I was just an ordinary boy. Nothing special. In school, I barely scraped by with mediocre grades, and in sports, I was always last. I didn't stand out in any way. On the contrary, I seemed invisible to others, except for the moments when I became the target of their mockery. My classmates saw me as a bad joke, and I had learned to endure it in silence.
I had only one year left until I finished high school. One year. An eternity, yet my only hope. After that, I would be rid of them forever. I would never see them again. I just had to hold on.
During a break, I went outside for some fresh air, thinking it would help me escape the stress. But it wasn't true. I stood there, my gaze lost, when I heard their voices, sharp as a knife.
"Look at the loser! How pathetic," sneered Kenji, the leader of the group that harassed me.
Kenji Tanaka was the kind of boy who attracted all eyes: tall, athletic, with a charismatic smile that hid a cold cruelty. He was the star of the basketball team and the idol of many classmates, but for me, he was a nightmare. He loved being the center of attention, and I was the perfect victim to demonstrate his "superiority."
"How are you doing, our little toy?" Haruto continued, grinning complicitly.
Haruto Nakamura, Kenji's right-hand man, was shorter but just as malicious. He had a cunning look and a talent for finding the most humiliating jokes. He followed Kenji like a shadow, always eager to earn his approval.
I didn't respond. My body trembled with fear, as it always did. I was trapped by my own weakness.
"I have an idea! How about we strip him and take a picture? Let's put it online, what do you say?" Aiko proposed, her voice full of malicious excitement.
Aiko Sato was new to the class, having recently transferred to the high school. She had long, black hair and an attitude that helped her quickly integrate into Kenji's group. I didn't know why she had transferred, but she seemed to relish my humiliation, as if she wanted to prove her place among the "popular" ones. Her sharp laughter made me feel even smaller.
"Brilliant!" Daichi laughed, already pulling out his phone.
Daichi Kimura was the most brutal among them. He didn't speak much, but his actions said it all. He had intimidating physical strength and a blank stare, devoid of remorse. He was the type to hit first and ask questions later.
I was surrounded. The same classmates who had been tormenting me since middle school. I remember how once, they filled my backpack with rotten food, destroying all my notebooks. Another time, they put glue on my chair. The list of humiliations was long, and high school had brought no change.
"Stop... please," I murmured, my voice trembling, barely audible.
"What did you say, loser? Speak louder, I can't hear you!" Kenji yelled, approaching menacingly.
"I said stop!" I repeated, louder, but the fear in my voice was evident.
"Look, our toy has gained courage! Haven't he, Aiko?" Kenji said, turning to her.
"Yes, it seems he's learned to talk!" Aiko laughed, her eyes glinting with malice.
They started pulling at my clothes. I tried to resist, but what could I do? There were four of them, plus Aiko. I was helpless. As they undressed me, Daichi raised his phone.
"Take a picture of him!" Haruto shouted.
Shame overwhelmed me, a wave of humiliation mixed with fear and powerlessness. Aiko's presence, with her sharp laughter, made everything even more unbearable. I felt like an animal caught in a trap, exposed and ridiculed.
Later, I walked home, head down, burdened by the weight of the day. But home wasn't any better. It never had been.
On the way, I crossed a high bridge. I stopped and approached the edge. For a moment, I thought: What if I put an end to all this? What if I ended everything now? The water below seemed cold, calm, like a promise of peace. But, as usual, I didn't even have the courage for that.
I arrived home. I opened the door and was met by the usual chaos: mess, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. I called out, more out of habit:
"I'm home!"
From the living room, my mother's voice was heard, cold and indifferent:
"Uh-huh. Now go clean up, my friends are coming over."
My mother, Elena, was always like that. With dyed blonde hair, but visible dark roots, and a cigarette always between her fingers, she seemed to live in another world, one where I barely existed. She never spoke to me except to give orders. I wanted to protest, to tell her it wasn't fair, why I always had to do everything. But I didn't have the courage.
I left my backpack in my room, changed out of my uniform, and began to clean. Mom sat in the living room, laughing at the television, probably at some cheap show. From time to time, her voice echoed:
"Haven't you finished yet? Hurry up, my friends will be here in half an hour!"
In my mind, I thought: If we did it together, we'd finish much faster. But why was it always just me? Why did the universe seem to hate me? Was this my destiny?
I finished cleaning. Five minutes later, my mother's friends arrived. My mother gave me a harsh look, her eyes tired and devoid of warmth:
"Go to your room and don't make a sound."
I had no choice. I did as she said.
In my room, I had a few books, precious few. They were my only refuge. I would read, and for a moment, I felt free. In the pages of the books, I was in another world, one without fear or humiliation. The book I was reading spoke of a different world, where everyone was happy and had everything they desired. I would have given anything to be there, even for a day. Sometimes, I would close my eyes and imagine that a strange power, like magic, could take me there, far away from everything.
Time passed. My mother's friends left, and the clock showed 7:00 PM. Dad, Victor, would be coming home soon, around 7:30 PM. When he walked through the door, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes accompanied him, as always. He was a massive man, with a tired face and bloodshot eyes. The smell was no longer unbearable for me; I had gotten used to it.
As usual, when Dad came home drunk, the argument with Mom would start. About what? I don't know exactly, because I would immediately retreat to my room. Sometimes, I would hear them saying why they brought me into the world, why they didn't abandon me somewhere. Their words hit me like arrows, but I had learned to ignore them.
This was every day of my life, as long as I could remember, up to my 17 years. An endless story of humiliation, fear, and helplessness. But somewhere, deep in my soul, a small voice whispered that perhaps, one day, everything would change. Perhaps another world awaited me.