Being the bullied kid is hard. I thought about that every day but I didn't tell anyone else. I was only used to people making fun of me. They're was always yelling, followed by a series of fists at my face. I tried to fight back, but I wasn't strong enough.
I wasn't strong enough. Surely I would be strong enough now. But I remember being weak back then.
That all changed one day, at the back of my school, with a couple of kids too busy puching my lights out to notice what was behind them. All I remember was seeing a flash of red, and then everything turned to darkness.
How many things are red? Blood, was my first thought. Was it my own blood? That's always a possibility, but it wasn't the case. It was something so much more beautiful, yet so much more deadly. Something I am so much more thankful for.
When I woke up next, my body ached all over. I couldn't get up. But that would have been convenient right about then, saying I was in a room I had never seen before in my entire life. It was small and untidy, yet cheerful and girly. I just wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.
About four minutes later, I felt my back start to strengthen. My legs were covered in cuts and bruises, so I wasn't strong enough to walk. Some mega fist must have punched me. I felt like crap.
Sense my back seemed to work fine, I turned around and my nose hit a table. It was the first time I figured out I was laying down. I slowly got my face up to the top. There was tea and pudding on a tray and another plate already taken off. The plate had been completely cleaned of whatever was on it and red juice gathered in the middle. Red. I remembered that.
I started looking for more things that might help me know where I was, and it didn't take me very long to find the only one. Above the plate, long, red locks hung down from above and I followed them with my sore eyes. About two feet above me was a face. I wasn't alone.
The first thing that face ever said to me was, "Are you okay, blue boy?"
My eyes adjusted to reveal a girl sitting on a pillow by the table. I had to tell myself not to freak out. She had red hair alright. And she had yellow sunglasses sitting atop her head, too. A very strange girl she was. This must be her bedroom, considering the bright orange bed on the side of the wall.
I had to stop the heat from rushing to my cheeks. I couldn't process anything in my brain. I'm afraid I was stuttering a bit. She just gave me strange look, like she was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know what.
"Maybe I shouldn't be calling you blue boy." She said finally. "You're hair is blue and stuff, so... I mean, what's your real name?"
I turned my head. "My name is Jellal... Fernandez."
"Fernandez... is that your last name?"
"Well, yeah."
"Oh." I felt all conversation stop as she turned to look at the window.
"Is this your house?"
"Maybe." She wouldn't look at me and then she wouldn't give me a proper answer? "You wanna go home, right? The door is by the kitchen on the right."
She dismissed me with her hand and I decided she actually wanted me to leave. As soon as I tried to move my legs, pain shot throughout my entire body, but then my arms lifted me right off the ground and the pain was gone.
I started walking out the door and I felt her give me one last glance. Then some words started slipping out of my mouth like a waterfall.
"Are you magic?" As soon as I started to speak I covered my mouth. Even though she was looking away, I could still see her smile.
"I wish."
I remember still being injured long after that, even though I couldn't feel any pain. I still was in bed most of the time, and the house surrounding me was dark and gloomy. Yet, so was I. Even when I didn't go outside, the kids still through rocks at my window and called me dork and weirdo. I hated myself for not being strong enough to say no.
That's when it happened. I could hear the paper being slid from underneath my door, even though it was far away. It was folded up in the form of a note on some construction paper. I unfolded it and read the words, and then I put it in one of my boxes for keepsakes. I never wanted to forget her.
My name is Erza.
I think I'm
😉 a Wizard.
There's a story behind everything that happens. If this goes well, I'll write more. - AD