Bystander

One

A fist collided with a jaw before a small boy collided with the cold ground.

He struggled to stand before the girl two grades above him knocked him back to the wet ground.

Laughs erupted through the courtyard when blood began to stream from his rosy nose.

I looked at him with pity and thought: Where are all the teachers?

A bell sounded in the distance and the bully crouched to the boys level and spoke loudly.

"See ya, snot face."

Everyone leaves.
But I stay.

From the shadows, I watch as he struggles helplessly.

He pushed himself up and wiped the tears from his eyes. Blood streamed down his face. Water and mud soaked his clothes. I felt apologetic; but I did and said absolutely nothing.

The sky clouded with grey. His eyes filled with salty tears. A teacher stomped out towards the boy, anger lacing her words as she spoke.

"Alexander! What are you doing?!" She forced him to stand. His will to do so was limited. "Stand up straight young man! Come with me! We're calling your mother!"

I watched as she drug him behind her. The boy, Alexander, whimpered and struggled to speak to the teacher through his tears. "Please, Ms. Carner, don't call my mother!"