CreepyPasta Parent Scenarios

29. When You're Being Bullied

You aren't just 'helpless' in some sections.

Jeff The Killer

Like father like daughter/son. Bullies couldn't really touch/affect you, yet they didn't relent. You had heard of your father's past, as he still dwells over and blames himself for it. So you just keep the harassment to yourself.

You were verbally abused by students as they spread rumors. Some say you were a psychopath, but that was just stupid. Just because you were quiet and introverted, that didn't mean you were deranged.

It was one thing being insulted yourself, but when that one common bully, a young kid like you with braces and a spoilt look on his face just had to bring up your father, shit got real.

"You'll turn into your father, an ugly hermit. Probably just as crazy to--"

Your fist came flying to meet his ugly crooked nose. It was in need of fixing.

He flew to the ground with a cry, his hands covering his now bloody nose.

You didn't stop and kept swinging your fists. Wrestling with the one person who made your school life miserable. It felt great as he pleaded for his life as if it were in your hands.

Before you could get ahead of yourself, you were pulled off by another teacher, who screamed a lecture to the both of you. The bully didn't bother listening as he cried for his mom as another teacher help him away from you.

You looked around as the teacher abruptly stopped pulling you away. You were trapped in a ring of children. Other bullies and many bystanders standing there with horrified looks on their faces.

You grinned, if they were insistent on you being crazy. You'd give them crazy.

You let out a fake but believable evil laugh that made kids scamper away so the teacher could lead you through to the office without trouble.

Regret was something you did not feel.

Eyeless Jack (E.J)

When you came home with a rain cloud over your head, your father had to question you. You were always so cheery, ready to tell him all the loads of fun you had at school that day, but it seemed for the past few weeks those conversations shortened bit by bit each day.

You had nothing good to say about that dreadful school. With the kids that picked on you and teachers brushed it off as friendly roughhousing was a nightmare.

You came home with cuts and bruises all the time and your father pestered you about it. You were surprised with yourself for not telling him the truth, brushing it off with a believable excuse, or so you thought.

He had sat you down at the table for dinner, keeping you from leaving with the delicious food in front of you. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" You asked with a mouthful of food, gulping it down in haste so you were ready to answer what your father had to say.

"Those injuries, you didn't inflict them on yourself did you?" His tone was worried and you widened your eyes.

"No! I'm not self-harming. I'm just such a clutz, that's all."

He breathed out a half sigh and then he said, "You've never been a clutz. Not even when you were young, you've always managed not to hurt yourself."

"Well, maybe I am different now." You defended, internally wondering why you were doing so.

"(Y/N), who's hurting you?" Your father found a conclusion that was the truth, he was painfully sure you were being bullied.

"Nobody! I'm fine!" You snapped. Watching your father tilt his head at your tone. Truth be told, you didn't know why you were angry.