Trigger Warning: Bullying and mentions of self-harm.

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My back tingles slightly as I lie on the hot sand with my wings spread open. I resemble a dead bat, sprawled on the ground. Kheldash would say that it's not a dignified pose for a king.

I don't care. I've expended almost all of my mana, and my body begins to grow heavier. But this feels good.

I wonder when was the last time I felt the warm sand against my skin.

Ah...

I remember...

§ § § § § §

Sophomore year of high school. One year before the bus accident involving Jean's class.

Every year, during the summer vacation, Jean's school organizes field trips for its students. Despite being a public school, it's a model high school located in a middle-class neighborhood of Sacramento.

The two options for the trip are usually a beach or a camping trip, and the students vote to decide. Last year, in his junior year, Jean's class went to a beach in Vallejo. This year, the beach won again.

"Why don't these idiots choose the camping for a change? What's so appealing about scorching your own skin in the sun and walking half-naked among strangers?" Jean mutters as he walks away from the rest of his classmates. He's wearing a black long-sleeved shirt with UV protection. The rest of his outfit is also black, including the cap that covers his long hair, now tied in a ponytail.

He looks quite out of place next to his classmates wearing regular beachwear.

"Going to a funeral, weirdo?" Grant taunts. He's accompanied by his lackeys.

"Your mother's funeral, you imbecile!" Jean responds aggressively. This kind of trip puts him in a bad mood.

"Why the long sleeves? Have you been cutting yourself? Hahaha!" Ryan, one of Grant's minions, crosses the line.

It would be easier for Jean to cut Ryan's throat than to cut himself. Not even the gods and saints of Erdonya could imagine what teenagers are capable of in a toxic environment.

"Keep talking, and I'll cut off your dick. That's if Grant hasn't already done it to turn you into his little bitch." Jean retaliates, eliciting laughter at Ryan's expense.

"What the hell did you say, you damn freak?!" Ryan lunges at Jean.

Before a fight could break out, a ball bounces and rolls to Ryan's feet.

"Hey! Let's play volleyball." Elijah calls out to Grant's gang.

"Come on, guys. Don't spoil everyone's fun with this crap." He insists when he sees that the boys hesitate to leave Jean alone.

"Let's go, pal, before he pulls a knife out of his sleeve and starts stabbing you." Grant convinces Ryan and the other boys to leave, leaving Elijah and Jean behind.

Elijah is one of the few classmates whom Jean has a minimum amount of respect for, in a way. He grew up in a violent neighborhood. Jean has always admired not only the fact that Elijah didn't become a thug but also that he is one of the few classmates with a modicum of decency.

"I don't need your help." Jean says after Grant and his cronies leave.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"You're welcome." Elijah responds calmly to Jean's lack of gratitude.

"I'm not thanking you. In fact, we're even."

"What do you mean, dude?"

"If I weren't their target, it would probably be you or Camilo in my place."

"Why do you think that?"

"You're Black and poor. He's Latino and queer. The only reason you guys aren't their primary targets is because there's a bigger target for them. Me. For some reason, they think I'm a more suitable target for their mockery. Maybe because they consider it too risky to go after both of you, as protecting minorities is trendy nowadays."

"Or maybe it's because your personality sucks. That's why they don't leave you alone."

"Maybe. But I didn't start this. I just react. If I'm going down, I might as well take a few of them with me."

"You don't have to fight the world alone, dude."

"I know..." Jean says as he turns his back, walking towards the shoreline.

"Here's some advice: stop being so edgy, dude. The world doesn't hate you…" Elijah shouts as Jean distances himself. But Jean only responds by raising his hand with his thumb signaling okay, without even turning back.

The world may not hate him, but he certainly hates this world."

§ § § § § §

"It feels like one of those generic beach episodes from an anime." Jean thinks to himself as he walks, leaving footprints in the sand that are soon washed away by the waves.

He sits in a more secluded spot, watching his classmates swim, prepare barbecue, and play beach games. Everyone seems to be having fun.

Hours pass, and Jean remains sitting alone. Watching.

"What are you looking at, pal?" Grant comes to torment him again, but this time he's alone.

"What the hell, man. Can't you just leave me alone?" Jean appears visibly frustrated.

"I can't when you try so hard to get attention."

"What do you mean, jerk?"

"Even the chubby Milla is socializing and having fun. Meanwhile, you show up all dressed in black and sit here alone like some kind of lunatic. What's your problem, pal?"

"Sorry for not enjoying your company." Jean sarcastically remarks.

"If you didn't want to be here, why didn't you just stay away?"

"I tried." Jean answers frustratedly. "My parents forced me to come."

"Even they don't want to be around you." Grant smirks.

"And why the hell are you here? 'Pal'."

"I came to check out what you were so focused on... So which one of them are you into?" Grant says after realizing that Jean had supposedly been watching the girls from their class sunbathing.

"I hope it's not Amber. She's with Ryan. Oh pal... He wants to punch you already. If he finds out you're into his girl, he'll come after your neck."

"What the hell! I'm not into any of your girls. You guys can breed with them carefree. Like the animals you are." Jean gets irritated with the insinuation.

"If it's not one of the girls... It can only be..." Grant says as he spots the 'blessed art thou amongst women'. The only boy among the girls. Camilo.

The lad is in swim trunks and an beach open shirt. Wearing sunglasses and surrounded by girls, he is completely oblivious to the looks directed at him.

Grant's twisted smirk widens.

"If it's not any of the girls, it can only be Camilo." He says cynically, expecting a vicious reaction.

But to his surprise, it didn't come. In its place, he is met with a surprising sight. A speechless Jean with cheeks and face flushed red as if by an illness. This sight momentarily startles Grant.

"Oh pal... Seriously? Hahaha." He bursts into laughter.

"What? What are you talking about?" Jean tries to regain his composure.

"You two make a lovely couple. Muahahaha."

"Shut up, you filthy jerk!"

"Which one of you is the girl? Well, your hair is lon..."

"I told you to shut up!"

POW!

Drops of blood splatter onto the sand.

Grant is on the ground. He touches his nose and feels a sharp pain. It's broken. The boy staggers away from Jean, who looks at him like a madman.

The incident quickly drew everyone's attention as Grant ran to the teacher, seeking help to stop the bleeding. Fortunately, the teacher had basic knowledge of first aid.

This outburst of rage was not the last. After several episodes of fights at school and increasingly aggressive behavior from their son, Jean's parents decided to seek professional help.

The school trip that year had to end early, and Jean's classmates began to shun him even more.

In the following year, Jean's class would not choose a beach trip again. They would go camping on the shores of Lake Tahoe.

And what could possibly go wrong on the next field trip?