Being bullied was one thing. Losing my metal bat was another. And the most hated thing of them all remained myself. Who would ever love themselves when they're pathetic? I was like the embodiment of the latter. Somber, I walked the streets with my head low, hair casting shadow over my eyes.
'If only I was stronger,' I thought to myself, frowning.
I now had to retrieve my bag again, and that wouldn't be easy at all now that it was stolen by one of the bullies. I quailed at the thought of it. I had to get stronger. If I were powerful when my friends were in danger, I would have been able to protect them.
But now, they were gone.
My stomach seemed to growl at me like a feral beast that held some sort of resentment. Unfortunately, couldn't find any other place offering food. And I couldn't wait in such a long line for chicken soup when I'm a vegan again.
