“I ain’t no Little Red Riding Hood.” I said.
I sent a glare over the boys hoping to sap some of their strength or buckle their knees.
“So why are you wearing a red hoodie?” The ringleader laughed and then checked to ensure his three friends were still with him. The boys laughed with empty eyes. They had lost their souls a long time ago. I’m not sure why he though he needed to confirm their allegiance. Perhaps he needed draw strength from their glazed vacant eyes. The empty laughter. He had to see it with his own eyes because he did not believe it himself.
“So these ‘friends’ of yours aren’t real friends are they?” I said feeling the tingle burning under my flesh. “They actually look very similar. Triplets of the vacant soul?”
He flashed his own glare at me and I smiled in victory even as they started circling the wagons.
“What couldn’t you find real people to be your friends? You had to make your own?”
I reached into my memory for all the taunts I’d ever heard. We use our greatest weakness as our weapons because we know how badly they can hurt. We’ve seen the damage first hand. Words can hurt. This punk was going to hurt.
He glowered and bore his teeth. He tensed up. He was readying himself and his army for a pounce. I needed to keep them circling. I could show no weakness. I needed to be a wall of defiance. I could not be moved by him and his ‘friends.’ The power was burning and raising through my skin. It hurt like the dickens but I couldn’t let him see that.
I looked at the vacant faces standing behind the bully and wondered if they could be helped. Did they all have to be taken out or just him. Did I have enough for two blasts?
“What a sad little boy you must have been on the playground. The one with the biggest broken heart. The boy who equates love with domination. I can imagine what the shrink bills would have been for you if there were any of those around still.”
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