13 REASONS WHY// Glorybringer [Completed]

[6] Bullies? you bet (Part 2)

If the troubles ended there, I might have lived. I might have moved on. Accepted that some troubles had to be overcome in life.

But they didn't stop.

And you, Kestrel Goldenberg, striked me over and over again.

And you made a clear message-

Three strikes, and you're out.

"Welcome to your tape, Kestrel Goldenberg"

~

I always believed that bad things had to end, just like good things did. Just one more night, I told myself. Tomorrow, everything will be better.

But my story didn't end that way.

To be honest...I was afraid of you. You were big, and your muscles rippled through your body like mountains. I have never felt much physical pain before, and I wanted to be on your good side.

But, somehow, at the practice for the play, The Dragonet Prophecy, I irritated you.

"The play calls for a boy with jet-black hair and brown eyes! You're not supposed to be here!" You somehow thought the play was very important. It, somehow, had a great meaning to you. You were the director, and I guess you liked being important.

And I had messed it up by just standing there.

The teacher snapped at you: "It's okay, Kestrel! We're out of actors already!" He seemed extra moody. "You don't have to be so picky, in the name of God!"

You seemed angry. You gave me a glare and pushed people out of the way until you reached me. You seemed embarrassed that you were being yelled by a teacher, and you found someone you could blame all your troubles on: me.

You grabbed me by the collar— which surprised me, making me stagger backwards— and snarled, "We will settle this tomorrow."

I was scared.

I knew your reputation, Kestrel. I knew you were the school bully and that I had got to your bad side. I wanted to say sorry. I wanted to beg the teacher to replace me with someone else.

But I didn't have the guts to do it.

Every single line of my part, which wasn't very long, I messed up. Whenever you screamed at me, I messed up even more.

Then you snapped.

While the teacher wasn't looking, you dragged me out of the gym and pushed me to the wall and punched me.

I felt the raw pain, felt your fists press my cheek as you punched me harder and harder.

"You messed it up!" You snarled. "that play is important, and we can't do it perfectly with you, freak. You're a stupid moron. A lazy, idiotic moron that is simply worthless."

I fell from your grip, bleeding. You kicked me in the stomach and I wanted to cry. So much pain. So much emotion. So much words.

I curled up into a ball— and then, in a moment of silence, you gave me a look, almost gentle. You seemed to feel pity. It probably wasn't. Maybe I was feeling an urge of nausea. I was close to passing out.

Then it was gone.

You went in, and I heard you say "She felt sick and went home."

I did go home, bleeding and barely able to walk. You thought I had a big, cozy house with my own little family, didn't you? Someone I could tell you on, or make myself feel better with?

I didn't.

I lived in a small apartment and my parents put me to foster care when I was only two months old. I lived alone, and I had no one to share my bad days with, or laugh about my good days.

I had no one. Simply...no one.

Do you know how many days I suffered? It made me angry, how you had a perfect, rich life and ruined lesser people's lives.

I already had cuts on my arms. And you made them bruises.

You have no idea how much I cried in the shower. It wasn't because of the pain outside. It was the pain inside.

You have no idea how much pain you caused me in both sides.

If they ended there....

You know the drill, don't you?

You beat me up the day after my first beating.

And another.

Nobody got a beating three days straight— so why me?

Deathbringer hated himself for remembering now- but he remembered when Glory acted very fidgety one day and talked to someone privately. He didn't see the face since they talked in a different room, but he remembered thinking that it probably was Ms. Blaze, who didn't like Glory for some reason. A few minutes later he went out to search for her, but she was gone.

I'm sorry, Glory. He didn't know it, but tears were forming in his eyes at his friend's long suffer. I should have been there....

I'm sorry.....

My cuts became bruises. My bruises became scars.

My scars caused pain. Pain caused tears.

Tears caused suicide.

All connected beautifully, don't you think, dear, dear Kestrel?

The final night, do you remember what you whispered to me?

Because, unfortunately, I do.

After two hours of beating, in the dark, dark night, this is what you whispered in my ear:

"Three strikes, you're out."

Then you didn't beat me again. But I know you were pleased when I quit the play. I had to wear a thick sweater and lots of makeup until the bruises on my face started to heal. It took a long time.

My heart never did, though.

You moved on and targeted other kids. You didn't look back at the girl with green stripes in her hair that you beat for three days. I was just another plaything for you. You probably didn't give me a second thought. Everyone moved on.

I never moved on, though.

I always got jumpy after your beatings. whenever someone tried to hug me or even touch my hand for comfort, I would snap and move it away.

The truth was, I was scared.

Did you enjoy? Enjoy hurting people that were weaker than you? Did you take pride in what you did?

Three strikes....

....and you're out.

Forever.