Chapter 2: How I became a Bully

This is where my life changed. I woke up one day and said fuck this shit. I am not going to be anybody’s punching bag any more. I am going after these fuckers one at a time and showing them who is boss. I figured if I couldn’t outsmart a village of dumb ass hicks I deserved what I got.

The good news was that I was used to fighting 10-20 people at a time so the first time I came across 3 they didn’t have a chance. They figured they could beat me since it was 3 on 1 so they chased after me. Big mistake on their part. As soon as we got far enough away from school I stopped running, faced them and let them surround me. I figured the easiest way to do this so they did’t wear me down was to first take out Melvin, the least capable of the lot. One punch and he was down. That left Cam who was bigger than me and had a rep for kicking the shit out of multiple adults at the same time, and Seth who was roughly my physical stature. Thankfully they were both well below my intellect. It was easy to predict their moves. I would knock one down while the other got up so I only had to deal with one at a time. Eventually they tired out.

Unfortunately that just made things worse. My beatings escalated. I had to rethink my plan. In the mean time I would look for opportunities to get some of them alone so I could take them out one on one. I won some and lost some. The ones I lost it was mostly because I didn’t have enough time to wear them down before their help arrived.

I realized I had to put real fear into them. I had to make them think I would kill them without a seconds thought. There was no way they could always be in a crowd so they would have no choice but to leave me alone or risk death.

When most of the village is kicking the shit out of you every day it is easy to tell which people are doing it because they are sheep following the crowd and which are the truly evil bastards that deserve to die. The sheep pull their punches. The evil bastards hit harder and have a look in their eyes. The look is a kind of blood lusted joyous excitement. If there ever was a kid that deserved to die it was Liam. The joy he took out of beating me was intense. It was obvious this kid tortured animals in his spare time.

With my target chosen I got him away from everybody but close enough that somebody would easily find us. I then started playing basketball with his head on the pavement. You see a cut from the head tends to bleed black blood. Blood that is extremely dark and when you let it spread around it looks like there is a lot more of it than there really is. A small amount of it will paint a large patch red. It also has the benefit of blinding the victim as the blood drips into his eyes. By the time help arrived it looked like he was about to die. In reality he lost only about a pint of blood and had a moderate concussion. The type of headache and nausea that accompanies the concussion coupled with the vomiting and fatigue would make a dumb ass kid think he was close to death.

It worked. They stoped physically beating me but tried continuing with head games. Thankfully a moron doesn’t have much of a chance winning a head game with a genius that is well versed in them.

Next came jr high. Things were much better. The popular kids from my village were mostly considered losers in high school. Few if any were popular except the girls that spread there legs. I was not popular but I was left alone. By now I had a taste for blood and the power that violence lends. It turned me into a bully. Violence was all I kew when it came to social interactions. I knew what it tasted like to be the victim. It was time to taste the sweeter side of violence. I was selective in my bullying though. There was one kid in school that I stole lunch money from but he was one of the biggest kids and the only non-bully I seriously picked on. Sure I would push around the unpopular kids but that was mostly for show.

Even as a bully I had a heart. I would goto the kids that got picked on the most and push them around a bit. Nothing as bad as they were used to. Then when a bully would pick on them I would kick the living shit out of the bully. As the bully lay in a pool of his blood I would spit on him and say something like. “If you ever so much as look at James again I will hit you so hard you will need to wipe your ass in order to blow your nose. He is my punching bag not yours.” The losers never once complained about me picking on them. They understood the safety I provided and didn’t want to mess that up. We had almost a love hate relationship. In truth the only reason I picked on them at all was I needed a bad rep to keep certain people scared.