Behind the school building, in the shadow of the tall brick walls, Dave found himself cornered. Robbie and his group surrounded him, their smirks sharp and predatory. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, a hint of rebellion and cruelty mixed together.
Dave's arm throbbed where he'd been hit earlier, dark bruises already forming. He clutched it close, trying not to show the pain.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice hoarse and tinged with disbelief.
It wasn't just the beating. It was the sheer malice in Robbie's eyes that stung the most. The question wasn't for his attackers but for himself. What had he done to deserve this?
"Why?" Robbie sneered, stepping closer. His voice dripped with mockery. "Still playing the clueless victim, huh? You think you're better than us, don't you, Dave?"
"I never said—" Dave started, but Robbie cut him off with a cruel laugh.
"Shut up, loser!" Robbie's voice snapped like a whip, and with no warning, he drove his knee into Dave's stomach.
The air rushed from Dave's lungs as he doubled over, coughing. His knees hit the gravel hard, but he refused to cry out. The laughter of Robbie's friends echoed around him, amplifying his humiliation.
"Look at him! Still trying to act tough." Robbie spat on the ground near Dave. "You know what your problem is, Dave? You think you can just… exist. Like the world owes you something for showing up."
Dave gritted his teeth, his head spinning. He wanted to fight back, to shout, to defend himself, but his body betrayed him.
Robbie crouched down, grabbing a fistful of Dave's hair and yanking his face upward. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Dave saw nothing but sheer malice in Robbie's gaze.
"What's happening to you right now? It's your fault, you little coward," Robbie hissed, his voice low and venomous. "People like you disgust me. Weak, useless, and full of excuses."
With a sneer, he shoved Dave's face down into the dirt. Gravel scraped against his skin, but Dave stayed silent, refusing to give Robbie the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.
"If you ever decide to fight back," Robbie continued, standing over him like a king addressing a peasant, "you better go all the way. No half-measures. Otherwise, you're just wasting everyone's time."
He turned to his group, dusting his hands off dramatically. "I'm done with him. Let's go."
One of his friends shifted uncomfortably, muttering under his breath. "Isn't this going too far? What if he snitches?"
Robbie froze mid-step and slowly turned to face the boy. His eyes narrowed. "Snitches?" he repeated, his voice a deadly whisper. "Dave wouldn't dare, would you?"
He crouched back down, his face inches from Dave's. "You wouldn't tell, would you, Davey boy?"
Dave didn't respond. He couldn't.
Robbie smirked. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're too much of a coward to do anything about this."
Straightening up, Robbie shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to leave, but then he stopped abruptly and looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh, almost forgot," he said, as though recalling a casual detail. "You've wasted a lot of my time today, and time is money. Let's call it… a million to even the score."
Dave's eyes widened. "What?"
"Relax, I'm not unreasonable. I'll take installments. Every day, you bring me my money—or you disappear. Your choice." Robbie's grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the faint light.
Dave's stomach churned with a mix of fear and anger.
One of Robbie's friends tried again, his voice hesitant. "Robbie, don't you think—"
"Shut it," Robbie snapped. "Let's go!"
The group filed away, their laughter fading as they rounded the corner.
Dave lay on the ground, trembling. His fists clenched in the dirt as a single tear slid down his cheek.
"Damn it!" he muttered, his voice cracking. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
He was furious—at Robbie, at the situation, but most of all, at himself. He hated how powerless he felt, how he couldn't stand up for himself.
After a moment, he pushed himself up, wincing as every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body. His arms and ribs ached, and his head throbbed.
Inside the restroom, Dave washed his face, trying to erase any sign of the altercation. His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed and weary. The bruises on his arm were glaring, but they'd been careful not to leave marks anywhere visible.
Robbie's precision wasn't an accident. It was deliberate.
Dave's hands trembled as he splashed water on his face again. He couldn't go to class like this. Not yet.
He checked the time. The first class was already halfway through. Making his way to the infirmary seemed like the best option—for now, at least.
As he walked down the hall, his thoughts churned. What's next? What do I even do? Robbie's not going to stop, and I don't know if I can take much more of this.
Reaching the infirmary, Dave knocked softly before stepping inside. The nurse looked up, her eyes narrowing as she took in his pale face and hesitant movements.
"What happened to you?" she asked, already reaching for her medical kit.
"Fell off my friends bike," Dave lied, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat.
The nurse frowned but didn't press. "Sit down," she instructed, pulling on a pair of gloves.
Dave sank into the chair, the faint smell of antiseptic filling his nose. For now, he could pretend everything was fine.
But deep down, he knew this was far from over.