Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Yume Oboro ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter One
Fists flying, punching me. Legs swinging around, kicking me. Mouths opening wide, laughing at me.
I hated people. I really did. I would be confronted usually after school, after all the teachers had gone home, and kids were starting to head off. That's when they would come, just random people. I had no idea who they were, had never even seen them before, but they would surround me, usually right when I had walked out of a building, and then I'd be backed up into a corner with no hope of escape. That's when they'd pounce, slamming their fists into me, ramming their knees into my stomach, grabbing onto my hair to keep me in place while another gave me a fistful in the face.
"Look at you!" one mocked, nabbing my chin and forcing me to look up into his stupid, acne-covered face. "You're so pathetic. You can't even fight back. What, did they chop your nuts off or something, little girl?" Another punch to the face, ramming my head to the side.
I-I really didn't understand people. I just didn't. What in the world possessed a person to just hurt somebody? Did they think it was funny, watching someone writhe in pain while they just stood over them, standing taller and bigger, and laugh?
I knew why they did this, why I was their personal punching bag. It's because I was different. I mean, how many blonde Egyptians with purple eyes did you see walking around America everyday? Yeah, not many. It's because I was not one of them, I was not part of their world.
Racist? Yes. They were, with all the meaning of the word, racist, but...so was the rest of the world. The world was cruel, and black, and dark.
I was thrown to the floor, choking and coughing, trying to drown out their laughing and mocking, and they began kicking me in the stomach, head, any part of the body they could reach. I curled up into a fetal position, trying to protect my head and stomach. Why...why couldn't I just fight back? I've been into fights in the past, have won said fights if I might add, but for some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to get angry enough to stand on my own two feet and land some punches of my own.
I would...I felt like I would be just like them if I did that, and that was the furthest thing I wanted to be. I didn't want to be a bully, be someone who beat up somebody else just for the hell of it. I could call it defense all I wanted, but the truth was, I would enjoy it, just like they were enjoying kicking me, degrading me, treating me like dirt.
"Why don't you fight back, freak?" A kick to my mouth, and I tasted blood, the pain that throbbed telling me he'd probably chipped a tooth, or even knocked it out. I spat out, and sure enough, a little splotch of blood came out, along with a tiny little white piece of my tooth. Damn. "Fight back, you little girl!"
The words stung, the punches and kicks even more, but I didn't say a word, didn't make a move to get up off the ground, but then everything stopped. The pain lingered, it stung and ached and throbbed long after the boys had pulled their punches, long after they had pointed and laughed at the pathetic heap that was me lying on the ground, curled up against the side of the building, and long after they had grown bored and walked away, like nothing ever happened.
I watched them walk into the parking lot, laugh and carry on just like every other teenaged boy would, and finally climb into their vehicles and drive off, all the while I stayed glued to the ground, not moving, too afraid to move, too afraid of what would hurt if I tried.
Tears fell from my eyes and I reached up to cover my face, even though no one was there to see, and cried. God, I was so pathetic, lying down like an insect, letting those boys do this to me. I had all the power I needed to fight them back, but I just...I just couldn't. I didn't like fighting, I didn't like hitting people. God, I'm such a pussy. They were right, somebody probably did chop off my nuts and made me into a girl. I looked like one enough, anyway, what with my long hair and appearance. I happened to like my long hair, but I admit, I would look more manly with shorter hair. I had decided to grow it out when I hit high school, wanting a change, and I was picked on for it. Words could be ignored, they could be blocked out, but I guess when they figured out I was ignoring them, they turned physical, so that I would have to listen to them.
I looked through my fingers at the empty parking lot, and swallowed after looking around, in case someone saw me. I hated this, I hated it so much. Part of me wanted to smuggle a knife to school and catch those boys off guard, corner them and hurt them while they begged and pleaded for me not to and I wouldn't listen. I would cruelly ignore their pleas, begin slicing them open, laugh and torture them as much as possible before finally killing them. God, God, that would feel so good, to be on top for once, to be the bigger and better one. My other side won out, though, and I was horrified at my own thoughts. I often had them, of wanting to hurt and kill people, but I snapped myself out of it, disgusted with myself for thinking such awful things.
I was no different than others. Everyone thought of killing someone at some point, even though they didn't really mean it. It was the anger, rage made you think of some of the most scary things you wouldn't normally think. It's like rage was an entirely different person living inside you and when it broke though, you weren't yourself anymore, you were this other person.
I lifted myself off the sidewalk, grunting and moaning when my sides ached all over. I struggled to get into a sitting position and leaned against the wall when I succeeded, leaning my sore head back and gulping in air. Pathetic, I was so pathetic, and I was still crying! Dammit. I couldn't even feel them roll down my cheeks since they were numb and a little swollen from being hit over and over, but I could feel the liquid plop down and soak through my pants. Boys weren't supposed to cry, especially not after they'd been beaten up. That just proved the bully got to them, the bully was able to bring them down that low.
After resting for awhile, I chanced standing up and was surprised that I didn't stumble from the pain. It ached and stung horribly, but I was able to stand, I was able to lift myself off the ground and walk away, walk home and away from what happened. It was only a small victory, but I smiled at myself for it, pocketing my hands as I continued down the sidewalk and toward my and my sister's apartment. It wasn't that far away from the school, so I could walk there in about fifteen minutes.
My parents used to live in Egypt, hence why I said what I did earlier about the Egyptian thing, and had my sister there. A few years passed, and my dad was getting sick of Egyptian life, wanting to shoot for something different, for something totally new, and when my mom got pregnant with me, they moved here to America. Life was good for awhile, and even though my mom went through depression because of the cultural shock, my dad ate it up; he was always kind of strange about things like that. I went to school, studied, made good grades, lived life with how people deem as 'normal' and then when high school hit, things went to hell. Mom went first, and I don't know how she died. She just didn't wake up one morning and the doctors couldn't tell us why. Dad went second, dying in a car crash, and both my sister and I were devastated, having both of our parents just die like that. My sis was so sad, though. She took it upon herself to have me continue with school while she worked. She was old enough to live on her own anyway, so she figured now was as good a time as any to start supporting herself and me.
Poor Isis, you're such a good sister.
I rounded a corner, looking both ways before crossing the street and finally reached our apartment. The landlord waved to me as I walked in and I back, though, not as much enthusiasm as she had, and made my way up the elevator and to our floor.
I nearly peed in my pants when I opened our door to see Isis standing right there, arms crossed, foot tapping like a mother, and giving me a look that said she was less than pleased with me.
"Um..." I began, not knowing what to say, and looked down at my feet, a nervous habit I'd gotten from her.
"You're thirty minutes late, Malik."
Her eyes were like daggers, digging into my skull as I continued to stare at my shoes, trying to find interest in them. "I...I'm sorry, sis. I got held up after class."
I was given The Look. "And what held you up for an extra fifteen minutes that made you so late?"
"You know Mr. Walter, the History teacher, he was rambling on about things." I hated lying to my sister, after everything she'd already done for me, but it would've worried her to death if she knew I was being picked on and...bullied. I couldn't do that to do, I couldn't tell her my problems. They were for me to worry about, not her.
"Uh-huh. Did Mr. Walter give you those cuts on your face and chip your front tooth?"
I gasped, reached up to my mouth, my eyes staring hard at Isis and I mentally cursed myself for my stupidity. Dammit, dammit, so much for subtlety. "I...I'm sorry, Isis."
Her blue eyes were stone cold as she continued giving me The Look, never uncrossing her arms. She finally sighed and moved out of the doorway, letting me in, not saying a word. I crossed the threshold, gripping my backpack and waiting for her to say something. She just closed the door, her back facing me, and said, "Dinner will be ready in a little while. Why don't you go do your homework?"
I blinked, confused at this, but was all too happy to comply. As long as she didn't question me about this, that meant I didn't have to try and lie about it and everything would stay normal like it always was. I just didn't want her pity, or for her to look down on me. Isis was like my goddess on a golden pedestal, I loved her so much for what she did, what she's still doing, and I know I'm the most horrible little brother ever. I take advantage of her, but I don't want her worrying over me when I am fully capable of taking care of it.
Once I reached my room, I closed the door, tossing my backpack to some random corner, and headed straight to the mirror that hung over my dresser, taking note of all of the scratches, my swollen cheeks, and the little bit of blood left on my lip. Isis would have been a fool not to know what happened, but I was glad she didn't question me. She's so smart, she probably knew all along that this was happening, but chose not to say anything because she knows how I am. God, Isis, I really love you, you know. You're so good to me.
I frowned upon opening my mouth and viewing my teeth, finding one of my front teeth had indeed been chipped a little at the side. I ran my tongue over it, feeling the sharp edge of it and felt my hatred for those boys well up all over again. I looked so stupid now with a chipped tooth, and I'm sure Isis would tell me it made me look 'cute' just to make me feel better.
I hate people. I really do.
A little dinging noise rang from my laptop and I stopped ogling myself in the mirror long enough to glance at the blue screen of my computer to see that someone had instant messaged me. I slid down into my seat, finding the words, 'hey malik how r u today?' glued to my screen.
I smiled and place my fingers on the sleek keyboard, typing back, 'Fine, how are you?'
'oh you know me i guess i'm fine. u out for the weekend now?'
'Yeah, why?'
'remember what we talked about?'
'You mean...that?'
'yeah. you're comfortable with it right?'
'Yeah, totally. It's just that my sister is, well, you know how she is.'
'yeah you only talk about her all the time. she must really love you.'
'She does. Anyway, what's up?'
The conversation droned on like that for awhile. I was talking to perhaps my only friend I've ever made since making it to high school. It's like all the friends from middle school and elementary school just up and disappeared one day and left me behind. I tried looking for familiar faces my first day of high school, but all those faces were hard stares and mean glares. Isis got me a laptop for my birthday and taught me how to be internet savvy, also telling me to be careful with who I talked to and whatnot.
After awhile of just floating around, I began to get more involved in chat rooms and things like that. Of course I heeded Isis's warning. I only talked about random stuff, I didn't give any information about myself, but one person began messaging me and I just got obsessed with her. She said her name was Alice and she actually lived not far from where I did. I couldn't believe it at first, at how weird it was she lived around where I did, but we didn't go to the same school or anything. I felt like such a pansy talking to her, though. I didn't have any friends in high school, I ate lunch by myself, and only really talked to people when we had to partner up for something, so Alice was a breath of fresh air. She was so nice to me, just talking to me when I needed someone and being there for me always. We'd been talking for a few months now, and...we've shared so much. I was wary of her at first, at this sudden and random friendship she wanted to share, but she'd proven herself truthful and even sent me a picture of herself through email. Blonde hair, brown eyes, pale skin, the picture of innocence, and she was pretty cute, too.
They say you shouldn't talk to strangers, especially ones on the internet, because you honestly don't know who's on the other end of that computer, sitting there, watching you, stalking you, but Alice was genuine, I knew. I was careful, though, about her, I didn't trust her from the start. She had to gain my trust, and she had. The most we did was just ramble on about anime or something. It's not like we were talking about personal problems and things like that.
Besides, she was the only friend I had, the only one I could talk to, tell things to that I couldn't tell Isis, like me being bullied because Alice always gave good advice about it, and she never degraded me when I said I hated fighting people, even if it was to defend myself. Oh Alice, you're so good to me, just like Isis. I feel like I have two of the best girls in the world, my sis and my friend. I wish I could be with you, too, I really, really want to meet you, hang out with you, get to know you a little more, just not be all by myself anymore. I hate being alone.
Isis called me for dinner and I yawned, having talked to Alice for quite awhile about nothing in particular. I read her last message and typed back that I had to go. I expected her to say 'okay' or something, but her next message shocked me.
'hey malik, did you really mean it?'
'...Mean what?'
'about us...do you really love me?'
I smiled, feeling so, so happy. She didn't even have to ask that. 'Of course, Alice, I love you so much. You're the first friend I made since coming to high school, of course I love you to death for that.'
A minute or so passed and I wondered if she had gone offline, but then a new message popped up.
'let's finally meet face-to-face this weekend.'