How to Deal with a Bully

Consolidation

My brother stood at my door, with a wisp of a smile playing on his lips. He had a cup of tea on one hand; rubicund with tendrils of steam rising from the surface. His expression seemed to shift in the space of ten seconds. At first, he looked like he was revelling on my discomfort, then he looked like he wanted to throw a hideous jape, and then I could see his jawline relax and there was the deepest sense of melancholy etched in every line in his face. His eyes were narrowed with concentration.

I stared into his eyes from my blurred vision. It took me a good thirty seconds to register what the bloody hell just happened. When I came to my senses, a cacophony of malevolent ideas bubbled into my head, each one more malicious than its predecessor. First I envisioned I was going to haul him into the floor and kick his arse. Then I thought that wasn't enough and I needed to break his nose with my knee and wipe that hideous smile of his face. Nah, that's not enough! I needed to stab with a rusty knife, eviscerate his skin and feed its remains to a hungry animal. 

A voice whispered in my ear, 'You're a cunt, remember? You couldn't beat a girl even if you grew a pair of balles.' The voice was Mason's.

As infuriating as it was, I knew I couldn't overcome my brother in a one on one fight. Though he wasn't the most robust of fighters, he stood a good foot taller than me and my punches would make him giggle rather than hurt him.

I found my voice, "You absolute, pri-"

"Yeah, yeah sure! You're angry and you want to kill me right now." He waved a dismissive hand. "We've all been through it. Fortunately I had dad, so I had to hold my tongue. But if I was in your position, I would have probably cussed as well."

I said nothing. He had this whole scene revised. Evil prick.

Eric walked towards me and sat opposite me on the ground, "This leaves us with three options: either have a cup of tea, and talk about it. Or pretend nothing happened and go about-"

"I'm going with that option!"

"Or tell mom and dad -"

"No!" I realised I was standing right now. I don't know what message that would convey but I hoped it would be formidable.

My brother said nothing, and instead took a long sip of tea with relish.

I sat down reluctantly.

"What's bothering you, lad?" The question was softly spoken.

I responded with silence.

"Still gobsmacked by Arsenal's loss to West Ham, aye?" He chuckled.

I gave him  a scowling glare.

"School assignment you failed?" He prompted innocently.

I simply rolled me eyes.

"Girls?"

I turned and looked at something sufficiently hard to throw at him. I grabbed my second year Spelling Bee Trophy to knock his head off but he raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay okay. Sorry. Jeez," I could tell he was doing his best not to stifle his mischievous smile.

I put the trophy back on the shelf slowly.

"Which leaves the most likely option: you're bullied."

At this moment, I suddenly appreciated the wallpaper in my room and I decided to look at it.

"I'll take that as a yes." His voice suddenly changed. It wasn't the playful tone I heard thirty seconds ago. 

"What his name?" The question was very flat. He asked it as if he was an interrogator wanting a villain to divulge the place where a hostage was being kept.