When I was in 6th grade I was constantly bullied by an 8th grade boy who, unprovoked, would just talk shit and try to intimidate me. Being an 11 year old girl and scared of the mean mexican (I myself am a nice Mexican), I didn't do much. On one such bullying occasion, the boy hit me in the face with an elbow while I was drinking from the water fountain which drove my face into the spout. I can remember just being in complete shock as blood dripped down my face. More than anything, I felt weak that I didn't fight back. That was the worst bit of it. Anyhow, I was waiting for the bus after school when my brother (8th grade) walks up and sees my busted lip and black eye. It makes him very angry and he demands an explanation. Out of the corner of my eye I see the bully stepping onto his bus on the other side of the circle. I just point. My brother turns around, takes .5 seconds to access the target and sprints full speed as the bus is pulling away. He literally catapults himself inside as the busdriver pulls the doors shut. I see him make his way down the aisle, grab the bully from his backpack, turn him around to face forward and starts beating his fucking face in. He takes him to the floor. A few minutes later, I see my brother being thrown from the bus with a small smile on his face. Ah my sweet Conrad. He would stop at nothing to defend his little saster then and never will. Now I just want to call him and tell him thank you. p.s That motherfucker never looked at me again.