The leader—a boy with expensive sneakers and cheap cruelty—blinked. “What?”
“Ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite.” ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite!
“Because someone did it for me once,” I lied. No one had. But someone should have. And now, someone would. The leader—a boy with expensive sneakers and cheap
The phrase echoed in my skull: my body, my body, my body. Not as a prayer. As a promise. ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite!
That night, I traced the bruise forming on my shoulder blade. Purple and green, ugly and tender. A map of someone else’s anger. But also—a shield. Not for me. For the kid who went home unbroken.
So aim it here. I’ve got the scars to prove I’ll survive. And the silence of one saved kid is worth a thousand bruises.