Prompt: Your characters being bullied 0 how do they handle it and what happens afterwards?
Akito as a child is small, dark, and as pale as a dove in snow. Thin-boned and anaemic, he trails, concern etched in every furrow of his ashen brow, after anyone in the playground who is willing to talk to such an undesirable as him.
He's scared of the dark, but also of the light. It's a conundrum (he learnt that word yesterday) of a high degree. What he fears during the day does not come at night, and what he fears during the night does not come at day.
Shadows are the worst, really, patches of nights that slither in patterns that only he can see. Akito avoids these shadows like the other kiddies avoid him.
He's beginning to think maybe he's better than them and that's why they avoid him; he hasn't begun to cling to this belief like a lifeline yet.
Akito brushes his raven hair out of narrow eyes, clutching the note with skeletal fingers to his chest. Lain wrote it. At ten, the idea of popularity is very firmly implanted in his mind, which is only just beginning to fracture at the edges, like a cage ripped by Dobermanns.
He knows that Lain is popular, and he is not, and so she holds a magic he can only hope to be brushed by, if he's lucky. He knows that boys who are bulky and brawny and who have rich mommies and daddies are also popular, and he knows that girls with shiny hair and smiles and lives are popular too.
He knows a lot of things, Akito, and this is one of the reasons nobody likes him.
He's learned to shut up about most things in his life, because he gets funny looks and "funny" comments and then people think it's funny to spit at him and kick him and take his stuff. He doesn't like it when people do that to him.
It used to make him sad, but Shigure cheered him up. Once when he was visiting (Akito admires Shigure, when he's serious, which isn't very often) he left an American comic behind about a maniac who killed people and had voices in his head and complained a whole lot.
Akito sometimes has voices in his head too, and he admired the character in these books. He thought that everyone should read it, because this character was a lot like him, but then Shigure took them off him and made him promise not to tell.
Akito decided from Shigure's look that he shouldn't have read a book about rabbits nailed to the wall and screaming people being tortured and horrific things done with salad tongs, so he decided not to tell him that the skinny anti-hero of these comics is his new role-model.
Also, he learned that skinny people like him get called "faggot" a lot, but he's not sure what that really means, even though he's heard it enough. Maybe he should ask, but he doesn't really want to.
Akito leans against the wall. He's run all the way to the park to be outside the gazebo at three o' clock, just like the note said, and he's regretting it already. His heart thumps weakly in his chest, like a broken bird's fluttering, and he knows that he'd better rest or he'll collapse like that time in Gym class with the rope and the whistle and the gym teacher yelling.
Akito stands up straight as a figure approaches in the distance. He thinks it's Lain (maybe she wants to tell him how to be popular) but, as more bulky figures appear, the smile rapidly vanishes from his gaunt, drawn face.
It's them.
Ping and Yuki.
Them.
At 5'1 and 4'11 respectively, they're pretty damn large for their age. Much larger than Akito's 4'4 stature. And they're heading for him.
Akito crumples the note, looks worried, and realises that today is evidently not his day and Lain is not coming to say howdy-doo to him. He also realises that his kidneys are probably going to say hello to the wonderful realm of pain with which they are often acquainted (vocabulary word last Tuesday. He got ten out of ten on that test, which that time was bad for his arms and shoulders).
Akito's face is never hit. He bruises too easily; the dark discolorations creep like crawling ink-insects across the blank canvas of his skin in little time. He's easy prey because of this tenderacy to bruise. Bullies, he's learnt, like to see their masterpiece in front of them. New and beautiful each time.
Akito narrows his eyes. Ping is the larger of the two, but Yuki the smarter and more malicious. Yuki probably set this up. Yuki has some kind of grudge against him. Yuki despises him and the ground on which he stands. Yuki is going to damn well kill him if he doesn't move, and quickly.
"You didn't think Lain was actually going to talk to you, did you?" Yuki addresses him caustically.
"Poor sad Akito."
"Poor sad Akito indeed," Yuki agrees with Ping.
Akito merely backs up against the gazebo and checks out the nearest exit points.
"Hey, dummy, weren't you listening to me?" Yuki demands after there is no response from the petrified boy. He grabs a handful of hair and forces Akito into the dirt. The gravel cuts Akito's palms easily, slicing through the papery skin smoothly.
Akito doesn't like blood, and especially not his own.
"You leave me alone," he demands, trying to get to his feet.
Ping merely stamps a boot onto the small of his back, forcing Akito's nose into the rough dirt. He chokes as the boot comes down again. And again.
And promptly coughs up blood.
Yuki, who is engaged in kicking the underside of his ribcage, does not notice this until Akito coughs again and spits a small river of foam-mixed blood into the musty dirt. Blood pools and drips in a tantalisingly slow spool as he raises himself on shaky, stick-thin arms. Ping looks panicked. He and Yuki exchange a few words, panicked gestures, and then evidently decide to make a run for it.
Akito doesn't hear them; all he hears is blood pounding in his ears and pouring out his mouth. He can't hold himself up any longer and tumbles to the ground, landing in a potent cocktail of mud and blood.
Before Akito fully blacks out, he think how much he hates Yuki, any Yuki, all Yukis.
How traumatising it is to force someone to the ground by their hair.
How scary your own blood is when it's unstoppable.
And how one day he's going to kill them all for forcing all of this (being small and already predestined for early death and a miserable life and hate and hate and hate) on him.
All of them.
No one will escape, and especially no Yukis.
A Short Authors' Note: This was written for a competition on Gaia; the prize was to roleplay Akito of course. I won, but sadly was so broke and apathetic I haven't been back since. Considering that I can't remember the girls' name, and never paid her, I have no doubt I'm public enemy number one. This was also written in about half-an-hour, but I figured I may as well put this up.
Also, the comic book is "Johnny the Homicidal Maniac" - the skinny, murderous character is of course Johnny - and both are copyright Jhonen Vasquez. It's a good read, if you don't take it too seriously as some are wont to do.