To who ever cares,

13

Summer holidays had always been my favourite, spending every day at the beach or by the pool, not having a single thing to worry about. I had never really worried about not having friends I could catch up with over the holidays.

The holidays were hot. I loved spending the day sitting in the front entrance of the house on the tiles, a good book in my hand. I read a book or two a day, whiling away each hour lost in a different reality.  I would swim for an hour or two in the morning and evening, but only when other people weren’t around. I couldn’t risk them seeing my scars.

My mum was still the only one who knew about what I was doing to myself, but I had stayed true to my word and whenever I felt the urge to cut I would go to her and she would take me out and distract me. I didn’t cut once over the summer.

I had a good time that summer. My brother and all his friends spent every day in our pool, so I got to spend time with them, they teased me and pulled pranks on me but I had not had so much fun in over a year.

Some of them were slightly suspicious they wanted to know why I wore long sleeved shirts whenever I went swimming with them, but I managed to keep it a secret from them for the entire summer.

Summer ended. Too soon it was time to go back to school. I didn’t want to go but knew I had to. I don’t remember too much from year eight. I do remember a couple of things, but if you were to ask me I wouldn’t be able to tell you who my teachers were, what netball teams I was in, or any major events that happened that year.

One of the few things I do remember was when I got beaten up. The year before they had used stones, that year they used their fists, feet and nails.

I hadn’t been having the greatest day; it was the anniversary of my grandfather’s death.  I wasn’t feeling up to being around people so I was sitting by myself at the back of a class room. Ash came and sat with me, I thought she was just being a good friend. What I didn’t realise is that she had text everyone, telling them where I was.

Anya was the next to arrive; she sat on my other side. I was trapped. I tried to get up when the others started to arrive but the A twins grabbed my arms and held me in place. I asked them what they were doing, they laughed. All of a sudden two guys grabbed my ankles pulling me down into a lying position with the A twins maintaining their hold on my arms. I couldn’t move.

Tailor threw the first kick it hit me in the ribs. I cried out in pain tears flowing from my eyes. All the people gathered around laughed. Next thing I knew they surrounded me, kicks and hits were flying at me from everywhere. I struggled trying to break free and get away. More people grabbed my arms and legs holding me down. They kept at the assault, not relenting in any way. I stopped crying, stopped making any noise, just waiting for it to be over.

After a few more minutes they spat at me and left me lying in the dirt.

I couldn’t move. I was broken. When I heard the bell ring signalling the start of lunch I knew I had to get myself up. I dragged myself over to a tree pulling myself to my feet. I didn’t look down at my body, not wanting to see what they had done. I walked to where my brother was playing football with his friends. When I reached him I couldn’t hold it in any longer and broke down, collapsing back on the ground. I could hear all of the boys surrounding me, but my vision was gone and their voices were slowly fading away.

I woke up in hospital, covered in bandages. Every single place on my body hurt. I was in hospital for three months, not just for the physical damage but the mental as well. I had 4 broken ribs, a fractured femur, a dislocated shoulder, my ankles and wrists were black with bruises and my face was swollen to the point where I couldn’t open my eyes.

I guess it makes sense why I don’t remember much about that year.

Were you part of the group who hurt me?

Yours insincerely,

Me