You know how a few days ago I said tomorrow might be worse ?
Well that's today.
I really wished bullying happened only in dramas and stayed fictional .
Wouldn't that be a good thing?
Today was a Wednesday ,it was sports day .
I had just taken off my shirt and put it in my gym locker , when the door was shut close.
I think my heart skipped a beat.
My eyes widen,
' my fingers nearly got smashed' it was scary.
" Hey ghostie" The leader called out, it was a few unpleasant times we met but his voice was committed to memory.
I didn't respond at first ,
'he's not talking to me' I tried to think so but he was talking .
"You deaf ?" one of his lackeys snickered, roughly shoving my head into the cold locker door .
It hurt.
I slid to the floor ,my head buzzing with pain, the others laughed ,
"Not so tough now are you?"
Another kicked me right in the gut ,again and again till I curled up in pain,
a wimper threatened to escape.
I refuse to be a dyging dog so I held it in.
It hurt , it hurt badly.
My toes clenched and unclenched , I wrapped my arms around myself as a shield – a weak one.
The leader raised his hand and the boy stopped , He crouched and held my head up tugging at my hair .
I couldn't see properly but it was clear – the ridicule in his eyes.
It was humiliating.
But what could I do?
Nothing ....
Languidly He patted my cheeks ( it was painful than any slap I'd ever received ),
He laughed "Next time I call ,you answer, so ...we can talk things out" His face magnified," Got that?"
He lets my head fall againgst the floor,
He scrunched
"That has got to hurt" He turned to someone as he stood up
" Hey, chopstick!, gimme" He gestured for someone to come closer.
The person's footsteps were light, unwilling, forced .
Someone hits the back of his head and he stumbled forward,
"He....here you go sir " a tiny nervous voice said.
" Sir?" The leader was annoyed at this, He rudely grabbed the chapstick and made a stabbing motion, the boy flinched.
" Anyways you cracked your lips" he tossed the chapstick at my face .
" Here" .
Silence.
Not entirely, I could hear my labored breath.
I won't cry, I refused to.
That's what I told myself as became as I laid motionless on the floor trying to move a muscle so I can to sit up.
" Next time I should try to throw a punch or two " as if I could .
I just thought about what should I have done .
My lips quivered as I bit down on it, my chest felt tight , I so badly wanted to cry.
DESERTED AREA .
I was back at my safe heaven .
I stood before a body length mirror, feeling sorry for my bruised body.
I licked my dry lips and the taste of metal lingered on my tongue, a rusty reminder of defeat–it was bitter.
I had no faith in my first aid skills but I have to manage ,I couldn't risk getting caught with all this injuries, my brother would worry plus I would get a scolding .
After to fixing myself up – barely , I laid on the bean bag staring at the silver ceiling fan,
' Shining'
"The envelope " I shot up , that's was a painful thing .
I never opened it , now I wanted to but I also didn't want to move because my body ached, still I couldn't stop thinking about it.
So with a hiss I mean I moved to get the envelope .
Back on the bean bag I felt great .
This time I didn't hesitate to open it.
As a student I don't think it was a letter because it only had one word written on it, " Hello" in english, strange, I flipped the paper a few times hoping there was something else but that was it ," Hello" .
"All that packaging for this?" I found it unbelievable and disappointing.
" Well this is expensive prank " I laughed for the first time in a while .
I flicked the paper away and shut my eyes then I sat up .
It hurt.
I picked up a piece of plain paper and wrote " Hello?" on it.
My writing in english wasn't pretty but it would do , I folded it and put it into the elegant envelope.
Whether this was a prank, a ghost, my delusions,
I didn't care , I needed some fun in my life.
With that I gave a reply.
Like a thief I tiptoed into the house overly aware of my surroundings .
I was about to walk up the stairs to my room when something prickled. A sensation ran down my spine.
I paused. My breath hitched.
I thought my brother had caught me ,
' Aisssh ,I'm finished ' .
Slowly turning my head I saw him.
Seated on the couch.
He didn't speak. He didn't move.
He just stared.
Eyes dull .
Pale.
Blank.
Eyes that looked through me , into me , past me , Mouth closed.
Arms neatly placed on his lap .
Prim and proper.
The posture of a doll.
The tension of something barely alive.
"Good evening Dad " I whispered nervously.
No response. Not a blink. Not a twitch.
He just stared.
As I walked up the stairs, his eyes followed me– the only sign that he was alive.