The school bully was a madman with a manic disorder. Everyone told me to stay away from him, but I went out of my way to provoke him.
Bruises bloomed across my body, yet I still clung to the bully's side.
Later, my father died, and the police found the bully's DNA on his clothes.
Sirens blared. Mom screamed that I was a disgrace who had ruined her family, and that I would get what was coming to me.
I didn't care. I'd already gotten involved with a madman. What else could the world possibly scare me with?
Theme: I did it for my own enjoyment
