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It was the 8th period on a Friday afternoon and all Thomas Jefferson wanted was to go home. He raised his hand at the beginning of his debate class. It was weird because Hamilton wasn't there. It was too quiet and honestly, Thomas was bored. He was the only senior in this class. There was no one there for him to fight or debate with. Or at least someone that put up a hell of a fight.
"Yes, Mr. Jefferson?" His teacher, Mr. Adams said in a bored tone. Thomas threw his head back slightly and said, "May I go to the bathroom, sir?" Adams just rolled his eyes and said, "Sure, but do you know where Mr. Hamilton is."
Thomas groaned and stated, "I dunno. I can't stand the dude." Adams sighed and waved the man off. Thomas grabbed his hoodie that was on the back of his chair as the hallways and bathrooms were always freezing but the classrooms were boiling hot. He pushed open the classroom and door and walked out into the hallways. He threw on the hoodie and walked down the hall to the closest bathroom.
He reached the door and pulled on the handle. It didn't budge; it was locked. Thomas sighed. He didn't feel like walking all the way around the school for the closest bathroom. He didn't even have to go. He was feeling super lazy and wanted to sit in the stall for about five minutes and have a moment of peace. Adams's class almost put him to sleep most days.
Thomas reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. He slid out the blade and picked the lock. Luckily with the way the school was built, they had put little hallways near each door so no one saw Thomas using his pocket knife. He didn't use it too often, he really only kept it for times when walking alone at night or like this. He shrugged and after two attempts or so, he soundlessly unlocked the door.
The silence was what Thomas expected to hear. Though that's not the sound that filled the blue bathroom. He heard sobbing that sounded like it was meant to be muffled. He stepped in wordlessly and saw a rope hanging from the top of the bathroom stalls. A pile of textbooks were in front of it, acting like a stool.
He saw a brunette who held a close resemblance to Hamilton, but Thomas couldn't tell because he wasn't able to see his face at the current moment. The kid was staring at the rope and was crying. He stepped up onto the textbooks and grabbed the rope. Thomas, on the other hand, was frozen in fear. He didn't do well with this kind of stuff but he had to be strong enough right here, right now.
Just as the kid went to put the rope around his neck Thomas felt like he could move his feet once again. He ran forwards and as the kid went to turn around in shock, Thomas tackled the kid to the ground. The textbooks went flying and the rope swung back and forth mockingly. Thomas' back landed on the tile floor his arms were wrapped around the kid's torso. He thrashed around and yelled for Thomas to let him go. Thomas only tightened his grip when his begging became more frantic and desperate.
Thomas waited for the kid to lose his energy. It didn't take too long. His muscles relaxed and he brought his hands up to his face. He cried and cried and Thomas tried to sit up without letting go of the kid. Once Thomas sat up on the cold tile floor he noticed how the boy was shaking so he took off his hoodie and handed it to him. The kid turned around and Thomas made eye contact with Hamilton.
"Alexander?" Thomas said in shock. Hamilton looked away and stood up quickly. He put on the hoodie, shuffled to the handicap stall of the bathroom, and quickly locked himself in there. Thomas got up and went up to the door and hit it a few times. "Alexander, let me in," Hamilton said nothing.
Thomas put his back against the door and said, "I'll jump over the door if I have to. Or I'll crawl under it. Please just let me in." Hamilton just had to be difficult in a moment like this and said nothing. A zipper was heard and then a pill bottle. Thomas' eyes widened. Hamilton wanted to die and was rescued once. He made sure Thomas wouldn't let him do it again.
Pills rattling and spilling into Hamilton's hands was the only noise heard. Thomas dropped to his knees and saw he wouldn't exactly fit under the door. He quickly pushed himself up; he had probably under a minute to get into the stall to save his supposed enemy's life.
He pushed the door open that belonged to the stall next to the one that was occupied with Hamilton. He put his hands on the top and pulled himself up. He hopped over the edge of the divider and fell gracelessly at his feet. He quickly got up and grabbed the half-empty bottle of pills from Hamilton. Thomas had tears in his eyes with the way how Hamilton just looked so done. He looked finished. He was done with life.
Hamilton still had a few pills in his mouth so Thomas roughly grabbed him by the hood and directed him over to the toilet. He pushed his enemy down to his knees and said, "Throw them up, Alexander." Hamilton shook his head and swallowed the pills that were in his mouth.
Thomas cursed under his breath and knelt down as well. He opened Hamilton's jaw and pushed two fingers down his throat until he threw up into the toilet. He pushed his fingers into his mouth once again and made him throw up once more. Hamilton threw up and once he took a breath, Thomas went to do it again. "Stop!" Hamilton cried out.
"Alexander, you need to throw them up before they take an effect." Hamilton shook his head and threw up once more on his own without trying to. Thomas took his clean hand and handed him a hair-tie since his hair was getting in his way. Hamilton put up his hair in a messy and quick bun and threw up one more time.
He wiped his mouth with some toilet paper that Thomas had handed him. There was a moment of silence and Thomas said, "You'll still feel the effect. You'll wanna sleep and you need to stay awake. You'll feel nauseous and dizzy." Hamilton nodded at what Thomas said but didn't reply. "They'll take effect quickly." Hamilton nodded again.
Thomas stood up and grabbed the pill bottle. He looked at what type of drug. It was a heavy nighttime pain drug. He would definitely be feeling out of it and extremely tired. Even though he threw them up right away, it still never gets them all out. He'll still feel the effects, he just most likely won't die from them.
"You're gonna come to my house after school today, alright?" Hamilton looked up at him and his eyes glazed over. The drugs were already taking an effect. Thomas sighed and Hamilton just nodded, too tired to put up a fight. Thomas shuffled towards him and kneeled down. He said, "Hey, Alex. I'm gonna clean up the bathroom, alright? But you gotta do something for me, okay?" Hamilton looked out of it and stared at Thomas, most likely looking past him. He slowly nodded anyways. "You gotta stay awake for me, alright?" Another nod.
Thomas smiled and stood up, quickly cleaning up the bathroom. He grabbed the scattered textbooks and put them in Hamilton's bookbag, which was already in the stall. He got the rope down and threw it in the trash can. He flushed the toilet and kneeled down once again. "Alex, we got about ten minutes of class left. Do you want me to take you back to class?" Hamilton just shrugged and Thomas sighed.
He helped the man up onto his feet. He had to get back to class or else Adams would give him detention for a month. Thomas got the bookbag filled with textbooks. Hamilton was only a junior but Thomas was a senior, yet the man had double the textbooks that Thomas had. He opened the door and walked down the halls with his right by his side. He was basically keeping Hamilton walking straight and keeping him upright.
Thomas reached Adams' classroom and knocked on the door. Adams came over and opened it and furrowed his brows when seeing Hamilton right at Thomas's side. Thomas gave a smirk and said, "Sorry I'm late. I found Hamilton sleeping and skipping class." Adams just sighed and let Thomas in the classroom. He didn't have time for this, plus he just wanted to go home.
He walked the shorter man over to his desk and then went to his own. The rest of the class simply didn't care because it was a Friday and everyone just wanted to leave. Adams kept talking but cut himself off when looking at the clock. There were five minutes left of class. "Pack up your stuff and then you can leave early," Adams said, giving up since no one was bothering to pay attention anyway.
Thomas had been keeping his attention on Hamilton, whose gaze was uncertain and his eyelashes were fluttering shut. Thomas shook him awake slightly and said, "Let's leave now to avoid everyone, alright?" Hamilton nodded and tried to stand up. He walked forward slightly on shaky legs and in a crooked line. Thomas put his arm around his waist and Hamilton put his arm around Thomas' shoulders.
"Lemme get our stuff," Thomas said, grabbing Hamilton's bookbag and his own. The two walked out of the classroom and down to the main entrance. By the time they were walking out the door, the bell had just rung. Thomas and Hamilton walked slowly to the older man's car, and he had helped Hamilton into the passenger side of the car. He had to close the door for him and once he got into the driver's side seat, he had to buckle Hamilton's seatbelt for him. Thomas was quietly thanking every God in the book that they were virtually alone because just imagine the looks and stares and comments they would have gotten.
When driving off, Thomas let his thoughts take him away slightly. He wanted to know what drove Hamilton to suicide. To the point where he was so desperate for death that he had two options. Did he write a note? Hamilton had only turned sixteen a few months ago back in January. The kid had skipped a grade and was the youngest Junior there.
Still, Thomas had admired him from afar. With Hamilton's attitude, Thomas doubted the fact that he could ever have been friends with Hamilton. So, he became enemies with the man. This way, Hamilton would always know his name, he would speak of him. Even if it wasn't in an adoring and loving way, he would at least be talked about by this man. He would just have to live with the fact that whenever Hamilton talked about him, it was insulting.
Maybe it wasn't the best idea to get answers out of Hamilton while he was still out of it, but Thomas needed to know. "Alexander, what made you do this?" He asked while keeping his gaze on the road. The man hummed and said, "I'll give you the note, later. Home." He said quietly. His sentences were broken and in any other predicament, Thomas would this it was adorable. Thomas understood what he was trying to say; he had written a note that explained everything. He nodded at what the man had said and hummed softly in reply.
After driving for about ten minutes, the two arrived at Thomas' house. He had lived with his single mother and it was pretty nice. Luckily, she wouldn't be home right now. He got out of the car and grabbed their book bags, telling Alexander that he'll be back in a minute or so, that he was just putting the items inside of the house. He ran back out of the house and unbuckled Hamilton's seatbelt. He put one arm under his knees and the other under his back while shifting him out of the car.
Thomas carried the teenager into his house while kicking the car door shut. He brought him upstairs and laid the junior on his bed. Alexander reached into his back pocket and grabbed a folded up piece of paper. Thomas read every single typed word, and even in between the lines.
To Whom it may concern:
Yes, this is Alexander Hamilton. You think you know my story; I was the kid who skipped a grade, got in many heated debates, and was very close with Mr. Washington-- a law and history teacher. That's what you all think. I am obsessed with my legacy, you all know that. I want to be remembered in some way, but I utterly and completely give up at this very moment. I do not think I can keep swimming above the waves. I'm in a riptide and I'm losing the battle. Here's the truth: I'm not a swimmer. I never wanted to be in this riptide, but the one and only Mr. George Washington put me here.
He saw me, a lonely kid from the Caribbean who needed validation, and tried to give it to me. I was desperate for validation and acceptance, and he gave me those few things. I was his darling, I was his sweetheart. I, like many others, loved those pet names. They held a special place in my heart.
Until January 11th of my freshman year.
It was a Friday when I had just turned 14. Like I said-- I skipped a grade. I was very young and didn't know what I was doing. I was new to this country, new to this way of life. Friday was pretty nice, my friends Eliza and John had brought me some cookies to celebrate and I was so happy. But Mr. Washington asked to see me after school. I thought I had failed a test or gotten a bad grade, but when I heard the door lock, I knew I made a mistake.
All of my instincts kicked into overdrive but I couldn't get out no matter how hard I tried.
My innocence was taken because of my law teacher. He did this to me every Friday after school, and he drove me home. He called me many horrible names during "sex", some of which I don't even want to repeat. But to name a few; slut, whore, cum dumpster, and a fucktoy.
That's all I was. I was only used for my body. That's why I fought so hard for people to know me for my brain. That's why I turned in assignments early. That's why I got into so many heated debates with Jefferson. They all knew me because of the words I spoke and every action I took. Jefferson didn't know me because I was getting raped by my former law and current history teacher. Neither did Lafayette, John, or Eliza. They knew me because of how smart I was.
The keyword is was.
There is a reason you're getting this. There is a reason you're reading this. The weight was too much. I took my life this Friday, as I don't think I could bear with another Friday after school 'tutoring session'. When freshman year ended, I had never felt freer. When I got my schedule in my sophomore year saying that I had US History I with Mr. Washington, I felt like I had been put in jail for a crime that I did not commit.
Those sessions kept going. Summer came and gone and I was free once again. Junior year I see I have US History II with Mr. Washington and I realized I wouldn't be making it through this school year. This letter was bound to happen.
I'm not sorry. I could never face the fact that the words 'sexual assault' would stain my legacy. So I did this. I left another note in my home addressed to my friends. Lafayette, Jefferson, Eliza, and John. This is explaining why I did what I did. Only, I'm not dumb. I knew Washington did this to others. This is the evidence. Publish this and have other victims speak out. I'm not alone. It's okay to admit that it happened. Just don't let Washington do it to other people. If I truly am alone and I somehow miscalculated, this is my proof. Check my dead body for sexual assault if you have to. I can tell you this; he never used a condom.
I was his favorite, he wouldn't just use me on one day. No, he saved the best for last.
Forever broken and scarred,
Alexander Hamilton
Thomas snapped his head to look at Alexander after fully reading the note. He whispered with defeated eyes, "You're not the only one?" Alexander sat up quickly and said, "Thomas, what do you mean?" Thomas' brown eyes flooded with tears and he said, "He did it to me. It was my freshman year when I took law. Said I was his favorite as well."
"He stopped though, right?" Thomas nodded "I didn't have him for History one or two. I had Franklin." Alexander mumbled something but Thomas caught it. He has whispered the word 'lucky'. Thomas wanted to disagree, but he asked, "Why? Why am I lucky?"
Alexander looked into his brown eyes and said, "Because he stopped." Thomas encouraged him to continue, so Alexander added, "He never once stopped. He's been doing it since freshman year only he's been more brutal." Thomas looked at Alexander with pain in his brown eyes and he reached out for him. He took him into his arms and hugged him tightly. Thomas was not expecting Alexander to just admit that the school's favorite teacher has sexually assaulted two of his best students.
The junior pushed Thomas away and said, "Why? Why did he stop with you? Why hasn't he stopped hurting me? Why Thomas, why?!" Alexander said, hysterical. Thomas gave him a pleading look; he didn't know how to help him. He didn't know the answer. But that didn't stop Alex from ranting about this man who hurt them both.
"No Thomas, I wanna know! What makes me so god damn fucking special? Is it my body? Is it because I always fight back? Did you fight back? Or did you just give in? Did he use to call you names, didn't he? It was always 'darling' or 'sweetheart' in the hallways, but when things happened, you somehow turned into a slut, didn't you? You were his whore. He could use you however he wanted."
Thomas put his head in his hands and started sobbing. He had mostly recovered but hearing Alexander yell the things that he swore not to tell anyone made him feel some type of way. He wanted to hurt Washington but he also just wanted Alexander to shut the hell up. Alexander calmed down and begged, "What did he do to you, Thomas? Please tell me I'm not alone."
This time it was Thomas who was hysterical. "He did call me darling and sweetheart- just like you, and I fell for it! I always fell for it. It was before those things happened. I loved it; no one had ever called me something like that." Thomas took a breath and began to speak in a much calmer tone, "But he locked me in his classroom and he-he fucked me! I told him, no, but he always gagged me. He made it hurt more if I was loud."
Alexander asked, "When did the first time happen?" Thomas clenched his eyes and said, "Middle of January." Alexander shook his head and said, "Mine too. Only what makes it even more fucked up is that he claimed it was my birthday present." Thomas looked at him; completely broken. He whispered a chant of no's over and over again. He knew exactly what Alexander went through. Only his story was just more fucked up.
"We gotta tell someone," Thomas said, holding Alexander's hands. The younger man shook his head and just said, "I know this may sound weird, but can you just hold me? Like can we cuddle and pretend our lives are perfect?" Thomas nodded.
Both of them were silently crying but Alexander put his head on Thomas' chest. He heard his heartbeat and tried to match his breathing. He wiped away the tears on his face and took many deep breaths. They were two broken high school students. They had been assaulted by the same teacher yet here they were. They were going to fix each other. They were going to be okay.