I remember his face perfectly.
He used to look down at me with that nasty sneer. I would look up, tears streaming down my face. Humiliation swallowed my being, heat rose to my face. I remember his words. They hit me like daggers slicing my skin.
Gay ugly fat.
I couldn’t even defend myself. The older boy tormented me, making my life a living hell. Whether it was physical or emotional abuse, he would always find a way to get into my head. He made me feel worthless. I feared going to school. I didn’t want to see my bully, to run into him and give him an opportunity to call me names or push me to the ground when nobody was around. Every time our eyes met, I would start to tremble. My body shook and my breathing became ragged as I felt him approach me from behind. I would feel his hot breath on my neck as he whispered into my ear.
“Everybody hates you. You are worthless. Gay little boy.”

I wasn’t gay. The other kids thought I was. I was weak and scared. My only friend was a girl. I hated sports. I wasn’t the most normal boy, but I didn’t care. I felt comfortable. My bully didn’t accept me. He did so many things to me. I never told an adult. He would see my walking down the halls, hurrying to class, and he would stop me. I was only a sixth grader. He was in the eighth grade. He towered over me and would burp in my face. He spit on my new shoes my parents had struggled to buy for me. I held my binder and homework in my arms. He would slap those to the ground too, kicking them into the mud. I sat there and I cried. I was late for class.

The last time he bullied me was the last day of school. He was going to high school and I was going into seventh grade. I was so happy because he wouldn’t be at the same school. That day, our school gave awards for the students who had shown academic achievements. I had gotten high honor roll. The whole school had gathered in our gym for the assembly. The principle called my name and I walked to the stage. That’s when I heard the laughing. I turned around to face the crowd. I didn’t know what they were laughing at, but I was sure it was me. Then, the bully who had tormented and teased me, who had stripped me of my self-esteem, stood up.

‘Gay! Gay kid!” He yelled. The other children laughed and laughed, pointing at me. I ran from the auditorium and into the bathroom nearest to me. I slammed the bathroom stall closed and sat on the toilet. I cried and cried. Unable to stop myself, I threw up my lunch. My face was sweaty and I kept replaying all the terrible moments of humiliation I had lived. I wiped my face and went to the sink.

“Calm down. Calm,” I said aloud. Once I was okay, I went outside. All the students had gone to class, but none of the teacher had come to get me. I got my backpack from the gym and walked to class. The halls were empty and cold. I still had vomit on my sweater. I didn’t care. I opened the door to my class, but instead of seeing my classmates, I saw my bully. He sat on a chair. He looked at me. My eyes widened. He looked at the floor. The door I had just come through opened, and through it walked the principal and my science teacher. They greeted me. They told me to sit. I asked where. The teacher pointed at a seat. The seat next to the other boy. My bully. I slowly sat down, and looked at the adults. They asked me to write a letter on how I felt. Everyone watched me as I wrote. When I was done, my teacher said to read it. I read out loud. I had written about the humiliation and fear my bully had put me through. All the times I felt worthless and dirty. How he had made me fear school. The pain he had put me through. Then, when I was done, the older boy got on his knees. He cried and begged me to forgive him. I didn’t know what to say. He seemed genuinely sorry and I never thought he would cry and apologize in front of me. I said to him that it was alright, even though that wasn’t completely true. After that day, I never saw him again. I can say that I am glad he’s gone. I sometimes wonder what happened to him. Even though he cracked me open and ripped me apart, he taught me something. All those times that he deprived me from my happiness, I thought that it was horrible. I couldn’t let this happen to others. I stand up for other kids that are being bullied. I don’t want to see what happened to me happen to others. I learned to be free, to be brave, and to be strong.