The sound of Itsuki's voice sent shivers down my spine, a sick satisfaction evident in his sadistic tone as he advanced towards me. In his hand, he held a broomstick like a weapon, ready to strike. Panic seized me, and I scrambled to my feet, desperate to escape back downstairs where safety lay. But before I could make my getaway, Jiro's strong grip latched onto me, holding me in place.
"Let go of me! You sick bastard! Help me! Please!" I shrieked, my pleas falling on deaf ears as Jiro forcefully struck my cheek with his open palm.
The impact left a burning red mark in its wake and sent me sprawling to the ground. Without hesitation, Jiro yanked me up by my arms, keeping me standing while his lackeys restrained me with their combined strength.
Their laughter filled the air as they took turns delivering painful blows to my body, each hit feeling like a personal attack. The pain was unbearable, causing me to double over and struggle for breath as it felt like all the air had been forcefully driven from my lungs.
"P-please... please stop," I whimpered, barely able to get the words out amidst the onslaught. This was different from the usual beatings - each strike felt like a direct assault on my very being, adding to the overwhelming sense of humiliation that consumed me.
With tears streaming down my face and sweat stinging my eyes, I endured the torment, my spirit crushed, my body bruised and battered, and my dignity stripped away with each merciless blow. Why? The question echoed relentlessly in my mind as I screamed in agony. Why was this happening to me? What had I ever done to deserve this twisted nightmare inflicted upon me by Itsuki?
As I stood there, feeling utterly weak and powerless, I couldn't help but realize that this was just the natural order of things - the strong dominating over the weak. And in that moment, I was the weakest of them all, a coward who couldn't even fight back.
The assault continued relentlessly, each blow striking me with excruciating accuracy. Strangely enough, I barely felt anything beyond the numbness that had taken over my body. The onslaught seemed never-ending, and as time passed by, I could feel myself giving in to the violence.
Before long, vomit spewed out of my mouth, staining my already dirty shirt. But still, they kept attacking me without mercy.
Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the haze of pain and despair. It was Sensei Tanaka, our school's basketball coach. In that moment, a glimmer of hope surfaced within me - maybe he had come to save me?
As I silently prayed to whatever higher power might be listening, I felt grateful for his intervention.
But then Itsuki's voice rang out loud and clear - "Gosh, old man! What took you so long?" His tone was mocking and carefree as he approached Tanaka with a high-five.
Wait...what? Did Tanaka know about this and choose not to save me?
"I thought you wanted to give this idiot a chance to fight back?" Itsuki sneered as he turned towards me, his gaze filled with contempt before spitting on my shoe and delivering a brutal stomp on my foot.
I let out a cry of agony as the pain shot through every inch of my body. Meanwhile, Tanaka stood towering over me like an intimidating figure, continuing to rain down blows on me alongside Jiro.
With a sneer on his lips and contempt in his voice, Tanaka commanded his lackeys to release me. My body hit the ground with a sickening thud, my muscles screaming in agony from the merciless beating I had just endured. As I lay there, trembling and gasping for breath, my eyes fixated on the gate that surrounded us, searching for any glimmer of escape.
But even as fear coursed through my veins and I longed for liberation, I was paralyzed by the memory of previous attempts to flee this cycle of torment. The thought of death loomed in the recesses of my mind like a shadowy specter, a tempting escape from the unrelenting hell that defined my everyday life.
"Stand up!" Tanaka's voice thundered through the air once again, his anger palpable as he strode towards Itsuki and snatched up a broom. His gaze then landed on one of his lackeys, venom dripping from his words as he barked an order.
The stench of sweat and urine filled the air, mingling with the bile rising in my throat as tears streamed down my cheeks. I looked up at Yua, silently pleading for her help, but she stood by with a glint of cruel amusement in her eyes.
"Please... help me," I whimpered, reaching out to her in desperation, clinging to the faint hope that she might intervene.
But my pleas fell on deaf ears as Tanaka brought his foot down onto my back with brutal force. The pain was unbearable, but it paled in comparison to what came next.
Yua pulled out her phone and began recording as Tanaka mercilessly beat me with the broomstick. Each strike felt like fire coursing through my body, tearing through flesh and bone with savage intensity. I screamed until my voice gave out, the pain too much to bear.
And yet, as I lay there, broken and bleeding, those on the rooftop watched with indifference. No one intervened, no one showed even a shred of empathy or remorse for my suffering.
Tanaka continued to inflict agony upon me, savoring each moment as he dragged out the pain before forcefully thrusting the broom back in. My body convulsed with each strike, and soon, blood began to mix with my tears as I coughed it up from my battered lungs. It was a never-ending cycle of torture that left me gasping for breath and praying for it all to end.
But the screams didn't stop, not even when my voice gave out and left me gasping for air in the suffocating silence that followed. The lunch break seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight. It had only been fifteen minutes since the bell rang, signaling the start of the break, yet it felt like an eternity since the nightmare began.
I longed for the broomstick to snap in half and pierce my body, ending my torment once and for all. Anything would be better than enduring this suffering—this unrelenting torture inflicted by people I once considered friends.
How had things come to this? What had I done to deserve such cruelty? The questions echoed in my mind, unanswered and seemingly unanswerable as I grappled with the incomprehensible injustice of it all. It wasn't me who was wrong, but the world—a world that had abandoned me, leaving me to suffer alone in the darkness.
***
I ran away from home. After a few days, I returned dirty and unkempt.
"Oh... You're back?" My mother's words cut through me like knives, slashing at my already wounded soul. The venom in her tone only fueled my rage, tearing down any remaining restraint I had.
"Your son runs away from home and all you can say is 'you're back'!?" I shouted, my words seeping with anger and bitterness. It was futile; I knew she wouldn't care. But in that moment, I couldn't hold back the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume me.
Her response was cold and dismissive, stoking the flames of my anger with each word. In that moment, something inside me snapped. A primal instinct took over, drowning out the outside world and leaving only a relentless drumbeat of thoughts echoing in my ears.
"Kill... Them... Now."
The command echoed in my mind, driving me forward with an uncontrollable urge to seek revenge. I had no choice but to obey, to unleash the darkness that had been lurking within me and take control of life and death.
For three days, I meticulously planned my every move, gathering the tools I needed to carry out my mission. The knife, glinting in the dim light, was my instrument of justice—a symbol of the power I now held over life and death.
And so, as my mother's mocking laughter filled the room, I made my final move. With one swift, decisive motion, I drew out the knife and plunged it into her throat, silencing her once and for all.
As her blood spilled onto the floor, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The deed was done, and there was no going back. I was finally free—free from her cruelty, free from her scorn, free to create my own destiny in a world that had shown me nothing but pain and suffering.
The knife, slick with crimson blood, disappeared once more into the depths of my pocket, a silent witness to the darkness that now consumed me. My hands shook as I stood amidst the wreckage of my shattered life, taking in the destruction that had been wrought by my own hand. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the damp earth and musty smell of decay.
But this was only the beginning. There would be others—those who had wronged me, those who had mocked and scorned me—they would all pay the ultimate price for their sins.
For I was no longer a victim—I was a predator, a force to be reckoned with in a world that had underestimated me for far too long. And woe betide anyone who dared to stand in my way, for they would soon learn that the wrath of a broken soul knows no bounds.
***
Sensei's calm voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the classroom, providing a momentary respite from the chaos that had engulfed my life. His gentle demeanor and genuine concern offered a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak existence.
"Thank you, Sensei," I muttered, grateful for his kindness even in the face of my own shortcomings.
But as the class snickered and whispered amongst themselves, their mocking laughter felt like daggers aimed at my already wounded heart. It was a constant reminder of the humiliation I had endured just days before.
From my seat by the window, I could see dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon, mirroring my own tumultuous emotions. The wind howled outside like a wounded animal, echoing the pain and anger within me. It was as if nature itself was mourning the loss of my innocence, which had been cruelly ripped away by those who claimed to be my friends.
As Itsuki's smooth voice invaded my thoughts with an invitation to join him for lunch, a cold shiver ran down my spine. He was like a vulture, circling his prey with calculated precision. But I refused to let him see my fear, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken me.
With a forced smile, I nodded in response to his invitation, determined to hide the turmoil raging within me. I knew that I couldn't afford to show weakness, not now, not ever.
As the lunch bell rang out, signaling the end of class, I braced myself for the inevitable stares and whispers that awaited me in the hallway. But no matter what they said or thought, I refused to let them break me. I was stronger than they could ever imagine, and one day, they would regret the day they crossed me.
As I approached Itsuki with a newfound sense of determination, a surge of confidence coursed through my veins. I was done being afraid, done being their punching bag. It was time for them to face the consequences of their actions.
"I'm not scared of you anymore," I declared, locking eyes with him and refusing to cower under his gaze. This was my moment, my chance to reclaim my dignity and put an end to the torment once and for all.
But as Itsuki dismissed me with a casual wave of his hand, brushing off my declaration with ease, I saw my opportunity slipping away. I couldn't let him get away with it, not this time. With a swift movement, I drew the switchblade from my pocket and lunged towards Jiro, aiming for his throat.
The blade found its mark with sickening accuracy, and Jiro crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood. It was a gruesome sight that would haunt me for years to come, but in that moment, I felt no remorse. He had brought this upon himself, just like my mother had. With a sense of grim satisfaction, I turned my attention to the remaining two lackeys, determined to finish what I had started and finally reclaim my power.
As I took a hesitant step forward, a deafening bang echoed through the air, the sound reverberating off the surrounding buildings. My body froze as a sharp, searing pain shot through my shoulder, causing me to stumble backwards in shock. The world spun around me as I struggled to maintain my balance, my vision blurred and swimming with waves of agony.
With trembling hands, I reached up to inspect my shoulder, only to find that the fabric of my shirt was now soaked in blood. Panic seized me as I watched the crimson liquid trickle down my arm, staining the ground below. A gunshot? My mind raced as I frantically searched for the source of the attack, but all I could see was a shorter man in an unfamiliar uniform holding a smoking gun on the rooftop.
Amidst the chaos and pain, I heard more gunshots, none aimed at me. To my astonishment, it was the cop who had taken matters into his own hands, firing back at Itsuki and his lackeys, even the coach. Another shot pierced through the air and suddenly I was on my knees, a surge of intense agony tearing through my stomach.
I crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the new wound and drenching me in its sticky warmth. In a daze, I clutched at the gaping hole in my abdomen, struggling to make sense of what was happening around me. Amidst the fog of pain and confusion, my grandfather's words echoed in my mind -
"Sometimes doing what's right means making tough choices."
I looked over at Jiro writhing in pain beside me and felt the weight of my actions crashing down on me with unbearable force. What had I done? Was this really who I was meant to be? Tears welled up in my eyes as I grappled with the enormity of my sins. In a desperate plea for forgiveness, I reached out to whatever higher power might be listening, begging for absolution in the midst of the carnage I had wrought.
The police officer approached me with a smile on his face, but all I could see in his eyes was a reflection of my own guilt and darkness. As the world faded into blackness, one undeniable truth remained - I was not a monster, but the scars of that day would haunt me forever.
"I am not a killer," I whispered before succumbing to unconsciousness.