone at all, and this false accusation made me feel wronged.

My mother then said: "Do you know how your four classmates are doing now?" I shook my head blankly. Then, my mother told me about their situation one by one. Guan Yu, who used a folding triangular thorn to hurt people, was under the age of 14, so he would not be sentenced, but he had to go to a juvenile detention center for education; Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun, who took the lead in robbing money, had the same ending. As for Ma Chao, because he had some connections in his family and was not the mastermind, he was forced to participate, so he escaped. After my mother finished talking about them, she didn't mention me alone. I was panicking and thinking to myself: What about me? Am I going to a juvenile detention center too?

Then, my mother gave me a long and earnest ideological education: "Our family is just an ordinary working-class family. We have no money and no powerful people. If it weren't for your aunt's help, you would have to go to the juvenile detention center." Hearing this, my heart was relieved a little and I breathed a sigh of relief. But my mother's next words made me feel like I was falling into an ice cave: "It is still a period of severe crackdown. Although you don't have to go to the juvenile detention center, you can't go to junior high school this year." I was stunned for a moment and blurted out, "Why?" My mother told me that the school asked me to repeat the grade and read the sixth grade again.

Hearing this news, tears burst out uncontrollably. My parents obviously didn't expect me to suddenly break down and cry, and they were shocked. They were worried that I would be troubled by the teacher if I went back to school to repeat, and that Huangmao's family might cause trouble for me. After thinking about it, they decided to let me repeat the grade at home, that is, take a year off and wait until next year to go to junior high school. Even if I have thousands of reluctances, I can only accept it helplessly in the face of reality. This may really be the best solution at the moment. I asked my mother again: "How much money did our family lose?" My mother did not give a direct answer, but sternly warned me: "You stay at home for a year, you are not allowed to go anywhere, and you are not allowed to contact anyone!" In this way, I started a long life of taking a leave of absence.

Every minute and every second of the days of taking a leave of absence at home was extremely long, not to mention that I was in adolescence, and my body and mind were developing rapidly. At that time, although I was a little sensible, I was still a child in essence. My birthday was in October, and I was relatively young, so I went to school a year later. In that era, most northern cities went to elementary school at the age of 8, so I entered the campus at the age of 9. Now I am 15 years old. After taking a year off, I have to be 16 years old to enter the first grade of junior high school. Whenever I think of my classmates and my lovely girlfriend who have successfully entered junior high school, I am full of envy and regret. I blame myself countless times in my heart that I really shouldn't have participated in the foolish thing of robbing money.

During this year, I was like a caged bird, locked up at home by my parents every day, and every time I went out, I had to be accompanied by my father or mother. The only people I could contact were relatives, and every time I met them, they all criticized and educated me. Over time, I became taciturn, didn't like to talk, no longer smiled, didn't cry easily, and even lost interest in sports. Every day I stayed at home playing the Subor game console and reading comic books. A friend of my mother opened a newsstand, which gave me a steady supply of comics to read. I read a series of popular comics such as "Arale", "Ranma Half", "Wreck-It Ralph", "Fist of the North Star", and "The Son of God". At that time in 1996, being able to read new comics every day was not something that children from ordinary families could do, and ordinary students simply didn't have the conditions.

After reading comics for a long time, I couldn't help getting bored, and I started to have bad ideas. During the day when my parents were not at home, I secretly pried open the drawer where they locked things. This prying seemed to open the door to a new world. The three things in the drawer completely changed the trajectory of my life in 1996. A novel with explicit content, an adult videotape and a sexy photo album, these novel and exciting items allowed the 16-year-old me to come into contact with the secrets of the adult world for the first time, and also made me fall into an irresistible sinking and deeply addicted to it.

Due to the long-term lack of communication with the outside world, my whole state became more and more abnormal. My personality became extremely withdrawn. From the naughty child I used to be, I became a "little monster" that everyone around me felt was weird. My parents also noticed my abnormality and no longer locked me up at home, giving me the right to go out freely. It was the spring of 1996. Although I was free, I seemed to have lost interest in the outside world. I still stayed at home all day and didn't want to go anywhere. It was rare to say a word all day. Even if the neighbors came to visit me and talked to me, I turned a deaf ear; the same was true when I went to my relatives' house, I was silent and ignored them.

My parents were really panicked and realized the seriousness of the matter. They knew that if I continued like this, I would be completely ruined. So they took me to the hospital. After a detailed diagnosis by the doctor, I was diagnosed with depression. After returning home from the hospital, my parents fell into deep self-blame and regret. They regretted that they shouldn't have locked me at home every day. During that period, there was constant fighting at home, and my parents quarreled fiercely every day.

Since I got this disease, I have to take a white pill on time every day. My mother would talk to me every two days. The content of the conversation was always very euphemistic. I understood that she was carefully testing me to find out if I had a tendency to commit suicide or other abnormal thoughts. Every time I answered no, but in fact, I knew in my heart that I was really sick, and the disease was not mild. Every day at home, reading comic books, my thoughts began to run wild; watching the videotape, I was even more crazy. Gradually, I developed a strong resistance to going back to school. I didn't want to face my classmates from the bottom of my heart, fearing that they would laugh at me for being a repeater.

When I was in elementary school, the hooligans at the school gate looked mysterious and powerful to me. At that time, I was looking forward to being like them after entering junior high school, and becoming a hooligans. But who would have thought that after experiencing those things, my thoughts have changed drastically.

I plucked up my courage and told my mother nervously: "I don't want to go back to school." I was prepared to be beaten and scolded by my parents. After all, I had caused enough trouble before. However, to my surprise, my parents did not hit me. On the contrary, they began to coax me patiently, persuaded me to go to school earnestly, and repeatedly emphasized that the past was over and hoped that I could start over.

As the footsteps of summer gradually approached, the day of school was getting closer. Since I learned that I was about to return to school, I was entangled in nightmares every night. In the dream, the yellow-haired boy who was hurt by Guan Yu always appeared. He lay weakly on the ground with a painful expression on his face. Although I have tried hard not to recall those terrible scenes, this nightmare has accompanied me intermittently for more than ten years.

Although I resisted in my heart, some things could not be avoided after all, and I still had to go to school. I heard from my parents that there were some problems when I was going to school. Because I was repeating a grade and taking a leave of absence at home, the school seemed to have almost forgotten me. Fortunately, my father worked tirelessly and ran to the school several times. After running around, he finally got the junior high school thing done, and the school had been open for a week at that time.

The day before I went to school, my parents spent a lot of time giving me psychological counseling. They encouraged me gently and firmly, and let me face the new beginning bravely. With their efforts, I finally accepted the reality and reluctantly embarked on the road of studying in junior high school a year later.

On the first day of school, my mother accompanied me to school. We first found the principal, who then handed me over to the director of the teaching department, who then took me to the classroom. At the door of the classroom, the director called out a female teacher and talked to her for a few words. Although I kept my head down and didn't say anything, I could probably guess what they were talking about. The director mainly introduced my situation, saying that I had been on leave for a year and had been repeating a grade at home. I had fought, had conflicts with teachers, and had some bad behaviors before. More importantly, I also suffered from a mental illness - depression. I hoped that the teacher would take care of me and report any situation to him in time.

During the whole process, I kept my head down in shame and didn't dare to look anyone in the eye. The female teacher took me into the classroom, and I looked up at the doorplate of the classroom, which read "1st year 12th class". As soon as I walked into the classroom, what caught my eye was a room full of students, densely packed, estimated to be at least sixty people, squeezing the classroom. Our class of students is the largest in the past ten years or so. When I was in elementary school, there were only about forty people in a class. Looking at this crowded scene, a strong sense of panic surged in my heart. I was very scared. At that time, I was more certain that I was really sick. I even doubted whether I was pretending to be sick, but the reaction at this moment made me understand that I really had a mental illness.

The teacher briefly introduced me to the students and arranged for me to sit on a chair in the last row first, because there was no matching desk for that position. The teacher said: "At noon, you go to my office to move a desk." I nodded and walked to the back. In an instant, more than 60 pairs of eyes in the class looked at me in unison, my heartbeat accelerated sharply, and a strong sense of nausea came over me. I kept shouting in my heart: I don't want to go to school, I want to go home!

I couldn't listen to the morning class at all, and I couldn't adapt to this strange and nervous school environment. At noon, some classmates came to talk to me. They curiously asked me if I was the leader of the "Five Tigers" in a certain elementary school before, and whether I was held back because of a conflict with gangsters. I was full of annoyance and didn't want to pay attention to them at all. Maybe the incident we had caused was too big. All of my classmates in primary school knew about our incident, and the school must have used us as negative examples and criticized us in a school-wide notice. I guess my classmates who were one year younger than me also heard about it. After all, more than half of the students in our primary school came to this junior high school, so I must have become famous. Although a year has passed, the stories of the five of us are still circulating on campus. But they don't know that I am now just a patient suffering from depression, a fool with a heart full of pain and confusion.