I can hear them laughing from across the halls. My eyes are wet. Another day of torture and pain has begun. How much pain must I endure? How many times a day can you get hurt so badly? For how many more days will everyone remain quiet?
I hear lockers slamming in my aisle, but I keep mine open, hoping that they won’t notice me. But it doesn’t work.
“Hi there, Barf Brain!” My tormenter is tall, ugly, but seems to think that I must endure the pain.
“I only barfed at school once! It was preschool!” I say back. I mean for it to come out angrily, but instead it becomes a whisper.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Bruce starts ganging up on me. His chorus of annoying kids join him, laughing rowdily. They reach forward and push me backwards into my locker. The sound of metal crunching fills the hallways. People stare with wide eyes but they stay back, because nobody messes with Bruce and his gang.
“ STOP IT! STOP TORTURING ME! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU?!” I finally find my voice and yell at the top of my lungs. I feel a rough pleasure at yelling at them, but it disappears as something hard drives into my stomach, arm, then into my mouth. I taste something tangy in my mouth and my lip feels wet. I touch my lips, and an awful sense of burning splits through my whole body.
It was over. Another battle that Bruce the Shark had won. Another battle that everyone had stayed quiet in. I feel grateful that it was over for today, but I know there was going to be another fight tomorrow. We are only two months into the school year, and there are seven more months left. This is just a fraction of the worst war known to mankind.
The next day is awful. Everyone stares at my busted lip, then turn around and whisper among their friends. Bruce and his gang laugh at the sight of my large, swollen, red lip.
“What’s wrong?” Bruce teases, smirking.
I open my mouth to try and speak, but he presses hard into a bruise he created in my arm the day before. I gasp and blink back tears of pain. He then presses his nails into my skin, rubbing it the wrong way, and long red marks appear in my skin, and I can’t hold myself back anymore. I scream a loud scream, with a sob imbedded inside it. I sink to the floor, clutching my arm, which is now bleeding.
Bruce pulls back and yells, “Teacher!” Someone comes running out, my math teacher. She gasps at the sight of me and bends down. She pries my fingers from my arm and with wide eyes looks at Bruce.
“What happened to her?” she asks him.
Bruce shrugs. “I don’t know. I saw her here, crying, so I came over here. But then, I saw her scratching herself with her pencil. When I came to ask her why she was doing that, she started screaming.”
My math teacher frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” She looks at me, “Are you sure? Is that what happened, Ashley?”
I open my mouth to say no, but Bruce gives me a look from behind the math teacher’s back. I know he’s telling me to tell her that’s what I was doing, or he’d hurt me. So I nod yes instead.
My math teacher says kindly, “Well, don’t do that anymore. And maybe you should go to the nurse. Would you like that?”
I nod yes.
“I can take her.” Bruce says kindly, and my heart skips a beat.
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” My teacher says.
Bruce takes my good arm, and pulls me up gently. I knew he was acting this way in front of the teacher. He pulls me into the staircase.
By the time I escape, I have a broken arm and scratches everywhere.
Walking home from school was a good experience. I explore my possible options to putting this to an end.
- Telling Bruce to knock it off
– Risk getting beaten up again
2. Tell mom and dad about Bruce
– Have mom go and yell at Bruce and get me even more in trouble with him
3. Tell one of my teachers or the principal
– Same risk as telling mom and dad
4. Just end my life.
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Though this might not happen to you, it most definitely happens to anyone else. This is what happens to those who are bullied, they might end up having suicidal thoughts or feelings. Over 3.2 million students are bullied all over the world, and about 4,400 victims commit suicide that relate to bullying.
Recently, we had a touching assembly about bullycide right here at Grover. A group of eighth grade students presented a moving presentation about the horror, fear, and anger that people who experience bullying go through. Sometimes, these emotions get so overwhelming, that victims decide to end their precious lives.
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I knew there was only one choice. Only one choice. So I made a letter to my parents.
Mom and Dad,
I love you. And it’s not your fault, because you didn’t know. But I didn’t think I could make it anymore. Most kids laugh and scream and yell with excitement when they come home from school. I do too. But for a different reason. At school, kids have hated me. If you had ever pulled my sleeves up to see, you could see marks on my arms. My broken arm? Same reason. I don’t know what I ever did! I was a good kid. Mom, Dad, please. I couldn’t tell you this before.
It pains a lot to write this because I should’ve told you about all this. But I never had the courage. My teachers are always lecturing us on what to do when we’re being bullied. But it’s different. In movies or in the slideshows they create for us, it’s always so…. Easy. But in real life, not so much. I was scared. No one stood up for me, not even one person.
I wish somebody would just stand up for me, but no one did.
So, Mom and Dad, I love you. I know how much you loved me too. And please, please, save others from the boy who bullied me. His name is Bruce. He is on my team. Tall, black haired.
And one thing. It could have turned out so different if simply one person said something. If one person had decided to help, it could have turned out so different. I could have been happy. I could have been fearless.
I could have been alive.
After that, I stood up shakily. I knew what I had to do. I knew I could do it. I wish that I could have stood up for myself, but it had gone too far. There was no turning back now. I run to the kitchen. I grab the long knife that mom tells me to stay away from and….
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This is what may happen to those unlucky people who get bullied. It goes from little to big. Ashley’s story wasn’t true, but it was based on those of others, who have had the same experience.
We ask something little.
Stand up for someone, and you could save a life.
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Watch this for a fun reminder on preventing bullying and not discriminating:
Grover Middle School's Jagazine 