"God, that's no fun playing with it when it's unconscious."
Kazuha took his nearly finished cigarette and pressed it to Scaramouche's ankle.
"Hugh!"
Waking up in pain, Scara grabbed his wrist.
"İt hurts..."
"So, you're awake."
Kazuha motioned for his friend to come.
"Hey Varka, can you go get my bag? I have a good idea."
"So you came up with something creative again. Alright, im going."
Varka came out laughing. Scaramouche thought about what could happen to him, anything was possible. he started shaking and crying.
"Please... Please let me go... Let me go to class..."
"Everyone knows how much you failed, what's the point?" Scaramouche couldn't say anything. Kazuha, on the other hand, stared at him for a long time.
"God, I want to tear you apart."
"Hey, I brought your bag."
"Good."
Kazuha filled a bucket with cold water from the supply room.
"Give me the bag."
"Here it is."
Kazuha rummaged through the bag a bit, then pulled out a bag filled with a white powder.
"What is this, Scara? You know?"
"N-No!..."
"Unfortunately, we didn't bring you any drugs, it's not worth it for you. This is starch."
Scaramouche was still holding his wrist, which was still burning from the cigarette. Scara tried to crawl to the door as he poured the starch into the water and stirred it. Kazuha stepped in front of him and kicked him in the stomach.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He pulled his hair and made him look at his face.
"Where do you think you're going without my permission? You pissed me off."
He pulled him by his hair and tucked him into a cabinet.
"Ka-Ka-Kazuha I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again! Please... Let... Let me go"
"Hah, you go now." Kazuha took Scara's head and shoved it into the toilet and pressed it down with his foot. He tried to shout, he was underwater. He couldn't breathe. After a while, he fainted again.
"Ohk! Ghk!"<
He coughed and woke up. He looked around, no one was there.
"Thank God ..."
Scaramouche looked at the mirror, his clothes and hair are all white and wet, covered with cold, starchy water.
he tried to wash his hair.
"As much as…"
He stood up, shaking. He went to class.
"Hey, Scara, they dumped on you? What are you doing?"
He looked shyly at his classmates with kinky smiles on their faces.
"Well... Kazuha and his friends do it..."
"So it was group sex? Ahahah!"
"Shut up..."
No one heard Scara's whisper.
"That's it for today, good evening guys."
Scara took her bag and went to the closet to change his shoes. In the corner, Kazuha and his crew were watching him.
"What are you looking at?!"
He turned his head and opened the locker, reaching for the shoes.
"Hgh-"
In the corner, Kazuha and friends were starting to laugh.
"I got it on video."
"Upload it to the web!"
"No, you idiot. We're going to do more fun stuff."
Scaramouche looked at his bleeding hand, then at the thumbtacks and razors inside his shoes. After he took off his school shoes and walked to the outside of the school with his socks, he spilled the razors on the floor. He felt a hand ruffling his hair behind him.
"Scara-chan..."
His face was glued to the wall as he tried to turn around. "Ahahaha! Scara-lose is getting excited i guess!"
Kazuha picked up one of the razors on the floor and pulled Scaramouche behind the garbage can.
"Get down."
Scara did as he was told. He got down on his knees and put his hands between his legs. Kazuha's hands lifted the shirt off her back. He signed with a razor on his left shoulder, over his scapula. Initials of his name. Two "K" letters. Scaramouche's face flushed as he trembled with pain. Tears were running down his cheeks.
"Shit, it's a little too deep. Whatever, you're going to carry my initials for the rest of your life"
He heard the sound of a cell phone's photo.
"Turn your head at me, Scara-lose."
Scaramouche looked into Kazuha's eyes, as if he were about to pass out. His wound was bleeding, and he was beginning to feel dizzy. Kazuha took another photo.
"Well, come on guys. Let's go."
"Should we eat hamburgers?"
Scara listened as the voices drifted away. he picked up the shoes that had fallen to the floor and put them on. he was hurting from the wound on his foot.
"İt's starting to get cold too... I'd better go home."
He wiped his tears and he took off his cardigan so as not to get blood. he staggered home, still dizzy. He stopped by a pharmacy on the way. Luckily the owner had helped him with the sticking the band. And luckily, Scara had enough money for a band.
"Thanks..."
"Go careful, son."
Old lady look at the boy who was closing the door.
"Poor kid."
Scaramouche started to cry again as he closed the pharmacy door.
"What did I do to deserve all this?"
He was walking home crying. The weather was cold. It was autumn day. "I hope I don't get sick. İ better go home fast..."
He didn't want to be sick. No, he didn't want it at all. Because his mother used to have scaramouche do the chores, even if he was sick. He had to go to school, even if he was sick, because the Social Services Institution was coming home when he didn't go to school for a few days. This causing Scara to be beaten up. He was walking home as quickly as possible. If he didn't use the back door of the school... if he didn't stop by the pharmacy he was at home.
"I'm home."
"If you weren't. Come here, Scara." Scara hesitated and went to his mother. her long, braided purple hair was covering her face.
"Go and get me some beer."
"B-but the owner of the shop said he'd call the police if I came back..."
“Go to another shop then, you idiot!” The bottle her mother had thrown passed Scara's face.
"O-Okay..."
Scaramouche took the money his mother gave him.
"I'll kill you if you come without a couple of 4-5 bottles."
Scara pocketed some money from the cash his mother had given him. It would take 4 bottles. This put him at risk, but at least this money was necessary for his survival. He put on her coat and stepped outside.
"Why am I trying to survive though?..."
"You don't look like you're 18."
"I am, besides, it's not for me... For my mother..."
"Let this to be last."
Scara took the bag and went towards the house.
"H-Here..."
"Good job. You did a job too." Scaramouche quickly went to his room. He closed the door. He took the modeling knife. to his waist, his breasts, his collarbone. Fine scratches everywhere.
"I deserved it."
He just knew he deserved it.
After a while he stopped. He started to cry. He got into bed and pulled the blanket over himself. His whole place was numb with pain.
"At least it's warm and comfortable in here. I don't want to fall asleep..."
It was too late. He closed his eyes, falling asleep.
