The Echo of a Kick

Leo sat in the dirt, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, his small frame shaking not just from the punch he’d received moments ago, but from a cold, creeping anger. It wasn’t fair. The bigger boys, always picking on him, always laughing.
Behind him, he heard a yelp.
He turned, the world blurring through tears of frustration. There was Buddy, the neighborhood stray that Leo often shared his lunch with, tail tucked low. One of the bullies had his leg cocked back, ready to strike again. Another kick landed with a dull thud.
The anger inside Leo solidified into a hard, dark knot. He felt helpless against the boys, a mere target for their cruelty. But watching Buddy, weak and defenseless, an ugly thought sprouted: If I can’t stop them, maybe I can make someone else feel what I feel.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his lip. He didn’t intervene. Instead, he watched, a silent participant in the cycle of pain. A kick from above, a kick below. The echo of the bullies’ cruelty was already finding its next victim. The chain reaction had begun.