I remember when I was in kindergarten there was a girl, her name was Sydney. She would pinch, poke, and kick me. I don’t know why, I never figured out why she targeted me as her victim, but as I think about all that she did to me, I guess I’m glad it was me because that meant it wasn't anyone else. No one else was being hurt.

I recall clearly that day, my mother had french braided my hair in two pigtails and I was wearing a pink dress with T-shirt sleeves. There were small orange, white, and lavender flowers randomly scattered on the fabric of the dress.

The kindergarten kids classroom bathroom doors didn't lock for safety reasons. Those dreaded doors seemed to smirk and laugh at my fear as if I were a fool. I always feared, and still do, going to the bathroom in a bathroom without being able to lock, but that day I really, really had to go. I was just starting to pull my dress up when Sydney opened the door revealing a grin, much like the Cheshire cat’s, but much more sinister.

Panic flooded throughout my body as I shot my hand out to grab the door, I grabbed the side of the door slightly below the door jam instead of the door knob, little did I know that Sydney, and her devilish ways, would yank the door shut on my fingers with a sickening CRUNCH. I thought I would die of embarrassment. I never did end up going to the bathroom. For my mom, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. She had had enough of me coming home crying about the other little girl that bullied me. She had had enough of my failure to tell the teacher because I had been scared that she would hurt me worse. When my mom was called by the school, and notified about the incident, she immediately left her work, drove straight over, and stormed into the school demanding to see the principle. Whilst discussing the issue with the principal she explained in a calm and icy tone, 

“If you and your staff are unable to protect my daughter, then she will protect herself. Each act of violence towards Riley will be met with equal or greater violence.”

My mother was dead serious. The principal quickly recognized that action needed to be taken. Sydney was forced to apologize to me, and was ultimately kicked out of the schools in the district.
As I write this, I am realizing that I forgive her. I have forgiven Sydney. My bully, my tormentor. I have forgiven her because if she hadn't hurt me, if she hadn't used me as her verbal punching bag, then I would have never become who I am today. She helped me, and I mentally thank her for that. She helped me in the process of creating me.

I came out of that situation stronger than I had been before. I am seeing now that it helped me grow tougher skin. That experience was the first lesson of many to come  that taught me to protect my feelings as well as helping me somewhat grow out of my naivete. I always make sure to check my attitude towards others, and compare it as if we were in reverse roles, and I ask myself, “Would I like someone telling me this?”  I try to be as understanding as possible, as well as caring and kind, because I know I would never ever want someone to feel as horrible as I did. I would never wish for someone to feel trapped and panicked in such a situation they felt was inescapable.