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One year ago, I had a friend named Johnny.

Johnny was a gentle soul, and was always there to help others. The day he came out, I was so proud of him, but obviously, there were others who did not share my pride for him. Johnny was bullied mercilessly by a group of flunkies. A couple of weeks later, Johnny and I decided to have a sleep over, over at his house.

While he and his parents went shopping for snacks, I decided to start walking to his home. Who I found there was not Johnny or his parents, but the group of bullies. They held me down as I saw one of them pick up Johnny's kitten and tie it up.

They pried my eyes open as I tried not to notice that one of the bullies picked up a bottle of lighter fluid and doused the cat. I struggled to close my eyes as the bully walked towards the cat with his lighter.

The kitten erupted in a burst of flame, writhing, making perverse meows for help. The cat's skin charred away, and the flunkies left, each with a smirk of satisfaction on his face, I stayed on the ground bawling.

Johnny arrived 15 minutes later. When he noticed what they did, he crumpled to the floor and wailed at the loss of his kitten, and the unfairness of it all. His parents called the police, and I went home. I did not eat, I did not sleep, the writhing of the cat kept replaying in my mind, and the cruel laughs of the bullies were seared into my memory. The next day, Johnny hung himself. The event was kept private, at the request of his parents. The police were still looking for those bullies, but found no trace of them.

One year later, today, no one has seen those bullies still. I truly believe that Johnny had gotten his revenge.

I wish that damned meowing would leave my head.

We miss you, Johnny.