I still remember the warmth that lingered in the hand that I held that day.
He was so strong and warm, and I felt a sense of dependability that I had never felt before outside of my family.
He pulled me out of those hard days. Even at a young age, the words “prince on a white horse” were in my head.
But that prince had suffered retribution.
I would never think of that retaliation as “my fault.”
It is not my fault that he gets bullied.
It’s all the bully’s fault, of course.
I still hold that view today. It is natural.
I was a “victim” too.
But I could never be Cinderella.
Because, Cinderella usually does not betray her prince.
I betrayed him. I was a part of his tormentors, and I betrayed him.
I had a reason. I was threatened.
He said if I bullied him, he would not bully me anymore. If I go against it———–then.
But that was just an excuse. The fact remains that I betrayed him.
Soon after, Prince Charming transferred to another school. He was still carrying the guilt that I had put on him.
”D-Don’t touch me!!”
I will probably never forget the hand that shook me off that day.
In the face of such clear rejection, I could do nothing.
It was only then that I learned that he went to the same school as me.
He had grown his hair long and was wearing a mask, but I recognized him at a glance. I knew.
I wondered how long he had known. It is possible that he had already noticed me when I arrived at the school as a new student.
One month. I felt ashamed that I had been living in such a carefree manner.
From his reaction, I was probably being avoided. No, he was avoiding me.
I’m just being overlooked because of his kindness.
”Why can’t I blame him?”
Surely, to him, I am an object of hatred.
He was bullied for many times longer than I was.
I was bullied and immediately rescued. So the period was not that long.
But there was no one to save him. I, who should have done the most, had already betrayed him.
And then I realized that he was supposed to bully me.
I didn’t say that. People around me testified to it.
All I had to do was say, “No.” And then the whole thing would have come out and I would have been rightly judged.
I had to do that, even if he would not forgive my betrayal.
But I couldn’t. I could not say anything.
It was taken as tacit approval, and everyone demonized him.
“It …..couldn’t be helped.”
Yes, I mouth excuses to myself, understanding that I am the worst.
I was scared. I was afraid I would be bullied again.
I was bullied for a short period of time, but those days are a part of my life that I never want to go back to.
I never told anyone about this crime. There is no one who would accept me.
I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll go back to the way I was. This possibility made me even more timid.
I know. It’s just another excuse.
I have kept myself in check by making myself a “victim” in this way.
He seems to want to pretend that the incident never happened. I am sure that is why he does not blame me.
If that’s the case, why not? After all, I am the “victim.”
I told myself that, understanding better than anyone else that such logic would not work.