I was in the square that connected the residential and commercial sectors.
In this square there was a large V-shaped amphitheater, and further ahead of it a star-shaped monument. The rest of the place was just grass and some trees, more specifically, ipê trees of various colors.
I have a list of things I hate about Santa Guerra, but there's something I really like: the ipê trees.
Here, for some magical reason, they are always blooming, so I always have a good view of those trees.
Ipê trees are probably the most beautiful trees on the planet. Their leaves are colorful and possess a unique beauty; I always enjoyed seeing them blooming when I visited my grandparents.
And here they are always at their most beautiful. And besides the 5 natural colors that this plant has, here they can also be found in blue, orange, red, and black.
You know those anime scenes where a rain of cherry blossoms begins? It's kind of like that, only much more colorful and beautiful.
A truly wonderful sight, but one completely spoiled by a disturbing element.
Seeing him in that situation, he didn't even seem like the same person who single-handedly defeated several veterans with great ease.
The freshman who had put on a show on the day we entered was tied to the star-shaped monument. He was shirtless to make his injuries clearly visible, and there were many.
He was covered in bruises and scars, but the one that stood out the most was the one below his right eye, the one Bruno gave him.
His situation was sad. He had been there since day one, and no one wanted to get him out of there.
Bruno's group always comes to throw stones at him, and they put other freshmen to try to feed and hydrate him.
Many freshmen failed at this, so he could go several days without eating. It's public humiliation, of the worst kind.
This is the fate of those who challenge the strongest. Humiliation is the only gain from this rebellion.
He's used as an example to everyone else, thus increasing fear and forcing people to submit to his will.
But even so, even being so humiliated, he still has a look of pure determination.
It was as if that energy and desire from the first day hadn't died. No matter how much the bully tries to destroy him, they can't; this guy seems to be just waiting to continue the fight!
I wanted to at least have a chance to ask him what makes him not give up. This guy has already been beaten a lot, but he's still willing to continue.
I think I'll never understand that; I would have given up much sooner.
I walk right past him without looking; I can't do anything to help, so why stay and watch someone else's suffering?!
But that was strange; for some reason, I wanted to help him, which would only make me a target.
Even so, I couldn't let go of that idea, not because I wanted to save him, but because of what doing so would mean. If I were to go there and take him down, it would be the same as saying that I would fight against this system, that I have the same determination and strength as him, that I could be a fighter like him.
But I'm not like that…
I'm the kind of guy who lowers his head. That feeling is just the fruit of an unrealistic fantasy, something about having power or strength.
We all want to be better than we are; the most common feeling in humanity is dissatisfaction with oneself.
I wanted to be able to challenge and defeat these people, I wanted to be able to fight them. But let's be realistic, that's impossible. I'm too weak for that!
If I got into a fight, what would it be like? I have problems just bumping into someone too hard, imagine taking a punch that throws me far away, I'd go straight to the hospital almost dead.
Any desire to fight, for me, would just be masochism. Right now I'm suffering from injuries that are killing me, and one of them was caused by a mere frisbee!
How could someone so pathetic fight? It's a crazy, senseless desire, something I should never harbor. That's why I give up before even trying.
Back in my room, I begin to gather the courage to treat my
Carefully remove my shirt, doing it slowly because the shirt always rubs against my wounds.
Feeling the fabric of your clothes in contact with an exposed wound is immensely agonizing.
I end up staining my shirt with a little blood, leaving it completely red with my vital fluid. Just the act of taking off my shirt was enough for me to reopen my wounds.
Did you know that you can't completely heal a wound? Even after it heals, the wound is still there, and it can reopen.
Your body is constantly recovering from injuries, expending nutrients in the process.
If you don't receive these nutrients, or suffer great physical and psychological stress, wounds that were previously healed can reopen.
And in my case, it's both. I haven't eaten properly in days, and I don't need to talk about my health.
Looking in the mirror, I see the redness on my left chest; in the center of this coloration was an exposed wound.
My skin was raw, the organic, stick-like tissue that protects the inside of my body was absent in that specific place.
I could see my red, calloused flesh exposed, something that shouldn't have happened.
I agonized watching my pulsating flesh bleed. That was the open wound caused by a simple plastic disc, thrown forcefully at me unintentionally.
Looking further down my body, I see another redness on the side of my stomach. It wasn't as serious as the one on my chest, but it was still something serious.
The blisters were in the center of the reddened area; they were those little fleshy bumps that appear in some types of wounds. They itch a lot, but I obviously can't scratch them. My skin would come off if I did.
Turning around, I see the third and worst wound. This one I got from a stray blow; a piece of hammer flew into my back.
I know, I'm really unlucky. This was undoubtedly the worst, as it hurt terribly and wouldn't stop bleeding. I could see an open gash in my back. It was deep, and around it was the perfect mark of the hammer's shape.
Besides these three, there were several small lesions and red areas all over my body.
I wasn't in my best shape, in fact I've never been this bad. I've never had any luck, but now I truly think someone up there is laughing at me.
It can't all just be chance leading me to the worst of the worst places.
I started by cleaning my wounds. It wasn't the first time I'd had to treat my injuries; my parents made sure I knew how to take care of myself with these things.
After cleaning everything, I finally applied the cream I'd received.
I felt an immediate sense of relief; the improvement was almost instantaneous.
Then I put on bandages and some dressings. I was feeling a little better, although the bandages were tightening around my wounds.
It was still six in the afternoon, but I already lay down. A week was long and tiring; I was too exhausted, not to mention I have nothing better to do.
It's been less than a month since I've been here, and look at the state of my body. If this continues, I won't make it to adulthood. Will they let me leave if I'm too badly injured?
Well, whether I get to stay or leave is something I can only know in the future.
Now I'm going to sleep to forget the hunger and the pain. Actually, I have a lot of problems, and sleep is always the best remedy for a hectic life like mine.