Mr. Lynch arranged most of the desks in a circle with a few partnered in the middle.
He decided that Jacob and I needed to sit together.
So instead of fielding his constant barrage of verbal assaults when I had to, he was able to deliver them all day long.
One day we came in from recess, and Mr. Lynch wasn't there. So, as usual, Jacob used this to his advantage and to say something nasty, which I countered.
"That's it, I've had enough of this!" He screamed.
He marched up to Mr. Lynch's desk, grabbed the stapler and pressed it to my temple.
"How would you like a staple in your head?"
My classmates laughed. "Do it!" They cheered.
I laughed and just sat there. I couldn't cry. I'd already got in trouble for that.
Someone shouted. "The teacher's coming."
He put the stapler down, and I can't remember if I told or if another classmate did, but this time he was sent to the office.
A day or two later, the principal pulled me aside at lunch. He asked me about what happened and if I was afraid.
"No," I said. "My brother does stuff like that to me all the time at home."
He nodded his head. "Okay, go to lunch."
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
