It was slow at first. Little things. But everything was mostly fine. It started with the strange looks. She didn't really notice it at first, but as time went on, Amaya couldn't help but feel them on the back of her head. Sometimes she would catch them staring at her, but they would quickly look away and pretend as though they weren't doing anything suspicious. They being a couple of her classmates. Amaya didn't speak, and they found this odd. Why didn't she? Could they get her to say something?
And so they made it their twisted mission to get her to speak. To say something, anything, it didn't matter. Their methods of going about this were cruel and horrible. After the odd looks came little, minor slights towards her. They'd whisper intensely when they knew she was in earshot. They'd take her pencils when she wasn't looking. When Amaya ever looked in their direction, they'd give her mean or dirty looks. This lasted for much of the school year, into the next.
Their antics with her hadn't been stopped, and since Amaya was too anxious to do anything, she kept to herself, suffering in silence. The teasing had evolved, too. Now emboldened by them getting away with it, they took to verbal insults. They berated her, calling her stupid, ugly, and any other terrible thing they could think of. It would be in passing, in the halls, at lunch. They would cough and say it in between their over exaggerated hacking. Amaya would shrink back and frown, trying to block out the words. She had no friends to defend her, or comfort her. She'd tear up, but after so much abuse she learned to keep it inside. At night, in her bed, the walls would come down and she would bawl her eyes out into her pillow, wishing she would die.
Every new day was dreadful. She knew what would await her at school. More harassment. None of her teachers, nor the other classmates, ever noticed. Or perhaps, they simply didn't care. Amaya felt so alone. Eventually, she started actively avoiding everyone, opting to eat outside during lunch, or sitting in the far back of the classroom, just hoping to avoid her tormentors. Like homing missiles, they always managed to somehow find her. Yet, despite all their bullying, they could never get that weird little cat to talk. This, mixed with their continual getting away with teasing her, made them bolder still.
Next came the tripping. The shoving. The hitting. More than once Amaya found herself eating the floor, school books and papers strewn about. The bullies would laugh mercilessly and kick her things away from her as she tried to scramble and gather them. More than once she had to escape to the restroom to find a stall to cry in. It didn't help that one of the bullies was a girl and would follow her there, mocking her and laughing at her tears. Amaya prayed she would die. She couldn't handle it anymore.
Once, on a particularly bad day for one of her bullies, they took their anger out on her. They slammed her against the locker and held her down. "Why don't you talk, you stupid bitch? Say something!" But Amaya didn't respond. She squirmed and tried to wrench herself free, but the bigger cat had an iron grip on her. She hoped someone might do something to help her, but nobody did. They all turned a blind eye.
And one day, they really took things too far. After school, they cornered Amaya in a stairwell. They threw the usual insults and abuse at her. They kicked her and spat at her. Amaya shrank back, unable to get away. Everytime she did try to make a break for it, they would grab her and pull her back, throwing her to the ground. Then one of them pulled out a pocket knife. They swiped it at her, demanding she talk, but Amaya started crying. The two others held her down while the knife wielder got slowly closer, pretending to stab her. "Just say something, anything, and we'll stop. Or are you too much of an idiot?"
Amaya feared for her life. She closed her eyes, tears still falling, accepting that they were going to cut her up. The knife guy slid the dull side of the blade across her body in various places. "I wonder what you'll do when we cut you open. I wonder what you'll say?"
The girl went limp. This was it. And then, out of nowhere, came a new voice. It was soft, but firm, and it held a lot of power. "Leave her alone!"
They all looked up, and saw a korat with a blue scarf standing there. He was furious. The knife guy growled at him. "Go the fuck away. This doesn't concern you."
"I'm not going to let you hurt her." The korat said, narrowing his eyes and stepping forward to get the knife guy off Amaya.
The knife guy made a swipe at the korat, but quick as a flash he had pulled the scarf from around his neck and cracked it like a whip on the guys' hand. He dropped the knife in surprise. The three bullies stood up and Amaya scampered back against the wall. The korat took a fighting stance. He had years of martial arts on the weekends, and knew how to defend himself.
The knife guy, presumably the leader, made a swing at him, but the korat dodged and rebounded with a punch to the back of the head. He dodged another attack from another, and swept their legs out from under then, and then used his momentum to shove the third to the ground. They all tried another volley of attacks, but the korat dodged and countered each one of them. The others took a beating, unable to land a single hit on him. Eventually, they gave up, running away, swearing at him, vowing they'd show him up. The korat didn't take any credence to this, he knew he could beat them again. He put his scarf back around his neck and now turned his attention to the girl.
His face softened and he kneeled down to her. "Are you okay? Did they cut you?" He said, voice as gentle as a summer breeze. After years of abuse, Amaya tensed up and shied away, afraid of a new potential tormentor.
"Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you." The korat said. "My name's Mike. What's yours?"
Amaya didn't say anything. She just looked at him through blurry eyes, waiting for him to turn on her and call her something mean, or to pick up the knife and finish the job. But he didn't. "I'm friendly, I promise." Mike pulled the scarf from around his neck, and Amaya braced to be whipped by it, but the stinging pain of a lashing didn't come. Instead, Mike extended the scarf to her. All the while, he hadn't moved an inch, giving her space to leave if she wanted to. Amaya wiped her eyes to get a better look and spotted the offering. "Go on. You can hold it."
He felt like comfort. Amaya couldn't explain it. But now, she felt like she could trust him. She took the scarf in her hand. It was soft. "See?" Mike said. "Friend."
Amaya weighed her options. She could make a break for it before he turned this against her. Or, she could accept his friendship. She looked into his gentle green eyes and saw the truth in them. Scarf still in hand, she crawled forward and hugged him. Mike was a little surprised by it, but he embraced her as well. Amaya was so small and fragile. Mike felt as though he might crush her little body if he hugged her too hard. She was so soft, too, even softer than his scarf. Mike imagined that this is what hugging a cloud might be like. Amaya hugged him a little tighter, years of abuse and fear melting away, and now she cried again. Not tears of despair, but of joy. Someone saw her. Someone was kind and gentle to her.
And for the first time, she spoke. "Thank you."
It was the softest, sweetest voice Mike had ever heard. After a few moments, they broke apart. "Would you like me to walk you home?"
Amaya nodded and wiped the tears out her eyes. They stood up together, and walked home side by side. Amaya didn't say anything else, but Mike didn't mind. He was just happy to have helped. The smile on her face spoke a thousand words, and he knew they were all good. And from that day, Amaya had a new friend, someone to help her, to talk to her, and make her feel loved. Eventually, Amaya spoke once more, to tell Mike she loved him. And Mike wholeheartedly loved her back.