you grabbed me from behind in the hall. you spun me around forcefully and shoved my sleeves up to reveal my collection of scars and scratches. you smiled when you saw them. then you grabbed my arm and twisted like an indian burn from elementary school. some of them broke open again. but i didn't give you the pleasure of seeing me cry.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Bully
Short StoryStory told from the point of view of the bullied. Written like letters.
