~ The Reaping – Part Three ~

For three months, I endured the whispers, sneers, threats, and rough treatment.

The parallels I drew between Aubrey’s and my ordeals were interesting. Aubrey was physically abused by girls. They pushed her around, slapped her, and sneered and jeered at her. They called her names to her face. She never fought back.

I was beaten up by boys. I could name a few of them because I saw them. It was hard not to see Toliver coming for me. He was huge, six feet, broad shoulders, thin waist, and long legs. All six feet of him would slam into me from behind or from my blind side. I’d go crashing into a wall, the corner of a building, and once slid down the last few stairs and slammed into the glass front of the building we went to school in. Toliver was hard to miss. The reason I knew Demetri was there was because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He liked to call all females bitch. As the door came slamming into me, I’d hear, “find your own man, bitch!” Demetri was the only one who ran from me when he saw me coming. He was a bully. Well, all of them were, but he was the only one who wouldn’t stand toe to toe with me.

The major difference between Aubrey and me was, I’d fight back if I could. I didn’t just let anyone hit me without ramifications. I never told, but I fought them. I came home with bruises and scratches on me on the weekends, and my mother would question me. For a while, I got away with, I ran into this or hit myself on that.

The last time, though, Toliver went too far in the wrestling techniques he used to punish me for whatever transgression I’d been accused of committing. No, I still hadn’t known what I was being abused for. All I knew was that I had to survive it the only way I knew how. The daily thought in my mind was the maxim, “this too shall pass.” Aubrey had cursed me with her adage, and now, I’d use mine to survive.

Survival and peace were my two daily prayers during the week while living at CSFB. I was lucky. I got a reprieve on the weekends.

This time, though, I ended up in the infirmary with bruises and cuts all up and down my right side. I was alone that day on my way to Maestro Hall, the music building where I took weekly voice lessons. I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me. I was reading the newest book Mom bought me. It was an interesting take on the history of World War II. I just wanted to finish the last few paragraphs on my way over to Maestro Hall. I was turning the page when from out of nowhere, I felt a hard shove in my left rib and my center of gravity abruptly changed. I went flying in one direction and my book and back pack went in another. I didn’t see where they landed, but I felt every jarring pain of my own landing. I think my head hit a pole, I saw dark eyes, blowing dark brown curls, those broad shoulders that had been shoving into me for weeks, and the light of the blue sky winked out. The next thing I knew, I was in the infirmary, and I could hear Mom yelling at someone.

“I want to know who did this?” I heard my mother’s angry voice.

“Mom?” I was confused. How in the hell did Mom get here, and why was she hollering like a banshee?

“Princess,” my mother said, her focus switching to me.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why are you yelling.”

“Who did this to you?”

A part of me wanted to lie again. I didn’t want anyone to know about the boys hurting me and the girls talking about me, but I knew that tone. My mother would never let me get away with a lie this time. No one would. Toliver had gone too far. I’d seen him standing over me in that last moment. His dark eyes seeming to dare me to get up, and his curly brown hair blowing in the wind. I supposed he thought I wouldn’t tell this time, but I had no choice. Everyone knew I didn’t end up knocked out with bruised ribs on my own. This time he’d taken the bullying too far. I was more pissed that I hadn’t had a chance, not even once to fight back before it came to this.

“Toliver Ruskin,” I murmured.

I knew that name would mean nothing to my mother, but it would at school. The infirmary served both the deaf and blind schools, so the nurses would probably know who I was talking about, but it was the principles of the blind school that would become involved. I wondered if this would make things worse for me at school.

“So, you’ve been lying to me about the scratches and bruises you’ve been coming home with for the last couple months?” Mom was pissed, and I guessed I didn’t blame her, but I wanted to scream at her not to go making things worse for me.

I just nodded and kept my thoughts about it all to myself. Who knew, maybe it’d get better. Could it get any worse than ending up in the infirmary with Mom here? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

Thank you for joining me this week for the next installment of Cassie’s story. Please let me know what you think in the comments and how you feel about this section of the story. So often, bullying ends in something sad, scary, harmful, and even tragic. I hope you’ve enjoyed the series so far. I look forward to sharing the next installment with you next week.

Till next we meet, stay well & keep creating!

CSA

E-mail: Nell@letsgetpublished.com

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