Only trust thyself, and another shall not betray thee. –William Penn
I don’t know when Aaron and his friends started hitting me. Sometimes they would leave pinkish marks on my skin where they struck me. Sometimes there would be no trace. Sometimes I struck back, far more gently. Sometimes I looked away and shrugged.
Aaron and his friends Hunter, Lewis, and Jay made a game out of stealing my glasses. They would find them, take them, and pitch them far away, then laugh while I tried to find them desperately. They dumped my colored pencils in the grass and soaked my towel from time to time. My favorite pair of goggles went missing and I told my mom I had lost them.
There is one event, however, that stuck in my mind like a dagger for years afterward.
It started with Hunter.
“You know, I could beat you up if I wanted to. No one would notice. No one could care.”
My voice responded before my mind caught up. “No, you couldn’t.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured to the other boys. They fanned out, surrounding me. A couple of girls passing by glanced our way and quickened their pace.
Aaron said, “Sable,” and I glanced toward him. Hunter shoved me so fast I almost fell, and I staggered. The next time he tried I put my arms up to stop him but he grabbed my arms and pushed. Terror made my heart pound. I fought back. We were almost wrestling, him trying to get me on the ground.
Terror turned to panic and I shoved back as hard as I could. He barely flinched, but his grin told me something was very, very wrong.
“Sable, you beast.” He laughed and showed me his inner arm. “You cut me.”
“What?” I asked, voice shaking. I could see a mark on his arm, a scab.
“You win,” he said, shrugging, and he and his friends backed off.
I stood there for awhile, arms crossed. My eyes began to sting, and I bit my thumb. The pain distracted me enough that I did not cry, did not even make a sound. I decided I would talk to one of the adults, but for the moment I just stood there alone.
They came back with a coach in tow, and because I was still just standing there trying not to cry, it was easy to find me.
“Sable,” the coach said. “I hope you know your behavior is unacceptable. If it continues, I will speak to your parents, and you might be removed from this team.”
I stared at her.
Hunter stood behind her and waved his arm. A thin line of blood was on it.
Aaron wouldn’t look at me.
“Hunter attacked me,” I said in a small voice.
“Is that true?” the coach asked the boys.
“Do you really think one girl attacked four boys?” I asked. My eyes hurt.
The coach glared at me. “It’s the word of four kids against one. You should have considered that before picking a fight. Now don’t let me see you ever pull something like this again.”
She walked off, and the boys made faces at me before sidling off themselves. My heart sank and the tears finally came. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.
That was the turning point. The moment I stopped trusting adults. The moment I started fearing people.
At first, I hated them with an intense hatred I would never feel again in my life. But after swim team, after the objects of my hatred were no longer in sight, all of that hatred shifted and turned inward. And that was when the voices started. And my fantasy world. All at once.
Swim team was the turning point before I began to turn into what I am now, a schizophrenic wreck. The bullying, but most of all, the ambush.
Post 24 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.
The Queer Schizophrenic 