Joseph found himself back in the Timekeeper’s chamber, the room lighter than it had been when he first arrived.

“Why did you do that?” he shrieked. “I only wanted a moment longer with him.”

“I told you, none of it was real until you made it so. Your father is now alive in this time.”

Joseph looked taken aback by the Timekeeper’s words. His father was alive. He had saved him – and if could save his father, there would still be hope for his mother. But the last memory of her went back further than that of his father.

“Does that mean we get to save my mother now?” he asked, as he stalked closer to the Timekeeper.

“That is not how time works, Joseph. I explained this before,” the Timekeeper intoned as he placed the clock in front of Joseph.

He noticed that the date had changed. March 12^th, 2016. What did his 16^th birthday have to do with his important memories travelling back in time?

Joseph picked up the clock and turned the short arm. The world dissolved before him once more.

 * * *

The ringing of a bell gave Joseph a clue of where they might be, then the sea of blue and yellow uniforms confirmed that they were at his old high school, Lancea Vale Secondary, in the heart of Eldorado Park.

Joseph and the Timekeeper stood in the courtyard, watching students pass by and readying themselves for the morning assembly. The air was crisp; he watched some of the students shiver as their Principal spoke.

“I don’t understand,” Joseph intoned. “Why is this day so important?”

The Timekeeper only stared ahead, almost as if paying him no mind.

“Timekeeper, I don’t even see myself amongst these students …”

“Precisely. Where were you?” the old man cut him off before he could continue.

The memory of the day suddenly struck Joseph square in the face. He knew precisely where his past self was, what he was doing and what the consequences were. Joseph darted towards the unused sports ground at the back of the school.

“Leave me alone,” a voice wailed. “I don’t have anything.”

“Ek se, give me your money, you fat fuck!” another voice blared.

Joseph watched the group of boys beat, kick and dehumanize the boy who was on the ground. He noticed his past self, standing a few feet away from the quarrel.

“Eh Joe, you don’t want a piece of him?” one of the boys asked. “Too in love with your bastard brother?”

“He’s not my brother,” Joseph barked. “He is my father’s bastard, not my mother’s son.”

“Who cares, Joe? If you don’t get your beating in, you will no longer be part of our gang.”

Joseph watched his past-self shoot the boy a cold look, and sprinted past the others, making his way to the assembly.

The bullies left their victim and made for the school assembly as well. The Timekeeper appeared next to Joseph.

“You could have done something, Joseph. You could have run to one of the teachers. You could have reported the boys afterward, but you did nothing. You stood idly by and watched a boy get beaten up by those older and bigger than him. His whole life could have been different had you done something…” he trailed off.

Joe felt the heat of shame on his face. He was but a boy, an ignorant youth, then. How could he have known that the boy would kill himself the very same day?

“He was never anything to me, Timekeeper. He is the reason my parents fought over the years, and I could never forgive him for that.”

“Was it the boy’s fault that he came into the world? Can you blame him for being born out of adultery? He never had a choice in the matter and yet you judged him,” the Timekeeper replied.

The words landed a soft blow, yet it did hurt Joseph to think that he mistreated his stepbrother – simply because he was born from another woman.

“Make the memory real, Timekeeper,” he said, before running to help the boy who lay, as if lifeless, on the sports field.

Without a word, the memory was made real as Joseph reached the boy.

“Quinton, wake up, wake up!” He tried to shake him awake.

Quinton coughed up blood and used his hand as a visor to block out the sun. He looked half-dead, defeated not only by bullies, but by life itself.

“Joseph, you came back. Why do you look so much older? When did you grow a beard? What happened to the lumpy hair?”

He helped the boy to his feet and dusted him off. Quinton grimaced as Joe patted his calf, pain shooting up to his thigh where the boys had bludgeoned him.

“You have to tell the Principal or one of the teachers, Quinton. It cannot go on like this.”

The boy’s face was ashen, save for the blood and spittle on his face. “I can’t, Joe. They’ll just find me and beat me up again if I tell anyone, and who is going to believe me anyway?”

“Then I will vouch for you, Quinton. I will even accompany you to the Principal’s office after the assembly.”

Joseph embraced the boy the way he did his father. He had made a promise to the boy that he would protect him from that day on.

The memory dissipated once more.

Tell us what you think: Can bullying cause a person to become suicidal? Is bullying a common thing in your community?