Hey Four Eyes, Marcus yelled and I winced as a hooded sneaker smack in the linonium.

Marcus and I were far from friends.

I've known Marcus since my family moved here when I was 8. My first interaction with him was on the playground and my first day of school.

Marcus, and his small band of cronies wandered up to me as I sat in the sandbox, clearly drawn over by the new kid and made the dynamic of our future

relationship clear right away.

I had sand kicked in my face, a sneaker pressed on my chest, and before I knew it, I was on my back in the sandbox as Marcus informed me that he would be collecting my lunch money from now on, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

As I lay there, staring up at him him that had a teacher inside to help me, I know

at eight what it was like to be truly helpless. And for eight years he took this as a personal challenge to make my life a living hell.

My lunches were stolen, my glasses were broken, my things were vandalized, and my friends

and I were tormented by the ever-present shadow of Marcus Hyans.

I did make friends, of course, but many people avoided me simply because I had elicited

the ire of Marcus. He was a constant presence in my life, always there,

always looming, always waiting for his next opportunity to show me what I was,

his constant victim. I never owned anything that he didn't try to destroy or take away from me.

I never liked a girl that he didn't immediately woo and dump in a semester.

Marcus made it his business to have anything I wanted but couldn't afford

so he could rub it in my face. I kept hoping just as mother had always taught me

that karma would catch up with him and his actions would be punished

by that ever-present force of cosmic justice.

It seemed, however, that Kama was not on my side.

As we grew, Marcus became the darling of whatever school he attended and I became known as a bit of a weirdo.

I was a quiet kid. I liked to write. My grades were fine, but I was an introvert and didn't like to show off in class.

...