Thin line

WARNING: This chapter talks about bullying, violence and self-harm. Read it at your own risk.

(Please love and trust yourselves, it is going to be alright!)

This story must be told because it needs to stay as a lesson in the minds of those who will become parents one day. Due to an unimaginable turn of events, I secluded myself in my own mind and did something no teenager should ever do, no matter how desperate and lonely they feel. 

It all begun with a beautiful spring morning. It was the end of March, the last snow had melted away and nature had never been more alive. It takes about 15 minutes, walking, to arrive at the local school. 

I was and still am...hobbit sized . I used to joke that the only way I'd win in a height competition was to compete against Mary and Pippin. 

My seat, inside classroom, was in the front row, right beside the teacher's desk. That is exactly where I wanted to be for two reasons.

First reason: to avoid my colleagues as much as I possibly can.

Second reason: I felt safer near the teachers desk. It was as if they were protecting the scared, little Rain from the big bad wolves. Meaning the kids from my class that were lurking and waiting for an opportunity to attack.

The boys, in particular, were always behaving like wild animals. Trowing chairs, shouting, playing stupid games that would only get them hurt. My one and only rule back then was to try as much as I can to be invisible.

Spoiler alert, that does not work. 

That particular morning, I was nervous. Being in class with a bunch of judgemental kids was not easy. If you're not with them, you're an outcast. I was an outcast. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to fit in, but I just different.

You know the awkward, weird type of kid who just can't ever say a proper sentence or actually say his/her opinion out loud? Well, that was me. 

My parents did not let me get out of the house too often and it got worse as I grew. All I knew was that I had to go to school, study well, talk as little as possible, work to help my family and one day get married and have children. That was my life's purpose and at the frail age of 12. In my mind I had accepted this, or so I thought.

Friendships were in pairs in my class. I find it odd now but it seemed perfectly normal back then.

I ended up being friends with Mia, somehow.

Now, Mia was different from me. She was tall, had beautiful golden brown hair and loved to exercise. I believe she became a competitive runner in highschool. We are no longer friends.

The story of how I met her starts with a 5 year old me wanting to play with the boy toys in kindergarten and having a fight with one of the boys about wearing the blue police hat. 

-Give it to me! Why are you wearing it? It's for boys!

He demanded.

We pulled back and forth until I let go of the hat. I started crying. From behind me the new girl grabbed the hat out of his hand and pushed the boy down. It was epic to watch the events unfold, to say the least.

-Who says girls can't play Cops? 

The boy ran to his group, leaving me and Mia behind. We  started chatting and playing together more and more often every day from that moment on.

I have admired her ever since. Such a brave and fearless girl. She was, in a way, my role model. Years later I still cannot understand why she was so nice to me. You see, friendships were and are a mistery to me. I craved to have someone close to me though and she was there to help me grow.

The first 2 classes pass without any major events. Lunch time came and I needed to use the washroom. I don't like it but when nature calls you have to answer. Moving from my seat means also crossing the path through the back of the class, where the noisy people were.

I was nervous, but eventually exited the door without any problems. 

Because it was a small school we shared the bathroom with the teachers. There were separate stalls just for them though that students were not allowed to use. There was this unwritten rule, so to say. But I did. Many times. I was a rule breaker!

I was always afraid that someone would catch me but it was honestly a safe place where no one could have bothered me. 

Back in class, I just go and sit quietly at my desk. 

Not a moment after I sit down, I hear someone calling my name. 

In the second row stayed the smartest girl in my class. Her name was Violet. We barely talked though.

-Rain, can I borrow a crayon? I forgot mine at home.

She spoke with a bright smile on her face.

-Yeah, just a minute. 

I answered timidly.

She was mostly nice to me, but because she was friends with the bullies in my class she sometimes enjoyed seeing me get tortured. I could see it in her eyes.

I feel my way to the pencil case, while still looking at her and pulled the zipper, opening it.

I insert my hand inside, knowing the shape of my crayon, and search to grab it. 

I felt something soft, mushy. My body froze.

I turned to look.

There was a big fat worm inside my pencil case. I screamed and almost everyone started laughing. I ran a few seconds later straight to the teachers office.

I still remember my rushed heart beating out of my chest, my hiccups alongside my tears as I tried to explain to one of the teachers what happened.

I was a weak person back then, and weak people are always the ones who suffer.

The boys laughing at me was a daily thing.

I was from a poor, religious family, almost cult-like some might say. I was not allowed to go outside almost never and I had to behave a certain way to please my parents. My life was not my own. My dreams were not my own.

No! I wasn't allowed to have dreams.

After that incident the boys got a scolding and the teachers let me go home. Some days the teachers were doing that, letting me go home early, probably out of pity. 

-Rain,why are you home so early? 

My mom questioned me, while she was cooking. She was always there, in the kitchen or in the garden. Always working. 

-Ahmmm. I felt sick so the teacher let me go home.

I always lied like that. Why couldn't I tell the truth to my mom? Because I was a failure in my parents eyes if I was bullied. 

They eventually found out that some of the kids from my class were always picking on me. They looked at me like I did something worng. Like there was something wrong with me.

A month passed by after that awful day and nothing major had happened since then. That week me and Mia had a group assignment together.

I went to her house after school and spent around 3 hours with her doing the homework. We also took breaks to talk and play.

I was having fun so I forgot to look at the time. When I finally did an overwhelimg feeling overpowered me. I was in trouble for sure, so I excused myself and hurried home. 

Scared is a small word compared to what I was feeling. I was quite terrified of what my parents would say when I got home. I literally disappeared for a couple of hours without them knowing where. At that moment I was as good as dead.

Luckily, my mom was not home that day. She was in town doing grocery shopping. Unfortunately for me, my dad was at home.

I can't remember the conversation we had but I remember the belt marks that stayed on my arms for days, from his punishment. With every hit you could hear me whimper and see the silent tears falling down my cheeks. That was the moment when I realised why I put up with the bullying at schools. Because it was the same at home. 

-Where the fuck have you been? You should have just come home after school! Your sister came home alone!

My little sister was looking at me. She was different, she has a feisty personality, not like mine. I loved her because she was family but we couldn't have been any more different. 

After my father left me alone I ran upstairs to cry in peace. 

My room had a beautiful view of the mountains. I often sat by the window just to see the white peak. It was far but it was calming for me.

That day was the first day I started questioning my existence. Everything seemed like a very very horrible nightmare. Every time I was catching a glimpse of happiness I would pay for it gravely. 

While sitting by the window I see a small pair of scissors on the floor. 

Cut, cut, cut! My mind was filled with that thought. 

I hurried and picked it up. Not long ago I learned about self-harm. Well, learned is not the proper word, more like I saw in a movie how a girl did the same thing I was about to do with the scissors. 

I broke it in two parts, took one  and touched my wrist with the shaper part of the blade.

One, two ,three! It was done. It hurt me, not as much as I thought though. I looked down to see a red line on my white, innocent skin. Then blood rushes out.At the same time my tears started to fall. It was a long cut, not too deep though so after a minute or two of pressing on the wound with a napkin the blood stopped. 

Don't get me wrong, my wish was not to die but to release myself from the deplorable state I was in. Drowned in tears I climbed in my bed and cried until I fell asleep. The next day I behaved like nothing had happened. 

That's when I slowly started to pretend that everything was alright. Putting on a fake smile was better than crying. Ignoring my feelings was the only logical thing to do. Numbness was my new best friend.

My small wound stayed with me for almost a month and nobody noticed. But I was different, I was changing and I was getting better and better at pretending.