The Light Of The Red Moon.

Voices echoed in his head. They whispered to him, "You're weak. They know that. That's why they are bullying you. You know it to be true too. You're weak. That's why you are hiding instead of confronting them."

"That's not bad. A weakling should know his place. That is wisdom. You know your place. That makes you wise. But you are still weak. You will still be beaten."

The voices rang in his mind over and over again. "You are weak. You are weak. You are weak."

They laughed and they mocked him over and over again. He couldn't stop them and he couldn't ignore them. He couldn't deny what the voices said either. It is true. He is weak. But knowing it has not done him any good. There is nothing he can do to change his situation. What use is the repeated mocking if the only thing it gives him is a headache?

"But what can I do?" He whimpered as he held his head in pain.