My name is Reilly August. I used to go to Samson Middle School. I need to hurry up and write this because people need to know the consequences of bullying. Also, St. Peter needs to get on my computer. I don’t really think that guy ever learned patience. Anyway, I had been bullied since I was young. I was short, pale, and weak. I was at the top of my class and the last to be picked for dodgeball. Like I said before, I don’t have much time so I’ll start when things started getting bad.
Crash! Papers and books fluttered through the air. My face twisted into an angry grimace. "I'm so sorry." said Aston, with mock sincerity. He knelt down to pick up my things and then tossed them into the trashcan. I scrambled to grab them while Aston cracked up laughing and walked away. My eyes stung as I dug through the garbage to get all of my books. "Dude, stop digging in the trashcan. That’s nasty." Aston and his posse were standing a few feet from me with big, stupid grins plastered to their faces. People walked by, whispering, pointing. "Stop pushing me around, man." I said bravely. Suddenly, Aston was two inches from my face.
'Whatcha gonna do about it?" He spat through his teeth. I recoiled at the stench of his breath. "That's what I thought." Aston sauntered into a classroom with a snicker as the bell rang. As if by magic, the hallways were suddenly very empty. I held up a book that had a clear liquid dripping from it. Great. I thought. I dropped it back into the trashcan and walked to class.
"Where's your textbook?" Mr. Byrne peered unapprovingly down his nose. I brushed the long, ebony hair out of my eyes and looked at the ground. "I, uh, lost it." I mumbled feebly. Mr. Byrne shook his head. "Get an extra book off the shelf and take your seat." I glared at Aston, who was whispering to his friends and making motions towards me, obviously explaining what had happened earlier. Aston sat back and grinned at me, his black, piggish eyes sparkling, while his friends laughed.
"Spread out your desks and please remember not to talk. I don't care if you're not talking about the test. If I catch you whispering, you'll get an automatic fifty." Mr. Byrne glanced pointedly at Aston. "Bring your tests to me when you're done." He sat down and pored over the documents at his desk. I focused on the thick packet of paper in front of me. Oh boy. This thing is huge. Something sharp ground against my spine. I winced and arched my back, barely holding back a yelp. Spinning around, I saw Aston smirking at me, an unbelievably sharp pencil in his grubby hands. I shot him a glower that I hoped would appear intimidating. After a few minutes, I felt something wet fastening my shirt to my back. After a quick trip to Mr. Byrne’s desk, I found myself in the bathroom, my shirt draped across the sink. A small trickle of blood oozed from a miniscule hole in my back. When I had stemmed the flow to the point where it wasn’t dripping freely, I returned to his classroom. “Please finish up the problem you’re on and turn in your tests.” Mr. Byrne was saying when I walked in. “But I was in the bathroom and I don’t have very much done.” I tried to explain. “It was your decision to go to the bathroom.” I strode to Mr. Byrne’s desk and explained what had happened during the test. The teacher scanned the room until his gaze fell on Aston. “Please stay after class. I need to have a word with you.” Aston’s eyes went from me to Mr. Byrne, understanding why he needed to speak to him.
I turned the corner of the school building on his way to bus 7. Hands reached out, pulling me into the back parking lot. A shriek rose from the bottom of my throat as I was thrust to my knees. “Don’t hurt the tattletale, guys.” I recognized the deep voice of Aston. Looking up, my mind registered the cocked fist and twisted sneer way too late. Slam! White pain exploded in my face and stars danced in front of my eyes. Caught off guard, I was thrown onto my back. Two sets of arms pulled me roughly to my feet. I peeled my eyes open. “Ow.” I managed to groan. The blows kept coming, even after my eyes swelled into slits. The metallic taste of blood flooded through my mouth. My vision was imperceptible through the crevice of my eyelids. The punches stopped suddenly and my arms were hoisted up behind me. My captors struggled to hold me still while Aston pummeled my stomach. Once, twice, three times I was struck until I finally heaved up my lunch. I was suddenly dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Aston swore. Heavy footsteps faded away into the distance. Through the cracks in my eyelids, I spotted a teacher walking out to his car, oblivious to the student sprawled on the pavement. My throat was suddenly very dry. “Help.” I croaked. I pulled my inhaler out of my pocket and took a few puffs to get my breath back. A few moments after the car left, I sat up. I should get out of here before Aston comes back. My stomach heaved as I stood shakily to my feet. Slowly and painfully, I started the short walk home, spitting blood into the grass every few steps.
I gasped as the cold ice soothed my burning skin. I needed to return my face to partial normality before my mom got home from work. There was no use in telling her. She would contact the school and I would likely get beaten up again. After an hour of icing and a little bit of my mother’s makeup, I looked a little bit more like myself.
The next day at school, I tried not to put on too much makeup because that may draw more attention than the bruises and swelling themselves. I made it through the morning with only a few double takes but no confrontations. It was during the afternoon that things went bad. I saw Aston walking my way. I should have just walked the other way. Not confronting the bully would have been better. As I walked past him, Aston slammed me against the lockers. The rest of his posse followed suit. My bruised face slammed into one of the locks. I fell to the ground with a groan, my face in my hands. When I looked up, I realized that Aston was invading my personal space. I flinched, hitting my head against the lockers. OUCH. “What’s wrong with your face?” he asked scornfully. He ripped off the hat I was wearing and tossed it across the hall. “Woah. You look awful.” Aston smacked me playfully, just enough to make me wince and turn away. I felt my cheeks heat up but I didn’t know if it was from anger or my now irritated bruises. Aston looked around, realizing that he was drawing a crowd. Someone started a chant. “Fight, fight, fight.” It spread like a wildfire until everyone in the hallway was shouting. One of Aston’s friends pulled me almost violently to my feet. We circled one another. Aston was beaming confidently. I had my fists up and my head low, trying to protect my tender face. I saw Aston flinch. Pain erupted in my stomach, reminding me of what had happened the day before. Anger flooded through my whole body, coursing through every vein. Unconcerned about the consequences, I screamed at him. “Why do you always have to be such an-“ “Aston!” Suddenly, the bully was pulled backwards. A teacher was angrily asking what was going on. The people in the crowd scattered almost immediately. I looked at the ground. "Do you need to go to the nurse?" The teacher had noticed that I was clutching my stomach. To avoid questions about my face, I said a hurried no and then ran to my classroom. I peered around the corner just in time to see the teacher dragging Aston to his office. Apparently, he had seen the whole thing. As I peered around the corner, Aston glared at me, making a very obscene hand gesture. I’m gonna feel this one later. I thought with a sinking feeling. For the entire afternoon I found myself looking over my shoulder. Unfortunately, there were the few moments when I wasn’t looking over my shoulder and that was when Aston chose to strike. I felt a sharp blow in the small of my back. With a cry, I fell forward, too surprised to put my hands forward and break my fall. The bruises on my face screamed and I lay there, wishing the pain would just go away. Rough hands jerked me to my feet. Then I was moving quickly. My green eyes opened wide as I whipped my head around, trying to see where we were going. Rows of lockers passed me and I realized we were heading to the very end of the hallway. This was as far away from the classrooms as possible, the farthest away from help. They’re gonna kill me. I thought. But they wouldn’t go that far. Would they? I kicked and flailed, deciding that whatever they were going to do with me wouldn’t be good. I started to shout for help but all I got was a dirty hand over my mouth. We stopped. Aston walked along the row of lockers, searching for a preset one. Number 283 was the winner. Only when Aston began to throw all of the books and papers out of it did I realize his intentions. I jammed my heels onto the inside of the locker. I was NOT going into that locker. “Please stop! I’ll do anything! You can beat me up or whatever but please don’t put me in there!” I stammered. Aston and his thugs didn’t respond to my pleas. Instead, they lifted me bodily off my feet and shoved me in. My thin frame fit snugly inside of the locker but I could already feel claustrophobia setting in. I heard something hit the ground. My inhaler. “Wait, I need my-“ The locker door slammed shut. “Dude, he’ll be fine. It’ll just teach him a lesson not to mess with me.” I heard Aston say. My mind went blank with panic. My breaths came short and ragged. Instinctively, I reached for my inhaler. I forced myself to calm down and breathe steadily but my lungs wouldn’t listen. The locker walls suddenly seemed a lot closer. I couldn’t sit down and I couldn’t quite stand up. My knees were already groaning from the strain. I banged on the door and shouted. All I got was less breath and a sore throat. Oh my gosh. [/i]I'm going to die in here[/i]. I tried to shove that thought out of my head but I had to face the solid truth. I was getting less and less air with every breath. My chest was heaving and I was beginning to feel lightheaded. You have your phone, you know. My mind reminded me. I shifted my position to get my hand to back pocket. I got stuck halfway there. The locker was too narrow. Now my arm was twisted on top of everything else. I burst into tears of despair. My head slumped to one side and I just…gave up. The small bit of light coming through the slits in the locker faded to black and white. My eyelids lowered. I realized I had stopped breathing but I was completely calm. I looked down at my chest. It wasn’t moving anymore. I moved like I was in a thick liquid. Even the sound of a locker slamming was in slow motion. Someone's in the hallway. My mind processed the thought slowly. I tried to raise my hand to bang on the locker but my body wouldn’t listen to me. Everything faded to black. I realized I was floating. My face wasn’t hurting. All of the pain in my body was gone. The locker was gone and there was so much darkness around me. A bright light twinkled in front of me. I squinted at it as it grew larger and larger. I laid back and closed my eyes, finally at peace.
