My body was wooden with fright, worry. I saw them coming towards me, evil smirks on their faces. They knew I was their property, and they could do whatever they liked to me and I would keep quiet. When I look back at this, I think about how I was a weak, cowardly boy. If I knew that boy back then I would have shook him on the shoulders and told him to do the right thing and tell someone.
They demanded my lunch money, they demanded my new trainers, they demanded me to wipe their shoes until they were sparkling. I got pushed against the wall while the whole gang threw sticks at my face. This happened daily. Even at the weekends, the gang would get their older brothers and cousins to come and scare me while I was out doing the weekly shop with my mother and older sister. My mother and sister saw what was happening, but what could they do? They were both timid and innocent. My sister sometimes pulled me away from the boys but then all they did was laugh, saying that I was stupid. I endured this from the young age of 10 all the way until I was 16. The only reason the bullying stopped was because I finally told a teacher. I told Miss about the sticks. I told Miss about the pushing. I told Miss about the lunch money. At the end of my story I was reduced to tears. I realised how much I had suffered. I used to accept the bullying as part of life, something that everyone goes through. When the kind teacher told me what to do, I saw tears in her eyes.
The next day, the boys were called to the Headmaster's office. They shot me horrible looks as the pushed passed all the pupils. A few minutes later, I was called in the office.
Surprisingly, as I entered the office, I did not get any nasty looks or glares. Finally, after a minute of silence, I heard a voice. "I'm sorry,"
Then I heard someone say "Me too,"
Soon many choruses of "Sorry,"
"I feel ashamed,"
"You're a good lad, really,"
Suddenly, everything came in to focus. All the boys were apologising to me. The Headmaster smiled at me, and then I knew everything was good.
Ten years later, me and the boys are still good friends. We meet up at least once a month and talk about our lives and families.
The moral of this story is speak up if you are being bullied. You never know, you might end up being friends with the person/people who bullied you, like I have.
SPEAK UP. DON'T SUFFER IN SILENCE.