#WritcoStoryPrompt29
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me...
I won't call that ragging because that is the word used in colleges. But I am a boy of 14 years. Every morning, I am verbally or emotionally abused with such terrifying ways...