Because of Them

Due to this being fresh in my mind, I decided to write about it. I read someone else's blog involving their experience and it brought back all the emotion of my own.

I remember them.

I was using the back stairwell by the social sciences wing. Lunch had just gotten out and I was on my after-lunch-high that most 7th graders got after eating half a yogurt, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and 2 desserts. I hardly ever took the back stairwell, no one really took it, the "cool lockers" weren't located there but on this day I was running a little late. (Carly K. had stuck a popsicle stick, with quite a bit of precision and stealth I might add, in the back pocket of Mr. H's pants...I had to stick around to watch that.)

I remember opening the doors to the stairs and seeing the group of boys who were in my gym class, but couldnt speak english, standing in a circle. I was little taken aback by this because well...they were all staring at me and speaking in Spanish...but I continued to walk towards the steps. I had my books in my left arm and I was holding down my skirt in the back with my right hand so no one would look up it. As I proceeded to the steps, one of the boys stepped in front of me to block me from the steps.

I panicked. I was 12. Im a girl. This was scary to me, so I took my hand off the back of my skirt and pushed the boy blocking me in the chest. He grabbed both my arms, causing my books to fall, and shoved me towards his friends and into a corner. I didn't fall but I started to cry silently. Tears were just streaming down my face but I couldnt utter a sound. At this point, I was surrounded by these boys and absolutely terrified. All I could do was stand there and wait.

There were 8 or 9 of them.
I couldnt talk.
I couldnt move.
I couldnt think.
I couldnt breath.

Their hands went everywhere. All over everything. I had never had anyone touch me like that in my life. They were probing my mouth with their toungues and taking turns lifting up my shirt and skirt putting their hands where ever they wanted.

God dammit I was fucking 12.

I was still a little girl who had never even had the experience of her first real kiss let alone anything else. My dreams of that were shattered.

I dont remember why they stopped. Warning bell maybe...but they left me. Standing there, shaking, and crying, with one knee high sock around my ankle and the front of my skirt twisted around to the back, they left me. Their sticky breath lingering all over my lips and their hands imprinted in my flesh and brain.

I didnt go to my class. I went to the bathroom in the music hallway and cried like a baby. Sobbing. I couldnt quite comprehend what was done to me and why it was done to me. A teacher heard me crying in the washroom and took me to the school counselor. I was so ashamed and so scared of what my mom would say.

For months I would wake up in the middle of the night shaking and crying due to this. I had never felt so weak in my life. I was mad at my brain for not working; for not allowing me to run, kick, punch, bite, scream....I was mad at myself. Why did I wear a skirt to school that day? Why did I wear lipstick? Why did I take the back stairs?

I had to face those boys every single day in school. They were still allowed to go to school there but had to be escorted by teachers at all times when outside of the classroom. When they saw me, they would just put their heads down. Day in and day out I dealt with this.

While all this was going on I found out this had happened to two of my best friends too (and another girl) and they came forward when I was forced to. The boys, through a translater, admitted what they did...to all of us.

What they did was ruin my spirit for a long, long time. That was when I became scared. Scared of other people, men especially, life...myself....everything. I dont think I have quite regained what I lost, although through time I would have had to change due to growing older. I wonder though if I would still be the same person I am today.

Im loud because Im scared of not being heard.
Im outgoing so someone will notice if Im not there.
I act tough because I want people to think I wont take their bullshit so they wont try to hurt me.


Im scared because of them.

But I am strong. Because of them.
I can laugh at myself. Because of them.
I can be proud. Because of them.