[BL, MTL] I'm Not Shouldering This Blame

Chapter 31: Protagonist

The signs of collapsed shops on the street are soaked in muddy water.

Several of the old houses were leaning, the roofs were gone, the rain was washing over the furniture, and there were many things floating in the water: clothes, plastic basins, and half a leaky basketball.

I don't know where the muffled voice of the radio came from: "Uh-huh...... Fourth day of Hurricane Jennifer hitting South Sulsa...... Hurricane Jennifer, who was originally predicted to make landfall in Mexico, suddenly changed direction in the early morning of November 7 and finally made landfall in Nansa on the evening of November 7...... Most of the adjacent Gulf of Mexico has suffered severe damage and paralyzed transportation......"

The wind has subsided, but the torrential rain has not abated.

An apple was swept by the current, half floating and half sinking, stumbling through all kinds of debris. The rain smashed it down and drifted to a sheltered place above, and the apple stubbornly popped up again.

This "difficult" journey was abruptly interrupted.

A thin hand stretched out in the dark, quickly scooped up the apple from the muddy water, wiped the apple with the clothes on his body, and couldn't wait to nibble on it.

The rain hit his face, and his reddish-brown hair was wet and sticking to his head.

He held the apple and nibbled hard, like a frightened hamster, his freckled cheeks bulging high, and his eyes looked around uneasily. After a slight click, the boy reluctantly threw the bitten pit in half into the water.

His name is Johnson. Brown.

Fourteen years old, just in the ninth grade.

About four days ago, in the evening, he blew up his school......

For an American boy of his age, Johnson is skinny. Because of his poor family situation, he wore ill-fitting clothes, old clothes issued by the almshouse, often no socks in his dirty sneakers, and his hair was not well combed, all of which made Johnson look sloppy and became the object of ridicule in the public school.

His textbooks were torn to shreds, his homework was missing, and he was severely reprimanded by his teacher.

The finished product of the craft class was smashed, and the cabinet was often pried open and stuffed with sludge, the corpse of rats, and in one case a rabbit that had been skinned.

Johnson didn't know who did it, and the people around him whistled to see him look good.

If he told the teacher, not only would he not find out, but he would also encounter even more severe retaliation.

He endured it silently, and gradually, this cold violence escalated.

The basketball classmate rudely knocked Johnson to the ground as he passed, saying sorry, grinning and picking up one of his knocked teeth and laughing loudly. A fourteen-year-old boy clenched his fists and arms less than half the thickness of his classmates, just like a chicken. The other party "unintentionally" smashed his elbow, and he planted his head on the lawn again.

Since then, he has often been bruised and purple, all of which he "accidentally" fell and hit.

A new public school teacher came in the last year and kindly helped him, but Johnson's situation did not improve.

Lawyers who provide free services to victims of school violence came to the school, and no one in the school came forward to testify that Johnson had been bullied, except for the teacher.

There is always a misconception that the people who are victims of school violence are good students.

Sometimes it is precisely the good students who use violence, the big boys who everyone loves, and the victims are the children that the teachers don't like and their peers hate.