Part of Chapter One of My Book

“Hey, Ki.” a kid (Ryd I think) said in High Haltarian, using my name instead of some spiteful nickname, “Care to join us in a game of Combat?”

This should have been my first clue that something was amiss, but I wanted so much to be included and liked that I dared believe that they had a change of heart and actually wanted me to join their group.

“Ya,” Ty began calmly, “We're one player short from an even four teams.”

“Ummmm, y-yes, I would like to play” I should have turned and ran at the looks they were giving each other, but as I said before, I wanted so much to be accepted, to have friends.

“Excellent, here's your weapon.” He said, handing me a three foot stick. He then turned to a friend and said something in Common that I didn't understand. I only know the basics of Common, but he must have said something funny, 'cause the rest of the group burst out laughing.

I let a grin appear on my face, trying to look like I understood and thought it was mildly funny.

“Okay, here's your teammates.” He said gesturing to three other kids that I didn't know the name of. “Ready everyone. 'Kay, Start!”

He said this so fast that I didn't even have time to bring my stick up. The first and only thing I knew after that was pain. It seemed that even my own team was mercilessly beating me with their sticks. I threw my stick to the ground yelling “'Kay, 'kay, I'm dead!”

Somewhere deep inside me I knew this was probably going to happen, but that truthful feeling was overwhelmed with the desire to be accepted by these bullies.

I fell to my knees and covered my head with my arms, the beating was getting more ferocious. Every now and then I'd feel a kick to my side or a solid jab of a stick through my defenses and into my head.

I knew I was bleeding, but I didn't know from where. I knew I was in pain, but I couldn't pinpoint a specific spot. I was slowly loosing my senses, my ability to feel was replaced with agonizing pain. All I heard was my own screams and sobs and their laughter. All I saw was flying sticks, shoes and fists. I could only taste blood. I could smell my own fear, and the sweat, the blood and soon the smell of urine as I lost control of my facilities.