This is a very strong and moving section, especially the deep dive into Bradley's past trauma and self-hatred. I've focused on maintaining that emotional intensity while clarifying the transitions and cleaning up the dialogue tags and minor inconsistencies, all while keeping your authentic voice.
Here is the fixed and improved draft:
Bradley looked at the boys on the ground.
"Tsk, now I have to make an excuse and take them to the infirmary," Bradley said as he slightly kicked Adrian's leg, making him groan in pain while still unconscious.
Bradley closed his eyes, and then his body glowed brightly, lighting up the room.
The spirit Bradley came out of his body.
[Tsk, that spirit died too fast, fucking weakling] he said.
Bradley's eyes changed back from the eerie black to his usual brown.
Bradley sighed and replied with his normal voice. "Of course, what did you expect? It was a low-rank evil spirit."
[Yeah, but I expected him to put up a fight, not just beg for his life and try a sneak attack.] He crossed his arms.
"Yeah, yeah, now help me heal these bastards before I get in trouble."
Bradley walked towards his bag and opened it, removing some tissues and a bottle of water.
He then walked to Adrian, grabbed his head, and poured water on his face to wash away the blood, using the tissues to clean him up.
Spirit Bradley walked to the back of the class where Dickson was buried between the fallen desks, grabbed him by the leg, and dragged him all the way next to Adrian.
[You almost killed them. You are lucky I can heal injuries caused by spiritual energy. If you would've fought them with your physical strength—you'd have been cooked.] Spirit Bradley said, placing both hands on Adrian's and Dickson's chests.
Their bodies glowed brightly. Their injuries started to heal quickly.
"I know, that's why I fused with you. Oh, don't heal them completely, so they learn their lesson—though, they aren't going to remember anything that happened anyway," Bradley instructed.
The other him nodded and only healed the major injuries, leaving their faces swollen to make it look as if they had fought each other.
After a couple of seconds, Spirit Bradley retracted his hands from their chests.
[Tsk, wasting spiritual energy on these bastards.]
Bradley looked at his watch. It was past eight o'clock—classes started exactly at eight.
"Fuck, I'm late!" Bradley cursed.
[You're complaining as if you don't skip classes most of the time. If you miss this one, it won't make a difference at all.]
"I know, but it's the first class of the semester. I gotta show up on the first day and then skip the rest of the week," Bradley said, shamelessly.
Spirit Bradley just shook his head at his answer.
Bradley quickly lifted Adrian and Dickson, placing both boys on his shoulders, and carried them out of the class with ease despite his skinny body.
After dropping them off in the infirmary and lying to the nurse that they had fought, he rushed back to his class.
He opened the classroom door.
He was met with stares.
"You're late for the first class of the first semester, Mr. Dentlinger... as usual." Someone said with a soft voice.
The class chuckled.
Bradley looked at the person who had just spoken.
She had shiny black hair and light brown eyes. She wore formal black and white clothes that hugged her curves perfectly. She looked to be in her 30s.
She was a very beautiful woman—his teacher.
She was standing while writing notes on the board.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Melina, for coming late. There were some issues in the way," Bradley apologized.
Melina just sighed. "Go to your seat. There won't be a next time."
Bradley nodded.
He closed the door of the class and walked past his seated classmates, most of whom gave him scornful and resentful looks.
Bradley just ignored the stares and moved towards the far back of the class, where a boy with black hair and green eyes was seated, waving at him.
He sat at the last seat that was next to the window and beside the boy.
"Yo, wassup, bro." Kirby greeted him with a smile.
"Yo," Bradley replied.
They both dapped up, which made a loud sound in the class, causing some students to look back and click their tongues in annoyance.
Melina just looked at them with her lazy brown eyes—that was a warning.
"That was an immaculate dap." Kirby whispered.
"On God." Bradley said as he chuckled lightly.
"You look like shit." Kirby said, pointing at his dusty uniform.
"Yeah, some pricks decided to get in my way."
"Oh, Dickson and Adrian?" Kirby asked.
"Yeah, taught them a lesson, though."
"It was about damn time." Kirby said.
They both chuckled.
"So, what did I miss?" Bradley asked.
Kirby leaned back on his chair and said, "Nah, you didn't miss much. Ms. Melina was just going through the curriculum for this semester."
"A lot of yapping, I guess?"
"Yeah, a lot of yapping," Kirby said as he looked forward.
Kirby looked back at him and asked, "I'm surprised you appeared on the first day of school. Normally, you wouldn't even appear for the first two weeks. What happened?"
"Nah, nothing, just decided to be a new man. From now on, I'll be showing up for classes every single day," Bradley said shamelessly.
"Cap." Kirby replied flatly.
"Deadass." Bradley said with a serious face.
Kirby studied him silently for a bit, then opened his mouth and pointed his pen at him. "What did you do to my friend? Please give him back!"
Bradley almost laughed out loud before shutting his mouth closed at Melina's glare.
"Phew." He took a deep breath.
They both looked to the front and started paying attention to class.
Well, Bradley wasn't really paying attention. His eyes were on Melina, but his thoughts were somewhere else.
I still wonder why he befriended me despite the messed-up stuff I did in the past. He thought.
The Bradley before meeting Kirby was vastly different from what he was right now.
He was an insufferable, terrible, arrogant bastard who looked down on anyone inferior to him.
Typical of a spoiled rich brat.
Many would say it was the parents' fault for their kids to turn out like that, which was true in most cases, but in Bradley's case, it was different.
His parents were actually good people despite being rich. They didn't look down on anyone just because they had money; they were so humble that if someone looked at them, they wouldn't think they were filthy rich.
People say that rich people are arrogant, but his parents were the opposite.
They taught him well, but he just didn't listen.
It was just him who refused to learn.
It was very abnormal for a kid his age to behave like that.
It got to a point that he started bullying other people because of his status.
But that had consequences.
When he reached ten years old, one of the kids he bullied in middle school couldn't handle it anymore and jumped from the second floor of the school building.
It was a traumatic sight for the students, and even for him.
There was blood everywhere. He had never forgotten that scene. He didn't mean to cause his classmate to try and kill themselves, but a sin is still a sin, whether you directly or indirectly caused it.
Fortunately, the kid survived, though he couldn't walk for a while. But with rehabilitation, he was able to walk again thanks to his parents paying for the highest physiotherapists.
His parents had apologized so much to the victim's parents and to the victim, even kneeling in front of them to not press charges against their son. Because if they did—Bradley's life would have been ruined.
Seeing his mom crying and his father kneeling stirred something in him: Regret. Self-hatred.
It was all because of him they suffered that humiliation, but his parents didn't care if they had to go through that if it was for the sake of their son—truly humble.
The victim's parents didn't press charges, but he was expelled from the school and had to stay at home for a year, which his parents willingly accepted.
If it were other parents who saw that their child committed such a terrible deed, they probably would have beaten them up, screamed at them, punished them, or anything that came to mind to reprimand their child.
However—Bradley's parents were different.
Can you guess what they did?
They didn't punish him or beat him or scream at him or reprimand him.
They did no such thing.
They hugged him and cried.
They blamed themselves for his actions.
Even though it was my fault.
They said that they were bad parents, that they didn't teach him enough or spend enough time with him. Maybe if they taught him more, he wouldn't have done such a thing.
They went through slander, were criticized, and blamed. Their company was affected by it, dropping in sales and everything, but his parents still didn't blame him and apologized to the world for their son's crime.
"A child's behavior reflects their parents'; we apologize for not being good parents and not raising him well." That was what his parents had said in a press conference.
That line stuck in his head till now, and probably until the day he will die.
Seeing his parents blame themselves, cry, and shoulder the blame for him hurt him so much to the point of him starting to hate himself. Wanting to disappear. Wanting to die.
He did not deserve his parents.
He did not deserve the love they gave him.
He did not deserve anything he had.
But they still loved him.
"Why do you guys still love me despite everything that I have done?" His younger self asked his parents with tears running down his face.
"Because parents are supposed to share their children's sins and love them through anything that comes in life. No matter what you do wrong, we'll always love you and do better to guide you on the right path while we're still alive on this earth, and we believe that you'll change." His mother said as she and his father embraced him.
And that hurt him more than any beating he ever took for the past five years.
He never got to apologize—they died in the same year.
Their death left him hollow.
"You only realize that something was precious to you when you lose it, and it becomes a memory—a reminder that you'll never have it ever again."
He thought that maybe God decided to punish him for his sins by taking his parents away from him.
And, oh God, that was the worst punishment he could ever receive.
I WANT TO DIE. I WANT TO DIE. I WANT TO DIE.
Those were the thoughts going through his head for the past five years.
He wanted to die, but he couldn't kill himself.
He didn't have the courage to.
He was a coward after all.
So he tortured himself: starving, cutting himself sometimes, getting bullied, and getting beaten. No matter how much pain he felt from that, it couldn't compare to the hole inside his heart.
After discovering he had supernatural powers, he decided to fight evil spirits, no matter how powerful they were.
Even if they were scary.
If they bit him.
Cut him.
Tore him.
That was his way of atoning for his sins. If he died, so be it; he'd finally get what he wanted since he couldn't do it with his own hands.
But if he didn't die, he'd still fight until the day he dies.
He didn't notice when, but he was crying.
He cleaned his tears quickly before anyone could notice.
He then looked at Kirby.
And somehow, he befriended me despite my past. I truly appreciate you, really.
One day, he had asked Kirby why he wanted to be his friend despite what he did.
"I am nothing but an imperfect soul. How could I judge others just because I sin differently?" That was what he said.
He didn't expect such wise words coming from Kirby—the guy who loved food above anything else.
A true big back. Bradley chuckled inwardly.
...
Hours had passed, and the class finally finished.
It was break time.
Bradley stretched himself; he had fallen asleep mid-class.
"Bro, you need to start sleeping early. You're not Batman." Kirby said as he brought food from the cafeteria and handed it to him.
"And you gotta stop eating too much. Look at how big you are."
"Never!" He rebuked as if not eating was a sin.
Kirby was very big and tall for his age. He worked out, so he never became fat.
Is it only me, or does he grow much bigger every single day?
[Nah, you're not tripping.] Spirit Bradley said.
"Anyway, this class is low-key useless. It's ethics. I don't need to learn ethics," Bradley said.
Kirby sat down. "You definitely need ethics. You're becoming so salty."
"Me? Salty? No way." Bradley asked.
Kirby chewed his sandwich and nodded. "Yeah, you're the saltiest person I know."
"I'm the saltiest when I bust the hot ejaculated nut down your throat."
Kirby choked on his sandwich.
"Cough, cough, bro, why do you have to start with your homosexual rigamarole on a Monday?"
"Sybau." Bradley said as he laughed.
[Gay.] Spirit Bradley said.
Shut up.
***************
A/N: For those who don't know, 'sybau' means SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP.