I know what makes you happy.
It's not hard to figure out. It's the games, right? The little games you like to play. The ones where I'm the one who always ends up tagged. I figured it out that night—the night you turned me red.
Red with anger first, but then it wasn't that kind of red anymore. It was the scarlet dripping from my head. It was the hot splash of cherry juice spilling from my skull. Yeah, you liked that, didn't you? Watching it leak out. Watching the fresh air rush in through the cracks in my head as the world around me started to spin.
The sky was gray, the same color as the clouds licking at the gray matter leaking from my open skull. There was snow on the ground, cold and wet, mixing with the warmth of the grass beneath me. The contrast made everything feel surreal, like the earth was confused about what season it wanted to be. It was all the same to me by then, though. The snow, the grass, the blood—it didn't matter.
I could feel my life leaking out. Slowly, slipping away.
I wasn't alone either. I was surrounded by friends. You were there. All of you. Dinosaurs, every last one of you. A triceratops, a pterodactyl, a T-rex, a stegosaur, a raptor, a parasaur, an ankylosaur… all my friends. And I'd known you for so long. I'd helped you when you cried, I'd stood by you when things got tough. I'd been there, every time, like a good friend should.
And now, you were standing over me. Watching me bleed out. I did my best to make you happy. This was the thanks I got.
The sound came first—the crack. It was quick, but loud. Like a gunshot. But it wasn't a gun. It was a bat. A nice, heavy wooden bat, slamming down onto my skull. And when it connected, it was like everything inside me spilled out. The world turned black.
But it didn't end there.
I felt myself being lifted, dragged. My body was soggy, wet from the blood and snow. Then the cold water hit. I was tossed into the river, and for a second, the cold calmed me. Always did. Too bad it was winter, though. The water didn't soothe me like it used to. It just froze everything. My body, my skin, my mind. My hair turned this weird muddy red color, like wine mixed with dirt. That's what happens when you get half your blood beaten out of you, I guess.
Time blurred after that. I remember sinking. Going under. The water closing over me, the cold biting at my skin, numbing everything. But somewhere, I remember thinking: This is probably bad for my hair.
Then… nothing. For a long time.
The next thing I remember is the beeping. That goddamn beeping. It was a machine. Life support, I think. The steady hum of it drilled into my brain for what felt like forever. I was in a hospital, I figured out later. Someone had found me, fished me out of the river. They weren't dinos, though. Just some nomads, passing through. I don't even remember what they looked like. All I know is they saved me from dying.
Maybe they shouldn't have.
I was in a coma for months. My hair changed color, from the blood and the cold, turning this deep, dark red. My skin went pale too, almost sickly white, like I was dead already. I feel half-dead now. I don't know if that makes me a revenant or something. A vengeful spirit with unfinished business. But that's how it feels. Like I shouldn't be here. Like I should've stayed in that river and let everything go.
But here I am. Alive, I guess.
I don't know why you did it. I still don't. That's what eats at me the most. You were my friends. We had good times, didn't we? We laughed, we hung out, we helped each other. So why?
I try to remember that night in pieces. The first blow came from the triceratops. I remember the way you looked at me, your face all twisted up in some kind of sick grin. You were the first one to swing. You hesitated, I think. For just a second. But then, CRACK. The bat slammed into my shoulder, and I felt the bone shatter. I looked up at you, and all I could think about was that time you came to me crying, telling me how no one understood you. I stayed up with you all night. Remember that?
I thought that was why we were friends.
Guess not.
The next hit came from the raptor. You didn't hesitate. You never did. You were always the tough one, the fighter. You swung the bat like you were trying to knock my head off my shoulders. And when it connected, the pain exploded in my skull. It wasn't just the impact. It was the betrayal, the disbelief. I had your back, every time. Even when you were picking fights you couldn't win, I was there.
Now you were the one finishing the fight, and I was the punching bag.
Then it was the T-rex. You were always the leader, the one everyone looked up to. You didn't even smile. Just this cold, dead look in your eyes as you swung the bat into my gut. I coughed up blood, the taste of iron filling my mouth. I remember you standing over me, looking down like I was trash.
What did I ever do to you?
The stegosaur was next. You didn't even hit me right away. You just looked at me, like you were debating whether I was even worth it. Then you shrugged and swung. The bat cracked against my ribs, and I could feel them break, one by one. You laughed. I remember that part. You laughed while I gasped for air, choking on blood.
You were always quiet. Always the shy one. The one I thought I had to protect. Funny how that turned out, huh?
The hits kept coming, one after the other. Each of you, taking your turn. And every time, I thought about the times we spent together. How I'd been there for you. How I'd stuck by you when things got tough.
And then you'd swing. And everything would go black for a second. Then the pain would come back. Hot and sharp, like someone was ripping my insides out. But it wasn't just the physical pain. It was the realization, sinking in with every hit. I wasn't your friend. I was never your friend. I was just the guy you kept around until you didn't need me anymore.
And now, you didn't need me.
The last hit came from the parasaur. You were the one I trusted the most. We were close, I thought. Really close. I remember looking up at you, thinking maybe you'd stop. Maybe you'd be the one to say, "This is wrong."
But you didn't.
You swung the bat harder than anyone else. Right across my face. The crack of bone was loud. Deafening. My vision went white, and for a second, I thought that was it. That I was finally gone.
But I wasn't.
I woke up in the hospital. And the beeping started. The constant reminder that I was still alive. Still here.
I don't feel alive, though. Not really. Not since that night. Something broke inside me, and it wasn't just my bones. It was something deeper. Every time I think about it, I feel this pain in my head. Like it's bleeding again. But it's not sadness. It's anger. Pure, burning anger.
I think about you sometimes. All of you. I think about the way you looked at me when you swung that bat. The way you smiled, or didn't smile, or laughed, or stayed silent. And I wonder, what would I do if I saw you again? Would I ask you why? Would I try to understand?
No.
I don't want to understand anymore. I don't need to. You showed me what kind of friends you really were. And now, I'm not the same person I was before. Something inside me has changed. Something dark.
And I think… maybe that's a good thing.
Maybe the next time I see you, I won't ask why. Maybe I'll just finish the game you started.