Abduction
I’m not a loser anymore—I’m different now. Something happened to me last night, something I don’t fully remember, but I know it’s changed everything!
The last thing I clearly remember is being jumped by Jake Stamshaw. It’s about six in the evening, and I’m leaving the school library after studying for Friday’s maths exam.
The cold, wet evening catches me off guard when I feel someone approaching from behind.
BAM!
A fist slams hard into the back of my head, and I go flying down into a puddle on the concrete below.
My face hits the dirty water with a loud splash, as it squirts up my nose and shoots into my eyes, and everything I’m carrying scatters everywhere!
I hear Jake laughing, his voice echoing louder and louder from behind me.
“Well, well, look who it is,” he sneers.
“It’s Skanky Skimpson!”
I hate that name. My name’s Samuel Simpson, but thanks to Jake, everyone calls me “Skanky Skimpson.”
I try to push myself up, but Jake kicks me in the ribs, knocking the breath right out of me. Pain shoots through my left side—it feels like he’s cracked a rib.
“What’ve you got here then?” he says, snatching my books.
“Advanced Calculus for Understanding the Cosmos? You’re such a loser, Skimpson.”
I’m gasping for air, struggling to get up. “Come on, Jake, you’ve had your fun. Give me my books back and let me go home.”
“Boring stuff! Here, let me help you out,” he says, smiling wickedly.
Then, he drop-kicks each of my books into the rain, scattering them all across the ground. I want to hit him, to make him pay for all the pain he’s caused me. But I know I’d miss, and he’d kill me for sure.
Instead, I just stand there, staring, as tears roll down my face.
“What’s wrong, Skimpson? Are you crying?” he laughs.
“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, JAKE!” I scream, finally snapping.
“What did you say to me? No one talks to me like that!”
He’s furious now, angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
“I’m gonna kill you!” he roars.
“I…I’m not scared of you, Jake,” I manage to say, but I’m trembling all over. He knows I’m scared.
He starts pounding his fist into his other hand. THUMP…THUMP…THUMP. The sound gets louder as he steps closer.
Before I can even react, he punches me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
“Got anything else to say, Skimpson?” he taunts. I try to speak, but all that comes out is blood.
“PATHETIC! You’re totally pathetic, Skimpson.”
“Why are you always picking on me?” I spit out through the blood.
“Because you’re a loser, Skimpson! You always have been, always will be.”
His words cut deep because they’re true.
Everyone at school tells me so. No one wants to know me because anyone seen with me gets picked on by Jake.
“You’re a bully, Jake! One day, you’re going to get what’s coming to you!”
“And who’s gonna give it to me? You? Your friends? Oh wait, you don’t have any friends,” he laughs.
“Except maybe Sara.”
“Sara talks to me!” I blurt out.
“What did you say?” His eyes flash with rage.
“Sara talks to me!” I repeat, even though I know it’s a mistake.
“She’s beautiful and kind, and you’re nothing but a giant arsehole!” I shout, my anger and jealousy boiling over.
“You’ve been crushing on my girl?” he laughs.
“Do you honestly think she’d go out with someone like you?”
I don’t answer because there’s no point. Then, he hits me again, harder this time. Blood splatters across the pavement as he kicks me over and over until everything starts to go black. And then there’s a sudden, very loud, strange sound from high above, maybe somewhere in the clouds, and a bright flashing light—and then—nothing…
The last thing I remember before the white light consumed me was the sensation of floating, weightless, as if my body was being pulled apart.
When I woke up, my limbs felt different, heavier, but more powerful. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust.
I was inside a large bright white room, bound to a white table without any noticeable constraints. My limbs wouldn’t move—but I could move my neck and my eyes. That’s when I saw him—Jake lying on top of another white table right next to me.
He turned his head and saw me too. His face expressionless—but a look of deep horror and fear swelled up in his eyes.
I glanced around the room. Ghostly figures moved like candlelight, flickering backwards and forwards in the background, tall and shadowy.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out. And then everything went black again.
“Oi, mate, wake up!” A voice jolts me awake, and someone’s shaking me.“What…?” I mumble, opening my eyes. Everything’s blurry, but slowly it comes into focus.
It’s one of Jake’s mates from the basketball team, drenched in sweat.
“Sorry about the sweat,” he says, wiping his hands on his shorts. “Just finished practice.”
I nod, confused, not knowing what to say.
“So what were you doing down there, sleeping or something?”
“Me? No, just…thinking.”
“You, thinking? Good one, mate,” he chuckles.
“You coming tonight?”“Tonight?”
“The game! To watch me play?”
“Oh, right…”
“You better be there. You’re my good luck charm!”
“I am?”
“Course you are, knucklehead,” he laughs, ruffling my hair in a headlock.
“Okay, okay, I’ll come! Just let go of my hair.”
He grins. “Oh, and Sara’s looking for you. She’s pretty upset you didn’t answer her texts.”
“Sara?” I ask, totally bewildered.
“Yeah, saw her heading to the canteen.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, confused by his friendly attitude.
What’s going on? Why does he think I’m with Sara?
As I wander through the school, people smile at me, and some even give me high-fives!
This has to be a dream. It’s the only explanation. I must still be lying in that puddle, bleeding and bruised and still totally unconscious.
I reach the canteen, and just as I’m about to walk in, someone pulls me back and kisses me. It’s Sara.
“Hey, you,” she says with a smile.
“Happy Birthday, Birthday Boy!”
“Birthday Boy?” I repeat, stunned.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where’ve you been?”
“Just…hanging around.”
“I tried texting you all night. Why didn’t you answer?”
“I dropped my phone in a puddle. It stopped working.”
“You’re such a klutz,” she giggles, kissing me again.
“Come on, let’s get your present.”
She drags me towards her locker, excitement in her eyes. This has to be a dream, but I decide to go with it.
As we reach her locker, a loud cheer erupts behind us. I turn to see a group of kids pinning someone down, chanting, “SPRAY HIM…SPRAY HIM…”
Sara hands me a can of spray foam. “Here, Happy Birthday!”
I take the can, stepping closer to the kid on the ground, his face hidden. His clothes are torn and stained with blood.
“SPRAY HIM…SPRAY HIM…” the chant grows louder.
“Why?” I ask Sara.
“Because he’s a loser. He tried to hit on me.”
“He hit on you?”
“Yeah, Marti and Jay stopped him. They said he needed to be taught a lesson.
”I step closer, and then I see his face—my face, Samuel Simpson. How can this be? I’m Samuel Simpson, aren’t I?
“What’s wrong?” Sara asks.
I look at the spray can, then at the boy on the ground. The realisation hits me like a punch in the gut. My reflection in the can isn’t mine—it’s Jake’s.
My chest tightens, my pulse racing. How could this be?
I touch my face, feeling the sharp jawline, the strong muscles beneath the skin. It’s him. I’m him. I’m Jake. And then I remember. We were both abducted.
Aliens switched our bodies and sent us back. Now I’m Jake, and Jake is me. I have the body of the most popular boy in school, and Jake is stuck in my old, beaten-down body.
He now knows how I felt!
For a moment, I think about helping him. The thought flashes through my mind—should I stop this? Should I make things right? But then I feel the weight of the can in my hand, and something inside me snaps.
Why should I? Why should I help him after everything he’s done to me? After all the hurt—the pain—the humiliation!
I look into his eyes and see the same realisation dawn on him.
“I’M NOT SAMUEL…I’M JAKE!” he screams, but no one listens.
I want to help him. I want to tell them to stop. But then I feel it—the rush of power, the strange thrill of finally being the one in control. It’s intoxicating.
This is what Jake must have felt all those years, tormenting me. And now, it’s mine.
Should I help him? For a moment, I consider it. But then I see the hatred in his eyes. He’s not sorry for what he did to me. He’s just angry about being humiliated.
Suddenly, the hesitation fades, like a giant weight being lifted off my shoulders. Should I really do this? I look at the can in my hand and then over at Jake lying there pinned down on the floor—and I immediately know the answer.
Hell yeah!
It’s definitely time for some payback!
After all, I’m not Samuel anymore. I’m Jake. And I love every minute of it!
I’ve been given a second chance—a chance to start over with a new body, new friends, and the girl of my dreams.
I smile as I press down on the nozzle. Foam shoots out, covering Jake’s face. For a second, there’s silence. And then laughter—my laughter.
It’s deep, cold, and unfamiliar. But it feels good, so good. It’s like all the hurt and fear that had been trapped inside me for years has finally found a way out.
The darkness in me rises, and I love it. I love every minute of it!
This is me—the new me—and I’m everything I’ve always wanted to be.
I stop spraying, and Sara steps over towards me, grabs my hand, and kisses me!
“Happy Birthday—Birthday Boy!” she says with a smile.
I smile back, kissing her one more time—this time deeper and filled with even more passion.
“Wow, you’ve never kissed me like that before!” she says.
“I like it! I really like it,” she says with a devilish smile.
And in that moment, everything I was fades into nothingness. I’m not Samuel Simpson anymore—I’m Jake Stamshaw!
And I’ve never been happier!
THE END
**********
Author’s Thoughts
Revenge is a strange thing.
When someone has suffered for years, it’s easy to understand why they might dream of making their tormentor experience the same pain.
But what happens when that dream becomes reality?
Samuel is given something most people will never have — the chance to step into the life of the very person who caused him so much suffering.
But with that power comes a choice.
Does making someone suffer as we have suffered bring us peace? Or does it simply allow the pain of our past to shape the person we become?
Perhaps the most frightening thing about revenge isn’t what we might do to someone else, but what it might do to us.
And I wonder…
If you could trade places with someone who had caused you unimaginable pain, would you choose justice, forgiveness or revenge?
And if you chose revenge, how much of yourself would you be willing to lose?
Just something to think about…