bullying the bullies | aspir | ✓

02 | hurt

02

h u r t

"What the..." Immediately I push myself out from under him and I stand up. He looks up at me, his face bruised and bleeding. His mouth is gagged tightly with a thick rope, and his hands and legs are tied up too.

But what makes my fear return in huge waves are the blood-stains on his white t-shirt.

I stare at him, as he whimpers in pain, looking down at the ropes and gesturing me to untie him. I tentatively walk forward, but my hands are just an inch away from him, when I suddenly stop.

I could just leave right? Then I wouldn't be a part of this problem. Whatever this is, it's huge. It's a deadly game that I don't want to be a part of. I've already got enough on my plate to deal with, at the moment.

"Sorry," I whisper and turn around to the exit of the class room, ready to wrench open the door and leave. Right when I'm about to open the door however, he lets out a helpless cry.

I do the worst thing possible and I turn around to look at him, and my heart breaks even more. It's his eyes. His eyes that will probably haunt me, if I don't help him. They're big. They're brown. They're scared.

And what's more, is that I can see a lot of myself in him.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. I walk up to him and kneel down. "You owe me big time," I mutter as my shaky hands remove the ropes from his hands. Once those are done, he flexes his fingers and then reaches up for his face and removes the ropes that have gagged his mouth. I untie the ones on his legs, and once I'm done, he attempts to stand up by pushing himself up on his elbows.

He immediately falls back down, his knees getting the full brunt. "What's wrong with you!?" I ask, as I secure his shoulders. He looks up at me as though he wants to say something but he shakes his head and looks down. "Come here," I say as I support him up. I lead him to one of the chairs in the classroom and make him sit down.

Once that's done I walk up to the front of the class-room. Our school, Appleton High always has a First-Aid box near the teacher's desk. Once I locate it, I pick it up and set it down in front of him. I take out the necessary equipment and begin treating the injuries on his face. He doesn't flinch away, nor does he show any sign of pain when the antiseptic solution touches his wound. Almost as if he's used to this.

I move onto his neck, daubing it with the cotton swab dipped in the solution. Once I'm done, I'm contemplating whether or not I should treat his wounds under his shirt. But before I can say anything, he yanks his t-shirt off, and I gasp at the sight of his wounds.

"What did they hit you with?" I whisper out shakily. I don't wait for his reply however and I immediately go to work on his rather serious injuries.

Once I'm done, I place the the items back into the kit and then I dispose of the cotton swabs. I take a seat beside him, after that and with my index finger under his chin, I lift his head up so he can see me.

"So are you going to tell me who did this to you?"

He doesn't reply and I notice that his eyes are fixated on something else. I follow his line of sight to see that they're staring intensely at the four crescent shaped bruises on my left forearm. They're now crusted with a small amount of blood, and in the haste of treating to his wounds, I completely forgot about mine.

I sigh as I take my hand and cradle it. "It doesn't really matter, right? It doesn't matter who did it to us. All that matters is that we keep letting them do this."