I was an orphaned child, left behind by my parents at a shabby orphanage at the foot of a hill.

Or so I was told.

Growing up with such a competitive environment was not playing well with someone as timid and kind-hearted as I was.

Resources were limited, but the kids were a plenty. The house mother and the casual aide weren’t enough to help out with the kids’ holistic needs.

I was always getting picked on by bigger kids, only to be pitied or ignored by other boys and girls and scrutinized by our house mother for stirring up trouble.

Yeah, it was totally possible for a scrawny kid like me look for strife because I wanted to end up being pointed at, laughed at, or pushed around (literally into a huge puddle of mud).

I was trying to be sarcastic. It’s one of the skills I’ve developed over the years.

It can be pretty nifty as a defense mechanism or if you just want to piss someone off.

I digress.

I wasn’t always treated like that though. It all began that fateful (mostly hateful) day...

“Hey, the visitors earlier gave you some chocolates, didn’t they?” I heard someone ask.

It wasn’t directed towards me.

I was actually just sitting at the other side of the room, reading a book about a girl falling into a rabbit hole.

“Yes... but they said it’s for me. They said that it’s mine.” A soft voice spoke. Ah, I recognized that voice. It belonged to that redhead girl with squinty eyes and freckles generously sprinkled on her face.

I focused back on the book I borrowed from our mini-library.

Oh no! The queen wants her head! She better make a run for it—-

“Well it WAS yours. Now it’s ours. Hand it over.” A big fat boy with no hair on his head held a hand out to her. The kid beside him with spiky black hair snickered.

I think I have an idea as to where this will go. I want to continue reading this book, but I probably should go before things get too heated.

I don’t think I’ll be able to help even if I wanted to anyway. They’re so big and scary and I’ve seen what they’ve done to other children who opposed them.

That girl was really greatly-smitten by the redheaded couple who met with her. I doubt that she’d just willingly give it to the bullies.

And as expected, the girl said, “No! It’s their present for me. They have to go away for Christmas and can’t finish the paperwork so they gave it to me in advance... I can’t give it to you!”

The big guy whistled as he put his hands behind his head. “You don’t have to tell them you gave them away. Come on, give it to us.”

“Yeah!” The other kid started reaching for the chocolate on the girl’s hand.

The latter moved her hand away and walked backwards until her back was pressed to the wall.

“Even if you’re a girl, we’ll hit you if you don’t give us your yummy snack!” The bigger bully threatened her.

Yes, chocolate does this to kids. Especially those who already had a taste but were deprived of them in the house of orphans.

I was already halfway outside the room when I heard a dull heavy sound of a first making contact with another person.

I did my best to stop myself from looking back but I found that I failed. I saw the girl’s cheek reddened and her eyes were almost filled with tears.

We weren’t friends per se, but she was nice to talk to and was generally pleasant. I think.

The next second later, I found myself running towards their direction and sandwiching myself between the bullies and the girl.

“Stop bullying her!” I spread out my arms to separate her from them.

“Oy you bookworm, don’t get in our way!”

“No!” I shouted once more. “This is why the visitors who meet you always leave without coming back. You are always so pushy and you don’t know how to be good kids!”

Oh no, the bullies look even more annoyed now.

“What’d you say?!?!”

The girl whimpered as the first set of fists hit me in my face. I tried to shield myself with my thin arms but with each punch from them, my defenses grew weaker and soon I gave into their beating.

“You weak shit! You think you’re better than us, huh?!” The smaller bully said as he kicked my leg. Another punch hit me in the face and I felt my consciousness wavering as maniacal laughter filled my ears.

Half a day later, I woke up on the bed in the orphanage’s make-shift clinic. It used to be a part of the kitchen but since they couldn’t afford to have another room added to the house, they just made a separate room by adding a wooden divider.

I was isolated there for three straight days with an old lady doctor checking up on me once a day. And when I finally got out, I got scolded by the house mother and was punished by not being allowed to read books for a month.

From then on, I would get weird looks from the other children and the bullies would often talk smack at me.

I was on my way back to our bedroom when I bumped into the ginger girl. I was so happy to run into her because I missed chatting with her, she was such a smart kind kid.

“Oh hi, are you okay? They didn’t manage to get the chocolate last time, did they?”

The girl was quiet and she looked away.

“What, they were able to get it?”

“No, but it’s all your fault! All that noise called for adults’ attention and the house mother punished me for sneaking in the chocolate. In the end, she confiscated it...”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s your fault!” She repeated as she stomped away. “Don’t ever talk to me or even look at me!”

I felt my heart tighten in my chest and my hand dug into my face. Water seemed to fill my eyes.

It hurts.

Everything hurts. My face, my arms, my stomach, my legs, my heart... they all hurt.

I didn’t expect much from her when I helped her, really. But I understand that the chocolate was really important and that’s why I stepped in to help... plus, they have already begun hurting her at that point.

Is it really that bad to at least hope for a quick thank you though? What the heck did I get beat up for then?

I wish I never bothered turning back for her.

It was probably the best not to speak with or get close with anyone if I’ll get the shorter end of the stick.

Not soon after, the bullying started and it was getting worse every day.

I felt like I was the one falling into a rabbit hole as each hellish day passed.

Worms in my shoes. Dead cockroaches thrown inside the clothes I was wearing. Chairs and table vandalised with obscene words.

I usually just kept to myself and held back my tears.

Despite all of those bullying for three more years, I surprisingly never hated them.

The one that I started to hate was myself.

Even when I was finally adopted by a lovely couple and lived a happier life, it turns out that it was short-lived.

Things got even messier in high school.

Will it always be like this?