So tired

Morning came again, and to his utter disappointment, Bambi was not dead, or even comatose.

"I actually have to go huh." His soft, subdued voice left his swollen lips.

-those stronzo! He kept thinking, every time his wounds leaked bright crimson, and his body ached.

-I don't deserve such treatment.

He limped and fumbled his way to a little corner of his poorly lit room, where there was a tiny mirror, and froze in shock at what he saw.

His jet black braids were half done, his thick coils were poking out of every single pattern he had painstakingly braided in place.

Matted with a dark brown substance, and no longer with any lustre, his hair seemed to cry out for help and restoration.

-that's how it is for those of us that are just prey. It's our natural way. I am to be preyed upon, harmed, beaten, bruised and scared.

Bambi looked down, and his eyes went dull. The tears had stopped falling years ago, and all that was left was a dissociating acceptance. Despite the heavy pounding of his heart, and clenching of his fists, there were no signs of anger to be seen on his bruising face.

A few seconds of this, and he began pouring water on his matted, destroyed hair, and undid his braids. The young man combed out his cloud of shadow and let it fall half over his face.

-not like there's any other way for me to cover the bruises.

He thought to himself, hoping that no one would notice the campus dreg.

-hopefully it hurts to look at me, so I don't garner any more attention.

Finally finishing with cleaning up as much as he could, he went in search of his old hoodie. Upon finding it, his face wrinkled.

-ugh. It stinks.

He looked away, and stood there. He knew he had to go back to campus, to face his humiliation and the now completely warped reputation he had. Bambi sat on his little mattress in quiet distress, and just sighed.

-I might have to move again.

He thought with a sad chuckle.

As he took a dissociative moment, his old flip phone grabbed his attention and pulled him back to reality.

It was James.

"Pronto?" A smooth voice spoke on the other end of the cracked phone, followed by a light chuckle. "I've been taking some lessons fam. You good?"

Through a loveless voice, Bambi replied "Sono esausto." His southern accent making itself known.

"Hold on, lemme get a translator real quick!" James replied, with fumbling heard on the other end of the phone.

"Before you do, how do I fake a doctors note? I'm not prepared for school today." He said, in the hopes of distracting his only friend—worried about his slip up.

"Uhm….. it ain't gonna be easy. I know a guy, but he would probably want cash for that." James said in a pensive tone.

"Cazzo." he said, "I'll just see if I can skip." Bambi said— more to himself that anything else.

"You good man?"

"Perfecto." Bambi replied and tried to shake off the exhaustion. "Okay. I've gotta run."

Before letting the James say anything, he cut the call, and rummaged through his dirty laundry for something that didn't smell like death.

It was a light brown hoodie, faded black jeans and his worn out sneakers.

-this will have to do.

Walking out and up a few flights of stairs, he got to the main floor of his dorm building. It was plain, stunk of unclean boys, and looked like it smelled. With his massive cloud of hair covering his face, Bambi took off—it was time to face the class that watched him get beaten up and pissed on.

On his way, he realized that he was being given a wide berth. No one wanted to be close to him.

-I'm thankful for the space, but I hate the reason I'm getting it.

He let another sigh leave him, and once he was out of the common hall, on his way to class, he took a few deep breaths, to centre himself.

There it stood. Block G room 420. He could hear shuffling, laughter and the occasional shout. Behind these doors, were his aggressors and their accomplices. He could show no weakness.

Standing straight, with his chin up, and posture strong, Bambino pushed the doors open, and walked in.