"What will you do if you find some guy beating someone brutally?"
"Do you help him?"
"Or do you call for cops?"
"Or do you look for local support?"
"NO."
"YOU WILL DO NOTHING."
"Then what will you do?"
"Laugh?"
"Walk away?"
"Or, like a disgusting human, take out your phone and record the suffering of someone else?"
---
A boy, around the age of 17, walked down the road with a school bag slung over his back.
His face bore numerous bruises, marring his above-average looks and reflecting the torment he had endured.
He clenched his jaw as memories of his parents filled his mind.
'My mother told me to stop fighting. She knows the bullies are beating me, but she scolds me instead because her husband works in the company whose boss is my bully's father.'
'And that piece of shit I call a father? He blatantly ignores me now.'
'I know some spineless idiots will say he doesn't stand up for me because he could lose his job. Disgusting.'
'If you value your company more than your child, if you'd rather keep your office post than support the kid you brought into this world, then it's better you don't have children at all.'
"They think that because they fucked and had a kid, they have full control over me. They didn't want a child—they wanted a FUCKING robot to fulfill the dreams they failed to achieve."
'Fucking pieces of trash.'
As he dwelled on these thoughts, he reached his school.
His hollow eyes fixed on the building others called school—a place he called HELL.
Entering his classroom, he sat at the first bench, his assigned seat.
Not every nerd or bully victim sits at the back near the window, contrary to the stereotype.
The teacher hadn't arrived yet, and the classroom was abuzz.
Some top-tier students were solving questions, while others gathered in groups, laughing and joking.
'I hate it.'
His gaze fell on a group of three boys.
Their eyes met his, guilt and sadness evident in their expressions.
'Fucking dickheads.'
'I always helped them, supported them, called them my friends. But when it was their turn, they turned their backs on me.'
The classroom door burst open, and three boys walked in.
The leader had blonde hair, piercing eyes, and a handsome face.
'Jason.'
Some girls looked at him with lovestruck expressions, despite knowing his notorious behavior.
Jason's eyes landed on Rio, and a wide, disgusting smile spread across his face.
"RIO, my lovely dog."
He approached Rio, locking eyes with him, the smile never wavering.
"Come to the rooftop, little dog."
Rio nodded.
Jason's smile widened as he turned and left the classroom. Rio grabbed his nearly empty bag and followed him.
On the rooftop, Jason turned to Rio and extended his hand.
Rio opened his bag, pulling out two bundles of money he had stolen.
Jason smirked, grabbing the cash and counting it to ensure the amount was correct.
Jason didn't need the money; he just enjoyed watching Rio suffer.
As Jason focused on the bills, Rio slipped his hand into his pocket.
Suddenly, Rio drew out a pen and lunged.
'Today, I'll kill the DEMON in this HELL.'
Jason barely had time to react as the pen plunged into his neck with a sickening squelch.
Before Jason could recover, Rio stabbed him again in the same spot.
Jason collapsed, clutching his neck, blood gushing out as he struggled to breathe.
He wasn't dead yet but wouldn't last long.
Rio turned to the two stunned bullies.
Before they could process what had happened, Rio attacked the second boy with the bloodied pen.
The boy raised his hand to block, but the pen pierced through his palm.
He screamed in agony, giving Rio an opening to punch him square in the face.
Rio's strength was impressive—Jason was the only one stronger. Now, without Jason, the other two were nothing.
The second bully fell, and Rio used the momentum to stab his neck, ensuring he wouldn't get up again.
Finally, Rio turned to the third boy, who was cowering on the ground, shaking with fear.
Rio threw the pen aside and smiled manically.
This was the weakest bully—the one who had started Rio's torment by attempting to bully others.
Rio had intervened like a hero, saving those spineless cowards he once called friends, but Jason had taken notice of him.
Rio approached as the boy, Taro, stammered, "Do...don't st...stay there. J...Jason's father will ruin you...your dad will lose his company—"
Rio punched him hard in the face.
"And you think I care?"
He tilted his head, genuinely baffled by Taro's pathetic attempt to gain the upper hand.
Rio punched him again.
"You always loved punching me in the face."
"You said it was satisfying."
Punch.
"You know, It really is."
Rio rained blows on Taro, ignoring his whimpers for mercy.
His maniacal laughter echoed across the rooftop.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"TARO, IT'S VERY SATISFYING! HAHAHA!"
Rio punched him until Taro lay still.
Checking his pulse, Rio confirmed he was dead.
Next, he checked the second bully.
Dead.
Finally, he approached Jason.
"Heh, aren't you a cockroach?"
Rio stepped on Jason's neck and twisted until he was sure he was dead.
He walked to the rooftop's edge, gazing down.
Without hesitation, he jumped.
As he plummeted, a single thought filled his mind:
"Ahh, freedom from this Hell."
Thump.