The boy’s attention shifts to her arm, where he notices scarlet, horizontal lines resting on her delicate skin. In hopes of impressing fellow students, a clichéd tormentor would be quick to spread the news about the girl who slits her wrists--but this boy was different.
     

 Taking her aside, he does not waste any time embellishing the conversation with a stereotypical lecture and emotional quotes. He simply asks, “Are you okay?”
       

She acts oblivious, but the boy knows the pain she inflicts on herself is fueled by a separate pain buried on the inside.
       

The boy, gentle and compassionate, does not prod her with questions of “Why?” or statements of “Tell me.” He simply accompanies her for the duration of the lunch period.
     

 The bell rings, signalling students to walk to their next class. But before the girl rises from her seat, the boy takes her hand and tells her “Everything is going to get better,” and she talks to him any time she needs or wants.
       

That day the girl learned from (what would be) her life-long best friend. She learned to stop harming herself and she learned how to start healing.
       

Bullying has evolved into many different forms of cruel behavior spread like a virus through society. While most of the world’s attention is focused on the bullying of others, the bullying inflicted on one’s self has been extensively overlooked.
       

My high school has not only taught its students to abandon their positions as bystanders, but more importantly, to employ themselves in the ring of support created by the administration, staff, and scholarly counterparts.

Bullying: started by others, stopped by you.