Damn it. I ca-
A crushing blow to the stomach. A small boy of 11 was now crouched down in the dark alley as a bigger middle schooler retracted his fat fists from Levi's stomach, covered in the blood that had dripped from Levi's hairline. He was coughing profusely now, spitting out the blood that penetrated through his tongue when he bit it as the bully rammed his head into the wall previous to the punch in the stomach. "What a little cunt you are. How tall are you? 2 feet tall? You didn't even have any money on you, what a worthless piece of shit. Your parents must hate you, filthy bastard." They had the worst vocabulary for middle schoolers. Levi included. Thwack right to Levi's head before taking the rest of his lunch money and running off. It was almost 9 o'clock, too late for any 11 year-old to be walking out by himself. The alley now reeked of week-old trash and Levi's blood, sweat, and tears, as he lied there, unable to get up for the next few minutes. What the hell did I do to deserve this? As if my life wasn't shitty enough.
Levi struggled as he attempted to lift his head off the ground to take a glance at his shattered watch. It read 9:13 PM; whether or not it was correct was beyond him. The kids had managed to grab a hold of his wrist and twist it around his back, kicking him where his watch was, letting the pieces of the glass fall to the ground, stained in blood. He squinted in pain and with great difficulty as he saw several shards of the watch glass embedded in his pale skin right below where his wrist met his fragile arm. Attempting to stabilize himself and sit up, he gripped the loose gravel that was spread about around him and let out a small hiss as he stumbled up against the dumpster. Filthy can of shitty smelling shit. He hated the idea of leaning against a grimy dumpster but considering the state of things, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as he was able to stand against it without falling over. Bent out of shape, he wearily limped back home – St. Rose's Orphanage, where he would find his best friend Mikasa sitting on the edge of the bunk bed, wrapped in her bright red scarf and swinging her legs anxiously as she waited for Levi to come back soon.
The streets that night were foggy and empty, the reflection of the dimly lit street lamps glowing around Levi as he struggled his way back to the orphanage. The sidewalks were now stained with a trail of dark red residue that had fallen from the tips of Levi's hair and his punctured wrist but as soon as his icy gaze found the porch light of the orphanage, he let out a sigh of relief knowing he would be home soon and could do with a long, overdue bubble bath.
"LEVI!" Mikasa hadn't made any room for hesitation as she pulled Levi in for a hug. "Mikasa, don't do that, dammit!" He was wincing at the pain from his best friend's hug as she scanned his broken stature with hawk eyes. "What the HELL happened? Why didn't you run away? Why do you always insist on fighting battles that you can't win?!" Mikasa was furious. She worried about Levi's wellbeing more than her own and this irritated him. "I don't need everyone looking after me all the time. And don't you dare say that height or build factors into the way I handle myself because all of that is absolute bullshit. Go to bed or something, and don't wait up. I can take care of this. But first, a bath."
The caretaker of the orphanage carefully glazed warm water over Levi's tender wounds - forceful enough to clean them but gentle enough so that Levi was put out of his misery for the time being. She had just finished the laundry and helped him slip into his little frog pajamas that now smelled of lavender. He really was a petite little boy, no taller than 4'4" and covered in bandages as he waddled into his bedroom. "I thought I told you to get some rest, Mikasa." Ever since Levi became victim to bullies on the streets, his persona quickly adapted to that of a lethargic adult; he began to sound apathetic and careless and showed little signs of emotion. The only times Mikasa had seen a slight shimmer of happiness in his eyes was when it was bath time, something a majority of the children had despised at the orphanage. As he climbed up the ladder and into his bed, he said in a soft whisper, "Mikasa. I'm sorry for all of the pain and worries I've caused you. When I grow up, things are going to change. I'll grow up to the big brother you can look up to. Just watch me." Mikasa slept in peace that night and Levi prayed for a better tomorrow, the same prayer he had been reciting ever since his parents passed away.
This was all too familiar for Levi. He had not been brought up conventionally and had begun to shape his personality and wellbeing into something equally unconventional. He's yet to find his rock, his stability. But everyday, he's always one step closer.
Levi's scars by 11 years of age: the tearing of his soul as he saw the deaths of his parents before his very eyes, a gash on the bottom of his foot from when he scoured the grave streets for food and shelter, open glass wounds from the watch his beloved grandfather left him, and stitch patterns underneath his layer of pitch black hair from when his head made contact to the wall that one foggy night.
(Reviews appreciated ^.^)
