Story: When A Bully Cries (chapter 3)

Authors: coures

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Chapter 3

Title: Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

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What do you do when a long time bully who tortures you, insults you, and sexually harass you from the time you met at seven years of age till your eighteenth year cries in front of you?

Answer.

I still have no idea.

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Through my kindergarten days, I spent much of my time only trying to have fun. Playing with the toys, the indoor playground, listening to stories, and stuff. I didn't really remember much but I think I had met one or two kids. We stayed with each other like friends, though we were mostly just playmates and not really friends because we only play to have fun. They don't bother me when I like to play alone and I don't bother them if they want to play alone.

In first grade, I didn't have any friends.

It was my first day at school and I didn't care much if anyone liked me or not. The school that I went in wasn't like any other public schools. It was a lot bigger. Actually it was an elementary school and a high school separated by two buildings. The school had four buildings: The first building was for the elementary department, which was two stories tall, and the first and second story had about eight rooms. The first floor had two rooms for each first to third graders and a large room for the cafeteria. The extra room was for the vice principal's who was in charge of the elementary department. The second floor had the same rooms for the fourth to sixth graders but the two extra rooms was used as the teacher's lounge, guidance councilor's office, as well as the infirmary.

The second building was for the high school department, but it was a much larger building compared to the first one. It was quite a ways from the first building being separated by two other buildings in the middle which was the library and the gym. The second building had about nine rooms on the first floor. The rooms were quite scrambled depending on grade and subjects taken but the cafeteria was still on the first floor. It was the same for the second floor, but the additional room where the teacher's lounge was supposed to be was given to other additional subjects that were taught there. The second building had a third story for the teacher's lounge, the infirmary, as well as the guidance councilor's and principal's office.

The other two buildings were the library and the gym. The library, which was between the elementary school and the gym, was a tad smaller than the first building, but still quite large. The gym, which was between the library and the high school, was actually two buildings stuck together into one. The building was then divided in two, which was the basketball court and a swimming pool separated by a concrete wall. It didn't bother anyone that the gym was so close to the library, because there weren't much noise coming out of the gym. Add to that that the library was air conditioned and the windows were always shut therefore not even the sounds of birds outside were heard.

They were trying to make a football field, or was it a soccer field, on the left side of the gym/swimming pool to the high school. I don't know where a public school could get a budget to make these, but nobody really cared much.

It was a big school I tell you and when the school is big so is the population of students who come here. From the looks of all the students going through the doors, it was definitely true.

People were everywhere.

From the hallway, students were already scrambling about. A lot were talking with friends, even getting to know some that are new. Others were being as energetic as to run in the hall; not really caring if they got shouted at when they were caught.

I was seven at that time. I didn't want anymore friends. I just wanted to be alone; trying to figure out a way to entertain myself in this boring world. Being alone doesn't help much with that, but I just don't like it when I'm with someone. It's more of my listening skills' fault really. I don't listen much to what people talk about and because of that I wouldn't know how to respond to them. If someone ever comes near me and maybe talk about a funny joke or some latest fab, it could end only up in one situation. The situation with me just standing there staring at the other person in confusion and in comes the awkward scene. I don't like it when the awkward part happens.

Do you get it? Don't try to understand if you don't.

Some kids tried to be friends with me in spite of that, but I always just stare at them until they start to freak out and run away. Sometimes I really wonder why they bothered to try when they can't even stand their ground. After some time nobody approached me. I never liked school much. Even though I tried to insist my mother to just stay at home and be home schooled, she ignored me.

She never acknowledged me for a month after that stunt I did with my hair. She was fine with me wearing boy’s clothes and being an introvert, but cutting that hair of mine was really a shock for her. After that, she only took me to the park when she felt like it. I sometimes sneak out of course, but only because I like to play on the neighborhood playground. Most of the time I go to the park by myself, it was farther than the playground by eight blocks. It was worth it though, 'cause I like it when I just laid there, on the grass, looking at the trees sway because of the wind.

One or two persons would sometime check if I was fine, I'd just stare at them. As I always did, I didn't care much as to what they thought. My life wasn't their business. They just walk away if I stare at them that much, but when they don't and try to touch me instead I'd just get up and find another place to lie down.

Getting back to first grade.

Most of the times or better yet always when I go to school, I'd just look at the teacher and nobody else. Though I only look at her through the obligation that I have to learn. But the only thing that I hear throughout her lessons were just gibberish. I didn't really understand what she says. I would try to make out some sort of meaning through all that jabbering, not that I didn't already know all that she's teaching us. I already easily memorized lessons just by reading books.

I'd just look at any book for some minutes and I'd have it in my head. The only setback to this talent of mine is sometimes I'd also forget everything if I didn't have much interest in it. Anyone wouldn't really like that, especially me.

Why?

Because I don't have many interest on anything other than keeping myself alive. It's really annoying. Even now it's really effective. I get bored at something and 'poof' I forget it. The only difference in the present is I'm more forgetful of names than faces.

I never really told anyone of this talent of mine. My teacher noticed though. I knew because she made more time for me. Or maybe she just felt sorry for me because I always worked alone. I didn't really mind, it's not like she was always into my personal space. She respects my privacy and knows when to leave me be. Sometimes I like it when she approaches me and talk to me with that gentle voice. Even though I couldn't make up what she said much when she teaches on class, I was starting to look at her more.

Her name was Kathy Mitchell. She was one of the teachers here at my school. She had that motherish look. She doesn't look a bit like my mother though. She was much prettier. She was young, probably in her late twenties and slender like a goddess. She had long brownish hair like the one I had, but with little wisps of blonde hair like highlights. Not only was her hair that color, her eyes were the same. Dark brown eyes with golden flecks. They were sometimes covered with those gold rimmed glasses but that only accentuated to her appearance. Not only was she great in the outside, she was great in the inside too. She was kind to all of us. Patient with teaching other kids like calmly answering all their impending questions about subjects they couldn't understand. And occasionally stern with bratty kids and delinquents. She divided herself with all of us equally.

I was really starting to like her and I didn't stop myself, thinking that it was normal. I continued to watch her. Trying to participate more in her lessons and asking more questions than others. Trying to make mistakes so she could correct them for me. I didn't notice the unusual flush that always appears every time she looks at me. I didn't notice the unusual beat of my heart – which was already like the continuous strike of thunder through my ears - when she was close to me. And the most important thing that I didn't notice was:

The unusual way that I didn't notice I was in love with her.

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