My bully*

...WARNING...

...I, author S1r2enix edit all of my stories by myself, so you may come across errors and grammar mistakes. Please keep in mind, that I am only human, and we all make mistakes from time to time....

...All my characters in each of my stories come from my imagination, except those who actually exist but have nothing to do with anything I write....

...COPYRIGHT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED....

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MY second half of the academic year was drawing to a close, however not in the manner I would have desired. Oliver, a guy in my class was the most aggravating person on the planet. For some reason, he had been harassing me all year, and the prior year as well. I had attempted to ignore Oliver and his friends, but I've had enough of it.

Today was relatively quiet. I had approximately five classes, of which three were in which I received the results of the tests that the entire class had received weeks prior. After lunch, I attended literature and French. After the bell rang, I entered Biology and waited for our final lesson of the day. A few minutes later, our Student Body President, Hillary, entered the classroom.

"Students, please be aware that Mr. Henry is unable to attend class today." in the back of the classroom (who has a habit of attempting to monopolize the attention of Mr. Henry at all times) inquired, "Why can't Mr. Henry attend today? We were planning to dissect a frog." The student's voice trailed off, and she stretched out her lips in a dramatic fashion. Hillary sighed before replying.

"Not that it's your concern, but Mr. Henry's wife was admitted to the hospital, for reasons that I can't reveal to you. However, I am able to inform you that you are free to leave the school premises. " This has caused a great deal of joy amongst the students. However, some, such as myself, were concerned for the wellbeing of Mr. Henry's wife and expressed their hope that he will soon return to the school.

Upon Hillary's departure from the classroom, the atmosphere became chaotic. Students began to hurl paper balls and aircraft into the air, draw on the board with chalk pens, play loud music, or wear headphones, forming into their respective clubs with only a handful of members present. I do not wish to imagine the behaviour of the promiscuous and coupled up students. The majority of them were members of the cheerleading and football teams.

I, on the other hand, opened my sketchbook and began sketching a girl. I was in no hurry to return home and did not mind waiting for the ringing of the bell. As I began sketching the eyes (which I find to be a difficult part of the body to draw) Oliver and his friends approached me. How I knew, when I was concentrating on sketching, was that I could smell his cologne all around me. It was the type of cologne that would make a person recoil and wonder what the buyer was thinking when purchasing it.

I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes, and listened to the mutterings of his friends. I do not mind having people observe my sketches, or even myself for that matter. I know I am beautiful. Oliver, on the other hand, was a class tyrant. He was an unpleasant person, and nothing he did was good.  And I knew this time would not be any different.

One of his companions spoke to him in a whisper, and he smiled. He then grabbed my pencil case, emptying it onto my desk. Some of which fell under my chair, others rolled away onto the floor. Several of the pencil points broke, leaving dots on the sketch. My sketch, which I had been working on for an extended period of time, was strewn with dots and marks from broken pencil points. The sight of him laughing with his companions while my sketch was in tatters was the final straw for me.

" Oliver, you are so irritating! Why do you keep bothering and bullying others, especially me? What have I ever done to you? Only people with a troubled family life or personal issues bother and bully those who are better off than them! If that is the case, I highly recommend seeing a therapist. They will be more than happy to assist you. And If you manage to leave the therapist's office, take your little club somewhere else! " Oliver and his friends glanced at me, their smiles gone now, some in shock and Oliver without emotion. I gathered my belongings and exited the classroom. The bell rang and I started to walk home.

I had my headphones on me at the time, so I plugged them into my phone and turned it on. I was listening to one of my favourite artists, humming along to the tune. I shut my eyes for a moment, when suddenly my headphones were removed from my ears. I rolled my eyes as the scent of cologne I was familiar with filled my nose. I turned to him, ready to tell him off, when I noticed a red and purplish stain on his arm. Wait, that can't be a stain, it's a bruise. It looked like it was done between one or two days ago. I looked into his eyes, and I saw a black haze of sadness and anger. I reached out to touch his injured arm, and Oliver pushed me hard against the wall.

He looked me straight in the eye with a smirk on his face, and I let out a sigh of exasperation. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me too tightly. He laughed aloud, and said, “You don’t look so tough any more, Alexandra, do you? Why are you suddenly trembling? You said I was a man with a troubled, right? Let me show you what a man with a troubled family would do.” My eyes widened, and he began to lean towards me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear what was coming next. A few seconds passed, and I heard him laughing hysterically.

He was able to restrain himself from laughing until he could no longer contain himself. He then remarked, "Did you honestly expect me to kiss someone with a face like yours? You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen, and there is not a shred of attractiveness in you!" He released me, laughing loudly as he walked away.

I was furious. In fact, I was so angry that I wanted to run and strike him for his action. I wanted vengeance so badly. However, as my thoughts shifted to thoughts of vengeance, the image of Oliver's injured arm suddenly returned to my mind.

THE NEXT DAY

I awoke, completed my morning routine, and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I knew that my younger sister would be preparing pancakes for breakfast, as she is fond of doing so on Thursdays. I finished my breakfast, thanked my younger sister for the breakfast, and kissed my youngest sister on the cheek before heading off to school. The day passed in a strange silence. I kept glancing around, expecting my bully to reappear with his gang, but nothing happened. Nearly the entire day passed, and I noticed that I did not see Oliver. I did not hear his loud voice, and I did not smell his foul cologne.

The bell rang, and I entered the P.E. class, which seemed to be Oliver's favourite. I observed three of his friends, 'Connor', 'William' and 'Marcos', who are the ones he spends most time with. I hid in a corner and listened to their conversation. Unfortunately, I was unable to make out the details, but I was able to infer that Oliver's father, a wealthy businessman, had personally informed William that Oliver had a cold and would not be attending school. Upon hearing this, I felt a surge of joy. No longer would Oliver be a burden to me.

For some reason, I was concerned as I recalled Oliver's bruised hand from the previous day. Why should I be concerned? Nothing positive has ever been said about Oliver's background, except for the Knight family surname, which has some bearing on Oliver's own family name. However, no one is aware of  everything that circulates this fact. Oliver's father is a pillar of our nation, and he has never been accused of being a generous and kind man. As I continued to investigate, I heard some rumours that Oliver's father had picked him up from school the previous day, and a group of individuals were gossiping about the Principal having a conversation with Oliver's father in his office.

A few weeks passed without any sightings of Oliver, who had not attended school, and it appeared that he had lost contact with his friends. It seemed as if none of them had contacted him since, suggesting that Oliver had been the driving force behind their attempts to bully others. They hadn't bothered anyone since the day Oliver was picked up by his father. On the day in question, I received a call from the principals' office, in which the secretary informed me that I had been selected by the principal to carry out all the assignments assigned to Oliver, who had been absent due to illness. I was unfamiliar with the address of Oliver's residence, so I consulted his friends. Marcos provided me with the address, and I visited Oliver's residence after school.

I gaped at the expansive mansion before me. It was no ordinary mansion; it had been constructed centuries before, and had been inherited by Oliver's family.  How is it possible that I am so knowledgeable about the history of our country? I have always been interested in the history of our nation, and I am fond of any kind of historical narrative. When I was ten years old, I set out on a mission to learn all I could about the history of my country and its environs (which is highly applicable in history classes).

I went to the door and rang the bell. A woman opened the door and I looked at her, but I did not recognize her. She spoke to me in a thick Canadian accent, asking me who I was, what I wanted, and why I was here. I told her that I was Oliver's classmate and that I had been sent by the principal to be Oliver's new project partner. She looked down at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes. She said, "Fine. And don't be loud. I can't stand loud noises." I silently laughed as the thought of her being spoiled from birth crossed my mind.

The woman instructed me to ascend the stairs and proceed down the hallway until I arrived at a black door leading to Oliver's room. As I ascended the stairs, the woman began to complain that Oliver should be assigned to military school for his indisciplined behaviour. Upon reaching the door, which was black, just as the woman had indicated, I knocked on the door.

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