Taking A Detour

My hands trembled, and despite the frigid air that enveloped us, sweat trickled down my palms. The icy atmosphere offered no reprieve for my nerves, which smoldered like a furnace. In stark contrast, Bryant's breath remained steady, as if his composure an unsettling counterpoint to my erratic gasps. As we ventured further into the unknown, the shadows of doubt and fear crept closer, obscuring my thoughts like a thick fog. My mind raced with questions, each one pounding like a relentless drumbeat.

"Where are you taking me? What are you going to do to me?" I asked aloud. My desperation kept growing. But Bryant remained silent.

I continued my relentless inquiries, "Please, tell me what's going on." His response was the same—a disconcerting stillness, a calm before a storm I couldn't see but could sense hiding beneath the surface.

And when his patience had finally teetered on the edge of exhaustion, he leaned in with a deceptive gentleness, his lips barely settling against my earlobe. The mere proximity of his breath was enough to shut my lips, and the quiet menace woven into his voice made every word a chilling threat. "Shut up," he whispered, the words soft and almost tender in their delivery, yet they resonated with a chilling finality. It was a command, not a suggestion, as always. I fell into an uneasy silence, swallowed by the disquieting pressure of the gaze that followed afterwards.

The world around us seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for some unknown revelation. I couldn't fathom where we were headed or what awaited me... but one thing was certain—Bryant's intentions remained veiled in darkness, and my questions only seemed to fuel some sort of storm brewing within him.

Eventually, my question found an answer after what went on like an endless walk. We had arrived at some sort of warehouse, its interior shrouded in shadows that danced like specters. This is just the sort of place I had never intended to visit, especially not in the company of someone like Bryant. If it's some kind of hideout, then are the others here too?

My bad luck seemed to have no bounds as I stepped inside the warehouse. There they were, a larger group than I had anticipated. The first time I'd encountered them, there were about five or six, but in this cavernous space, there were a dozen. Their disgusted glances bore into me like branding irons as I entered their clandestine sanctuary.

Bryant, with an air of command surrounding him, ascended a makeshift stage crafted from wooden crates, and announced my unwelcome presence to the gang. The air around us was suffocating me, their gazes chipping away at my already fragile composure. I yearned for answers, but Bryant's wordless dismissal quashed my inquiries again. Avoiding conflict was crucial though. After all, he sat right in front of me in class. If I went about with things the wrong way... and if he gets even a little bit annoyed, I might end up entangled with him just like Hugh.

Should I confide in Ms. Indy? Or perhaps Mr. Clair? Regardless, I couldn't let things spiral further out of control.

Finally, when the tension became almost unbearable, Bryant's voice sliced through the quiet like a blade. "So, Reol... was it?"

"Y-yeah... are you finally going to tell me... why you b-brought me here?"

I didn't stare at Bryant's eyes, but his smile hinted at something beneath the surface. "What do you think?"

My mind raced, trying to decipher his not-so-clear intentions. "W-what I think?"

"Yeah, why would I bring someone like you to a place like this?"

"To tease me... to bully me?"

The most common interpretation, but if I had to spell it out correctly, then it would be to make me a puppet of his madness. That's what he's up to, after all.

"Man! You're so shallow!" Bryant whined, like a little kid throwing a tantrum. "You're not fun at all, Reol!"

My confusion deepened. "B-but what other reason...? You guys just love picking on the weak."

"It's because you're an eyesore." 

My eyes darted from one side of the warehouse to the other, scanning the faces of the others who had gathered here. But as Bryant spoke, they became fixated on him, my gaze slowly tracing its way up from his legs to his torso. "W-what do you mean?" I stammered.

"What I said. Just looking at you pisses me off!"

"But what did I even do? We haven't even met-"

"Always trying to act like the good guy in front of others. Easily swayed by what others say. You just go with what others tell you. You just try to flow along the currents others provide you. You don't have a choice for yourself. You don't have a say to what is good and what is bad. But surely, that's not who you are... who are you even?"

I hesitated, struggling to find words to counter this unexpected barrage. Yet, Bryant showed no interest in waiting for my responses. "I ASKED... who are you even!?"

"W-why does it bother you so much?" I managed to whisper, my voice still trembling. "I'm just doing what I need to, to get along with everyone... what's w-wrong with that?"

Bryant's laughter reverberated through the warehouse, sending shivers down my spine. "You're always dancing around, trying to fit into their mold. It's pathetic. Do you honestly believe they'll ever accept you?"

His words stoked a simmering frustration within me. I balled up my fists, wrestling to put my thoughts into words. "Acceptance... it's not about conformity. It's about compassion, about understanding others."

"Understanding others? Don't make me laugh! When you're trying to make others misunderstand about yourself." His mocking tone felt like a blade slash. It felt as though he was dissecting me, piece by piece, critiquing not just my actions but the very essence of my being, all the while, his eyes bore into mine with an unsettling intensity I couldn't escape. "And what was that word again... compassion, huh? Tell me, Reol, when was the last time your 'compassion' made a difference?" 

His question landed like a heavy blow. When was the last time... I didn't have an answer for that. I had only recently begun teaching myself these things, trying to understand my own worth. If the me who was once indifferent to everyone around him was a failure, then these small steps would surely make a difference. They had to make a difference.

"Th-they do... what do you even know?" I stammered, defending my newfound beliefs.

"Empathy, Reol, that's just a crutch for the weak," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know what I think? People are like predators and prey, and you, my friend, seem like the perfect prey. Just a hollow husk. Whatever you put outside, it's just a show."

I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down. "I don't believe people are that simple. We're all capable of change and growth. I've seen it."

Bryant scoffed, a sardonic grin tugging at his lips. "Change? Growth? What a load of nonsense. You can't change who you are. You'll always be a pawn in someone else's game. Like you are right now."

"Pawn...? I'm no one's pawn..." The word echoed in my mind like a sudden revelation.

"No! You are." As he said this, he moved closer, his breath pushing against my face. "If you never learn to be yourself, then there's no point to it at all. One day or the other, everything will just fall apart."

Before I could react, he grabbed my collar, yanking me in front of him. Then, with a violent shake, I found myself sprawled on the ground. The other gang members circled around us, like spectators at a stand-off, or maybe a one-sided massacre.

"What? Why don't you fight back?" Bryant taunted, circling me.

"Will my punches make you understand anything?" I replied, struggling to get up from the ground.

"Who knows?" He continued to taunt with a mocking tone.

"There's no way you would understand what I've been through," I confessed, my voice weary. "I guess you've got a hunch, just what kind of loser I am... then what's wrong with me trying to become different? Even I want friends... to be like others... but a loser like me can't do that if I show my true worth to others."

"No, you're still a loser. You don't need to even show me anything; everything is visible. A loser who can't fight back," Bryant taunted, circling me.

"Yeah, you're right," I admitted, a sense of resignation in my voice. "That's what you'll understand. But if I make you my enemy right now, then there's no telling what'll happen to me. I'm just sick of this! Being picked on by others just for them to have fun!"

My frustration boiled over as I raised my voice, and in response, he leaned down towards me, once again grabbing my collar and pulling me back up. "You're quite right. I love picking on the weak! I truly hate guys like you! Talking about compassion... empathy... when you can't even raise a fist for yourself. Is this what you truly think you're worth? Nothing?"

"No... I mean..."

"You can't even judge others properly," Bryant interrupted. "I don't know what you take us for, or even just me... but don't mistake us for those thugs you're talking about. At least, I don't pick on someone just for them being weak."

Bryant's laughter rang through the warehouse, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. His hands were still on my collar, giving it a violent shake again, and I tumbled to the ground once more, defeated and overwhelmed by the unexpected complexity of this situation.

"Don't think that things just get better when you start compromising with others... showing compassion to others... when you can't even raise a fist, thinking that you'll make the other person your enemy," Bryant continued to impart his beliefs, his words carrying the weight of his convictions, as if he spoke not just for himself but for the collective spirit of his gang. "That way, you'll just be left with that empty husk of yours. Just act like yourself. Even if those fists can't pack a punch, just raising them in the air will make a difference too."

He reached out his hand again, not to grab my collar this time, but with his hand stretched towards me. "I mean, what's wrong with being yourself? Tell me. Even if the world doesn't accept you... even if you make a few enemies... that doesn't mean there will be no one to accept you. Look around, even I've found a dozen!"