Everybody has their own story. This is mine.
You’d think the abuse would stay at school, but it didn’t. Somehow their words had followed me home, as they blew up my inboxes with their words. Talissa: You’re such a dumb b****. And you’re a little skank too. You’re so f*ing fat, you look like a whale. Little pu**y, you wouldn’t even fight her. You better grow some balls and fight back you little s***. Jeanette: Yeah, you’re such a slut. Why don’t you just kill yourself? Nobody even wants you here. You’ll probably give us an STD you dirty skank. My inbox was filled with messages like these. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I could do. I wanted to tell somebody, anybody. But who would listen? I finally gained the courage to tell my mom. I slowly walked up to her crying and showed her the computer screen. She was quiet for a minute assessing the situation, silently reading the messages. She finally said, “Who sent you this?” I silently shook my head be she grabbed me. “Who did this to you? Tell me now.” I looked at the floor, to ashamed to show my face. “Some girls from school.” “Some girls from school? Are they in your class?” She looked at me. When she received no reply she asked again, “Are they in your class? What are their names?” I looked down. I couldn’t answer her. They’d find out and everyone would hate me for it. A tear rolled down my cheek. “Sweetie, just tell me. I want to help you. I can make this go away.” She said holding me. I sobbed, “You can’t. This won’t go away.” She slowly stroked my hair, comforting me. “I promise I will do whatever I can. Just tell me their names.” I looked up and told her. “Talissa and Jeanette?” she asked. “Yeah. They’re in all my classes. I’m going to call your counselor.” She said as she got up. “No you can’t!” I stared at her with fear in my eyes. If they got in trouble my pain would only greaten. “And why not?” my mother asked. “They’ll know it was me. They’re going to get me. They’ll hurt me. Everyone will know it was me and I’ll be known as a snitch for the rest of my life.” “I’m not going to let them hurt you again. This is the only way.” She gave me a hug. “Did I ever tell you the story of when I was bullied?” she asked. I looked up at her shocked. “No. You were bullied too?” “Yeah. These girls didn’t like me very much. So they wrote a letter saying horrible things about me, calling me names, and passed it around the whole class. They made it into a petition and everyone signed it. Then they passed it to me. I was devastated.” She smiled weakly. “What did you do?” I asked hopeful. “I told my mom of course. She was pissed off. She sent a copy of a letter to the parents of every student who signed it and made sure they were punished.” I stared at her with wide eyes. “But mom, it was different back then. And grandma is really scary.” “That may be, but I just don’t want anyone to mess with you, okay?” “Okay.” She got up and called the counselor. “He’s going to call you in his office tomorrow so don’t be afraid, okay? I sent him copies of the messages as proof.” I looked at her afraid. I had so many doubts and fears rushing through my mind. I was scared, but in a way relieved.