I suppose this started when I was 8 years old. This wasn't my story in which I was bullied, but my friends' instead.

When I was 8, I met a pretty nice boy. We were partnered up for a small project, and over time we became friends.

He liked to draw, and so did I, so I bought a notebook using my pocket money. On his birthday, (which was a school day) I gave him the notebook so he could draw on instead of finding scrap paper to draw on. Of course, he was happy and thanked me.

A year later, he still used the notebook and still brought his pencils and the notebook to school to draw on. But one day, he stopped bringing his notebook. This continued on for a while, so I asked him,

"Are you okay? You aren't bringing the notebook, do you hate it?"

He faked a smile and replied with his usual, "I'm alright."

The next day, I noticed him walking home alone, so I walked home with him. This day, he carried his notebook. I remember he clutched it in his arms so hard, it was like he was protecting it.

While walking, there was an older boy than us. He seemed around 12 or 13 years old. My friend told me he wanted to go another path, like as if he was trying to steer away from a problem.

The older boy walked up to us and grabbed my friends' notebook out of his arms. The older boy opened the book and ripped the pages out. He crumpled the pages and ripped them.

It was utterly terrifying to see the look in my friends' face. He was shaking and holding my hand, he was crying and frozen to place.

The pages fell out one by one out of the notebook, and the older boy insulted his drawings. He called them terrible, ugly, stupid, and made fun of each of the drawings my friend put all of his effort into.

That was when I decided to act. I ran holding my friend's hand. The older boy followed us, and of course, he was much faster than us. I yelled at the older boy to stop, I told him to give my friends' notebook back.

I slapped the older boy's face, I gave him a turning kick, I yelled at him as much as I could. I yelled, and yelled, until a neighbour came out. The neighbour told us to run away and let them deal with the older boy.

The next day, my friend came back with his notebook. He was smiling, not a fake one, but a real one. Apparently the neighbour got the notebook back and told the older boy to go away, or they'll be consequences.

In the end, I was glad my friend was all right. He still likes to draw nowadays. He may seem like a wimp, but he sure isn't one. He's kind, brave and shy, he likes to draw and write short stories. He draws flowers, landscapes and fake monsters.

He lives a happy life and has multiple friends. I'm glad he faced no complications anymore.

ADVICE: In hard situations, sometimes it's best to stand up for others rather than being a bystander. Help isn't always easy to get, but surely, it helps.