[1875 Words]
In the gap behind Westbrook High School, closed in by a fence and with a forest behind it. The ground was uneven, scattered with dirt, bits of gravel, cigaret buds, empty vape containers, and the sound of distant traffic barely reached past the large building walls.
Seniors surround a student on the ground behind Westbrook High School; he's curled up, shielding his head, chest, and groin. Seeing this, it irritated one of the bullies.
The group held a loose circle around him, some of them moving around to find better places to hit him, some watching, others glancing at each other as if waiting for a signal to keep going or stop. The student on the ground stayed curled in the fetal position, pressed tight against himself, refusing to react outwardly.
"Hahaha, look at this little wimp protecting something that he will never use." A good-looking, black-haired, brown-eyed, young man with a strong, well-built physique, said as he was kicking the guy in the fetal position, aiming particularly for the groin.
Each kick followed a rhythm that made the others flinch slightly or smirk. The sound of a shoe hitting flesh wasn't loud, but it was audible behind the school. The boy being targeted stayed silent, his body tensing but not unfolding, as if this was the only control he had left.
The young man getting beaten did not make a sound; he just stayed quiet, knowing that if he let out a scream, that would only encourage them to make him scream more and more till his voice became hoarse.
A few of the surrounding students shifted their feet, one stepping half a foot forward, then stopping and going back to where he was, while another looked away for a moment before looking back at the boy on the ground. The silence from the victim made the situation feel less enjoyable and stretched out the time between each sound of fists and feet hitting flesh.
"Hey, umm, Jace, I think that's enough. What if he gets seriously injured? That would ruin your college football prospects," one of them, not as good-looking but with the same or even more exaggerated physique, said, slowing down on the kicks.
Jace, the main bully, looked like he wanted to retort, his mouth opening as if another insult was already forming, ready to be thrown. But the logic he had just heard was solid and hard to argue against. It stalled him for a moment; he just stood there, staring down at the young man he had just beaten, weighing whether it was worth it.
"Tch… whatever," he muttered under his breath.
Instead of continuing, he stepped back. His boot-clad foot lowered, no longer striking. The sudden lack of pain made the young man shiver in slight fear but also feel hope that the pain would end at least for now.
He didn't move right away; he kept his body curled, tight and protective, as if expecting another hit to come anyway. It was not the first time Jace had chosen to stop, but then he started to beat him again.
Jace turned, already half-done with it, his crew moving ahead of him as if nothing had happened. Their footsteps were casual, their voices low, fading. He started to follow, but then he stopped.
Something made him turn back, just enough. He turned his head over his shoulder and looked again at the young man.
The young man had finally begun to uncurl himself, slowly, like every movement had to be made with an immense amount of pain behind it. He pushed himself just enough to lift his head. One eye, his only clear one, locked onto Jace. It burned with hate.
The other eye was swollen shut, and blood still ran from his forehead, slipping down the side of his face, dripping off his jaw.
Jace held that look for a second.
'Still staring at me like that?' he thought. 'After all that?'
Something in his expression hardened again.
"Next time, don't expect me to go easy on you, you fucking BITCH!!!" His voice echoed through the alley, loud enough that the others ahead turned slightly, glancing back.
Jace didn't wait for anything to be said in return. He turned fully this time and walked off, catching up with his crew, his steps quick and dismissive, like he hadn't just beat a classmate.
The young man stayed in the fetal position for a few seconds more, breathing unevenly, each inhale dragging, each exhale shaky. Then, slowly, he let himself fall back completely onto the ground.
The hard surface pressed against him. It was cold, but his blood warmed it slightly, but also became colder from the pavement.
Pain was everywhere. His ribs, his spine, his arms, his face, they all blended into one dull, constant throb that wouldn't end.
He stared up at the clear, blue sky above him. Looking at the birds flying around with not a care in the world. People on the streets that he could see in the cracks of the walls, some of them were hugging, others kissing, and everyone was just living life.
'…It's so quiet,' he thought.
His throat tightened.
Tears tried to come, the feeling rising out of instinct more than anything else. But nothing followed; they did not fall.
'There's nothing left.'
The young man's good eye stayed fixed on the sky, unblinking. The world kept on moving with or without him; that is how the world works. It will still spin, things will die, others will be born, others will live their lives happily with a loving family and or friends, while others will be the living dead who keep on moving, just going with the motions that are expected of them.
He saw a small bug crawling up a tree just to be taken by a bird, a plant growing from the outdoor eating garden of a restaurant, a family of four just out and about on a walk, laughing and just living, and then he looked into a shattered mirror, seeing himself.
His forehead is bleeding, his eye is swollen, his teeth are broken, and the bruises can be seen through his white shirt with many red spots all over it.
'Mom, Dad, Sis, why... why did you all have to leave me here alone? I know I always said I wanted to be alone, and I would have been fine with it, but that was a lie. I miss you all of you and your faults.'
The thought didn't come easily. It broke apart just as he had thought of it, it strained against his already hurt body and mind; it was like something was dragged up from the deep recesses of his mind.
'…I didn't mean it,' he added in his mind; the thought was hollow just like him. 'I didn't know what being alone... truly alone, actually meant.'
With that thought, the tears that he thought had been used up and dried out poured out as if a dam had broken. His chest tightened, his breathing turning into short, uncontrolled gasps like he was having a panic attack. He didn't even try to stop them, but nothing other than that showed on his face.
'I miss you… I miss all of you…'
The young man could only remember the faces of his dead family.
The small smile of his mother cooking in the kitchen as he helped her whenever he came out of his room, how they would laugh and sing with the sizzling of the food sounding out in the background.
"Don't just stand there," she would say, glancing back at him with that same soft smile. "If you're going to hover, at least stir this."
"I'm not hovering," he would reply, though he would always come in and take the spoon, anyway.
"Yes, you are," she'd laugh, nudging him lightly. "And you always will."
Their voices would mix with the sound of oil crackling, the rhythm of something heartwarming. It was his way of getting close in his own way.
'…I should've stayed longer,' he thought.
The stern but loving look of his father every time he told him about how he was first in his class, and the school, no matter what was put in front of him, and how his father would suddenly give him a question whenever he passed by, and how he would always answer correctly.
"What's the derivative of this?" his father would ask without warning, already holding out a paper.
"Easy," he would answer, barely slowing down.
"Then say it." And he always did, correctly.
His father's expression would stay firm for a second, but then it would be replaced by a small approving smile and nod.
"Good, don't get lazy," he'd say.
'I'll never get to hear you say that again,' he thought, his jaw tightening. 'Not even once more.'
And his beautiful sister, who was one of the most loved and envied young women in the school, how she would always try to compare her beauty to his handsomeness and always lose, while she was one of the most beautiful women, getting some of the best genes from their parents, but he got all of them.
"Be honest," she would say, leaning into his personal space with a grin. "Who's better looking out of the two of us?"
"You already know the answer," he'd reply without hesitation.
"Wow," she'd scoff, crossing her arms. "You know confidence doesn't equal truth, right?"
"It does when I'm right."
She'd stare at him for a second, then laugh, a loud and unrestrained laugh that she would always use when she was truly happy... she was almost always happy.
"Unbelievable, I'm clearly better."
"You're clearly better in second place."
"Rude." But she was smiling the whole time.
'I didn't even tell you that you were…' he stopped himself; he didn't want to finish the thought.
But all of that was gone, and he fell even deeper into himself, the memories pressing him down instead of holding him up.
And his looks and smarts were envied, and that envy grew to hate, and hate grew to this repeated beating that left him on the brink, twice a day, every single week.
'All of that… just for this?'
His fingers twitched slightly against the ground, weakly.
'If I were more extroverted, more assertive, more confident… would this never have happened?' But no answer came; just like everything he thought of, he had no one to receive feedback from.
'It's quiet now… so quiet, maybe I should just get some sleep, just for a second, the pain won't follow me there, hey, and when I wake up ill be 18.' With that thought, the young man, who had been through so much, had finally given up, maybe not outwardly or even inwardly but in his soul and his body that... that part of him had given up.
And so, with many regrets and thoughts running through his head, the young man died, but in another place, a life is just being awakened, and the cycle continues: death & life or life & death, love & living, living & love, pain & surviving, surviving & pain, while the order may change for some, it is a never-ending cycle.
[Author's Note: If you're confused about anything, stick with me; I'm making this as we go! Leave a comment and tell me what you like and don't like. I will do what I can, so leave a review and tell me what you may want to see; and as you know, this is a harem, what type of people would you like to see in it?
Disclaimer: I have a rough idea of where this is going, but I haven't mapped out every single detail or an overarching idea. So if you have suggestions to make the story better or what type of person you might want to see, please leave a comment and review! I hope you like the story. While I do use AI, I don't think it is slop, and if there is any, I will try to change it and or add humanity into it, but just give me a chance.
Ending Note: Have a great(if you're not religious) or blessed day, and check out my other account where I publish fanfiction. It's called FanFictionDragon231:)]