Revved Revy

Dirty Dreams

There were three of 'em.

Three fuckin' jackass bullies at school that tormented me as a runt. They tried to make me their little bitch. And they did try. But one day, they pushed me right off the cliff of sanity.

I landed so far away from the ground that I tied one of the bastards ended up to the tetherball pole.

The rope looped around his neck like a noose. His red nose had snot running down, a greenish clear as he kept crying out, his legs kicking.

In response, I started to choke the motherfucker, witnessing a scarlet line slash across his neck. My hands felt the roughness of the rope, a burning sensation as he continued to struggle.

So it wasn't a surprise that it led to the principal expelling me.

His name was Robert; he had black hair while the other two bullies, named Billy and Mike, had light brown.

Out of the two brunettes, Billy wore a brown shirt and was taller, more relaxed as he put on a serious face with his hands shuffled in his jeans' pockets.

He was pulling the tough guy act, huh? Lookin' like Al Capone's little twin that hopped out of a clown car. I stifled my laugh at the joke, and of course, Billy frowned harder.

Mike had ruffled hair that moved with the breeze; in his hand, the wind-up toy robot that I had dug out of a nearby dumpster behind the apartment.

Cuts and needle pricks still formed on my skin from how deep I searched for the damn thing. Eventually, I just dumped myself in there, using my hands as if they belonged to a rabid raccoon.

Robert was the one with black curly hair. His belt struggled to keep his stomach from popping the button of his pants. He wore a cocky smirk on his face, his crooked teeth showing like that of a baboon with a red ass.

Mike tossed the toy up in the air; his gaze followed it up and down. His head bobbed at the motion. And he kept doing it, over and over again.

My hands were trembling, restraining from ripping out clumps of my hair out of my scalp. The line of my mouth shook, and I tried to say something but couldn't.

All of them were bigger than me and grades above me. They outmatched me in every way. It was hopeless to fight back.

The entire event happened in slow motion. I could see the robot's antenna bounce with every throw. Mike turned his head and looked at me straight in the eye. There was an evil pit of snakes lost in the dirty brown, all hissing at me, daring for me to stand my ground.

I didn't stand my ground. I did nothing, even when my body screamed to move as I scanned my eyes over them, looking and searching for a weak point.

Spider legs climbed up my spine as I stood straighter, puffing out my chest, trying to look heroic like my robot friend.

Fear overrode my body. I realized it too late when I sucked in a deep breath to relieve myself of the air I was holding in.

Why are they doing this? Why are they trying to destroy the one thing I finally got to have for myself?

So many questions entered my mind at the thought of people hurting me like this. Then I remembered, duh, of course, they would hurt me. My old man does it all the time. A depressing thought, yet it fits my world.

My head tilted back as I looked up at the cloudy sky. The soft wind flowed by, moving the strings of my hoodie so that they were flapping. It's always cloudy on Mott Street; no sun in sight to save me from my fate of being a lousy coward of a kid.