To be or not to be...

Beautiful, intelligent, outgoing, strong, and overall the epitome of perfection. She is popular, no doubt about it; she accepts and understands everyone and everything. Her heart exudes purity and love. She has strength within her that one would never expect from someone with a past like hers. She has a wall of strength that can not be torn down and will never be broken down ever again while she is alive. Some think "she is way too good to be true," and it is true, she is way too good to be true. Her life was never perfect. She seemed like every average middle school girl: she was going through puberty, flirting with cute boys, trying new things and being naive. Yes, she was like every other middle school girl externally, but not internally. What isolated her from many of the middle school girls in her class were things she had experienced that no female, old or young, should ever experience.
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It was every seventh grade girl’s dream to be asked out by one of the hottest guys in high school. The very alluring freshman, Trey, was many of the middle school girl’s dream guy and he definitely caught Bea’s attention too, a wish that came true for her towards the beginning of her second year in middle school. Trey was beautiful in every way possible, with light hazel-green eyes that would make knees weak in an instant, short chocolate brown colored hair that was so soft and luscious, and a bright white smile that could light up a dark room. His personality was equivalently striking. He was easy going, sincere, sensitive, and very intelligent. Trey was perfection in the eyes of Bea and all of her girlfriends.

Reaching their second month, the connection between Trey and Bea was still going strong, but the relationship Bea had with her girlfriends was getting shaky. Her friends envied her because she had what they wanted, Trey. The girls would only hangout with Bea if Trey was present, and even during their little "friendly" get together, the girls would only be interested in talking to Trey and not Bea. Bea's presence would only be acknowledged when the girls needed Bea to leave the room so they could have Trey to themselves. Another month went by, and rumors were going around school, all of the rumors were about Bea. Graffiti, written in permanent pens and markers, covered all of the girls’ bathroom stall walls and doors. The statements written were all negative and false. "Bea's a s***....Bea's a dirty w****....Bea doesn't deserve Trey....Trey can do so much better than Bea....She gave it up when she was still in elementary, what a little tramp...she's only how old and she can't close her legs, gross!" so on and so forth, on and on the remarks painted the bathroom stalls. With each and every week coming and going, all of the rumors about Bea were becoming unbearable. Bea went to the administration, showed them the writings on the stalls and the notes. Yet, nothing was done; the only action the administration took was to excuse her from school for a week, the week before winter break. That was it.
The cold day in January when Bea returned to school, her locker was filled with notes, and "Snitching B****" was painted on her locker. She found in particular a handwritten letter in her locker, that read, "Dear Bea, If you weren't such a selfish, dumb b**** and would have enough common sense to break up with Trey already, I wouldn't have to pretend to be nice and fake to your face and hook-up with your boyfriend behind your back and I wouldn't have to tell everyone about your little "rape secret" which is probably some s*** you made up in the first place and if it were true you were probably asking to be raped. You're so sad. Hah! I can't believe I fell for all your bulls*** for so long. You probably told everyone so they can feel sorry for you, wow, how sorry can you get? Now I can imagine why guys would be so interested in you when we'd hangout, it's all because they know how easy you are! You better watch your back, because I would if I were you b****!!” The handwriting looked familiar to Bea, yet she wouldn't believe the letter had been from who she expected it was from, but she couldn't deny the fact that the culprit responsible for writing such a cruel and insensitive letter was someone who knew about her secret. The only other person who knew was her mother. Bea had never told anyone about her secret except her adoptive mother and her best friend Mariah. Mariah was the only other person who knew. Mariah was the one who wrote the letter. Mariah was the one spreading her secret around. Mariah was her best friend.
Bea was only five-years-old when it started. With her parents divorced and both deceased and no other immediate family members left but her ninety-year-old great grandfather who had Alzheimer's disease, she was left under the custody of her stepfather at the age of five. For six years he sneaked into her room in the middle of the night to "keep her company," and for six years she didn't understand why what her stepfather was doing felt so uncomfortable. She turned eleven on the first day of her first year of middle school, and as a "present" from her stepfather, he took away her innocence. For the first two months of her first year in middle school, Bea was mute, she spoke to no one. She would only speak to her best friend since elementary school, Mariah, and Jane Johnson, the school counselor. To Bea, Jane was exactly like her mother in many ways. They built a bond so strong and Bea felt comfortable opening up to Jane and releasing all the secrets she held inside. Jane was horrified and afraid for Bea's safety, after Bea told her what her stepfather had been doing to her. Bea's stepfather was arrested, convicted and locked up for good the following week. However, Bea was left without a home, a family, not even a guardian. Jane stepped up to the plate, adopted Bea and became her primary guardian, her mother, and her savior.
After a year and a half, Bea had recovered from a six-year-old nightmare, and it took her eight years to finally understand what had happened to her. For a year and a half life was going the way it was supposed to go, no more nightmares, no more reminders, no more. She had an amazing relationship with the boy of her dreams, had amazing friends, she presumably had a “perfect life”. However, within three months she lost the boy of her dreams. Bea confronted Trey about knowing of his relationship with Mariah, but he denied it. The following week he dumped Bea over a text message saying, “Bea, you’re an amazing girl, and I had so much fun with you but I think it’s time we started seeing other people. I’ve kind of been hanging around someone new a lot lately and I really like her. Please don’t get the impression that I never liked you because I did, a lot actually, it’s just I want to try dating new people. Love Trey…” Trey was dating her ex-best friend, Mariah, within the following week and her forgotten "secret" had risen to life once again. Bea felt nothing but cold, lonely, pitch black darkness surrounding her and filling her heart and soul.
All that was surrounding her was a small four walled bathroom. The bathroom door locked. She stared intensely at the mirror in front of her, tears streaming quickly down her cheeks and neck, her make-up smudged all over her face and a sharp object in the palm of her hand, with which she held securely. The bathroom sink and shower water was turned on to its fullest, running heavily through the drains. Jane pounded on the door. No response. Jane kicked open the door. Bea was on the bathroom floor, unconscious, heavily breathing, and bleeding profoundly. "Bea, Bea, Bea! Please open your eyes honey, please look at me! Momma’s here! Come on baby talk to me, look at me do something, anything to let me know you can hear me. Bea please don't do this to me baby. Please don't!" There was nothing but warm, red liquid covering the towels. No pulse to be found. Heat fading from her body. Two deep slits on her wrists were covered tightly but bleeding heavily. For three minutes she was dead. For three minutes she was gone. For three minutes.
For three months she was hospitalized. She was in a coma for two weeks. She had no memory of what had happened to her, but the scars on her wrists told her all she needed to know. "Honey, how are you feeling?" Jane asked.
"I don't feel great but I'm alive." Bea jokingly responded.
"Hah, you're funny. But 'this' isn't funny. Why couldn't you tell me what was happening, what pushed you to want hurt yourself like this?" Jane exclaimed in a worried motherly manner.
"It's nothing...I...I...it's nothing anymore okay? I'll handle it okay? I promise. I will."
Jane got the story out of Bea. Jane was disturbed to hear the administration took no action and allowed bullying to reach such a dangerous extent. Bea never returned to school, she was home schooled for the rest of her middle school year and up until her sophomore year of high school. When Bea entered her first year of high school, it was already the second semester of her sophomore year. She had returned to school, new, improved, and strong. She met new friends that related to her, because of what she had gone through. She learned to forgive but never forget all that she had been through.
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Her last day of high school has finally arrived; Graduation day. The principal steps to the podium and says, "I would like to introduce our valedictorian for the class of 2009. Miss Bea Johnson.” Bea stands up from her seat, a look of triumph, completion, and exhilaration shines on her face; it is time for her to speak.
"Thank you class of 09, and to the family and friends of this wonderful group of students. We were brought up to do great, feel great, and be great. We were brought up to learn, understand and share. We are brought together here today to do all that we were brought up to do. We did great for making it this far, we feel great to finally graduate, we will be great in whatever we want to be, we learned all that needed to be learned in school, we understood how to go around obstacles, and we share this wonderful day with all those we love. We’ve made it this far, let us go on further, we have the will power to keep on going, loving and living.”