I don’t know how it happened, but I became that kid. It must’ve been gradual. All I know is that by mid-year of tenth grade I was the local punching bag and errand boy. Everybody avoided me, not wanting trouble by association. Unless I was being ordered around, I was alone.

It was lunch time, and I dropped off Ben’s burrito, only to receive a punch to face. He’d wanted mozzarella cheese, not cheddar, the weirdo. Everybody knows mozzarella goes on pizza. I’d fallen on my butt from his meaty punch, and he kicked me in the gut, light for him.

“Ooff,” this time I doubled over. There would be a bruise on my old bruise.

Ben ignored me after that, his ‘lesson’ taught, and sat down to eat. I crawled away, moving slow, and when I knew he was really done with me, I left.

The bathroom mirror showed an ugly picture, apart from the trashed, absolutely nasty floor, and old plumbing. My lip had swelled and was smeared with blood, my jaw bruising. It hurt as I washed it off, but I was used to pain. Still, Ben normally didn’t hit my face, “too obvious,” as he put it.

A tall boy walked in while I was patting my fat lip with a paper towel, but I ignored him. He did a double take when he saw me though.

“Whoa dude! What happened to you?” I’d turned to him, and he took this as his chance to peer closer at my face.

“Just back off,” I said.

“Man that’s nasty. You get into a fight?” he asked. He seemed the type would only leave alone when he was satisfied with the answer he got.

“No,” I muttered, “Didn’t do my job right, that’s all. Ben can be rough.”

“What?” he paused, “Wait, are you one of Ben’s gofers?”

I cursed my mistake in mentioning Ben.

The tall boy had gotten worked up by now. “He’s such a…” then his voice got all low, “this is enough.” He took care of his business, and marched out the bathroom, standing like I’d imagine a soldier would. It gave me a bad feeling, this man on a mission, so I followed him.

“Where’re you going?” I asked.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“To teach Ben a lesson.”

This got me angry, and I whipped past him, blocking his way. He stopped short, looking at me.

“Why?” I asked.

He scrunched his eyebrows, “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“Why now?” I emphasized the ‘now,’ a dark edge to my voice I’d never heard before.

“Because he’s gone too far,” came the simple answer.

“Too far?” I pointed at my face, giving a short laugh “Too far? You’re naïve. This” My tone grew sharper, “This, was a love tap.”

“Seriously?” he was aghast, which I found funny. This kind of reaction was months too late to help.

“You heard me. So keep out of this. He’ll just trash you too.”

He looked sick, “Then I’m definitely going,” and brushed past me.

“Hey,” I ran a few steps to catch up, “Stop!”

He ignored me and continued walking towards Ben’s hangout. Ben saw me first, and grinned, though he looked more like an animal barring its teeth.

“Back for more?” then his expression darkened when he saw the tall boy. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Hi Ben,” the tall boy said, “Seems like you’ve been giving this kid a hard time.

“Get lost, Jason,” Ben said, jaw tight.

Calm, Jason stepped forward, “You should dodge,” he said.

Then, he walloped Ben real good across the face. Ben roared, the burrito which he’d put down on his lap falling to the floor as he stood. He swung his fleshy fist, but Jason dodged with the ease of a professional, and lashed forward again. And again. And again, until it was over. Ben was on the floor, retching, vomit and smooshed burrito smeared in his clothes. He was panting and red faced from the assault.

He glared at us, hatred tangible. “You’ll…pay for…this.” he wheezed out.

Jason laughed. “Classic. I’m really scared,” he looked at me.

“Let’s go kid.”

I was still a bit slack jawed, but shuffled towards the door. Ben caught his breath and spoke up, causing me to freeze.

“Go with him…I’ll kill you,” our eyes met. He was dead serious.

Jason moved closer to him and pressed hit foot against Ben’s face, and there was something almost soft about the action. Creepy. Ben grunted in pain as Jason increased the pressure of his foot against the fragile skin.

“Keep your foul mouth shut.” This was said in a whisper, which was more disturbing than if he’d had raised his voice.

“Jason,” my mouth was dry, “Second your gone he’ll do it.”

“Okay,” he said, “Listen Ben. You touch the kid, any kid, again, and I’ll come for you. No matter who’s watching you.” He removed his foot. “Got it?”

Ben jerked his head, but anger radiated off him.

“Come on,” Jason turned, and we left. We walked through the halls, and he stopped by the school’s grimy trophy case. He pointed at them. “Those don’t mean much. The real trophies are the ones you never get. Like now.”

I was bewildered, and it showed on my face.

“I’m gonna teach you. It’s time to stand up to the bullies. And,” he grinned, “If they come after me I’m gonna need someone to watch my back.”

Jason held out a hand. “So, what’s your name?”

“Peter,” I whispered, and shook his hand tentatively.

He smiled again. “Nice to meet you.”

It was hesitant, but I returned the smile. “Yeah.”

It was time to stop being a victim.