Challenge Day 08: Someone who has made your life hell, or treated you like shit
I think if this question were put to damn near anyone on our little green and blue globe, they’d have a list of names on the tips of their tongues. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. On that note, I’m really no different than the average Joe – or Jane, as it were. I have my list of past offenders, and every now and then I add a new name or two to the directory; there’s an employee at my local Walmart by the name of Patty – for example – who recently made my brain bleed with her amazing stupidity and excessive rudeness; though a lot of them are only temporary fixtures who eventually get entirely forgotten.
While I could now choose from any of many on my personal list – wrongdoers great and minor – for some reason one name popped instantly to mind when I read the prompt; Roxanne
Bro… er Green (I guess she should have an alias too).
I have not seen Roxanne since I was eleven or twelve years old – haven’t thought of her at all in ages – so I’m not sure why she was the first to come to mind now. I am curious to see where this goes, however, and so I’ll just roll with it.
Roxanne Green was my elementary school bully. She was only a year or two older but she had a face, I recall, that was somewhat resemblant to that of a haggard old man’s. She had a curly mop of wiry, dark brown hair that always reminded me a little of a brillo pad, and these cruel, beady little black eyes (I don’t know if they were actually black or if my mind is inventing details to fill in the gaps left by time) that had an almost piggish quality about them. She was easily mistaken for a boy at even the slightest distance, and she was – as most bullies are – mean.
This girl tormented the hell out of me nearly every day for the better part of the fifth grade. During the lunch hour she’d seek me out just to hassle me, and after school I had the misfortune of sharing a travel route home with her, so she always had plenty of opportunity to poke, push, punch, pinch, trip, tease and generally torture me.
Because of how my family is (not referring here to just parents, but my very large family of cousins, aunts, uncles and the sort) kids growing up in my clan usually didn’t have to worry too much about tormentors that didn’t share the bloodline. In my hometown, my DNA goes back (literally) to the founding fathers and a good 30% of them (throughout the generations) have been well known scrappers, low level drug dealers and generally, all around thugs. As I got older I learned to loathe this about my kin, but as a kid the gene pool did offer certain advantages; number 1: we didn’t get bullied! So imagine my dismay when my mother shoved me into the only school in town not spilling over with my relations. Imagine next my even greater dismay when I somehow managed to land myself a bully!
Now, being as that I went to school in a time before kids started habitually shooting up their classmates over the trauma caused by bullying, as a rule, we didn’t tend to talk about such things. Back in my day (now I feel really old) kids just dealt with it in their own quiet way. Of course, back then it seemed like bullies were a lot less inventive. At any rate, it never occurred to me to tell anyone about my bully, and it certainly never occurred to me to act out in violence.
Roxanne Green was – for a time – the bane of my existence. I ate, slept and breathed thoughts of her for the greater part of a year, right up until the day she made one tiny – fateful – mistake. One afternoon – perhaps bored with my noncommittal responses to her constant taunting – she turned her beady little, bullying gaze towards my little sister. Often in my life (particularly in my young life) I have only found my own strength when faced with someone else’s well being – most often with my siblings – and this was one of those moments. The second that Roxanne turned her attention on my sister I turned into a wild thing. I threw myself at the poor girl; scrawny arms flailing, feet kicking, claws clawing, teeth chomping… the works. I toppled her over and kept pulling on her brillo pad of a hairdo until clumps of the frizzy mess littered the alleyway. The poor girl was shrieking and crying so loud that the old lady in the nearest house came rushing – if hobbling with a walker can be called rushing – to her defence.
The sweet little old lady was coming down the alley hollering something like, “You trouble making little whippersnappers stop that this instant!” (I have no actual recollection of what she hollered at us that afternoon, but my brain finds this amusing so I’ll roll with it).
As the woman’s voice reached into the bowels of my brain, I suddenly stopped yanking on the hair, looked up with eyes as big as saucers, glanced at my little sister – who’s eyes were even bigger and expression even more surprised than my own – glanced back into the horrified eyes of my one-time bully, and realised for the first time what I’d just done. With the little old lady still hobble-rushing towards us – still about sixty or so feet away – I leapt up, grabbed my sister by the hand and dragged her in a stumble-run all the way home.
The brillo-headed, piggy-eyed older girl never picked on me again after that day – in fact, I think she went out of her way to avoid me, since we never walked home the same route again – but for a time, Roxanne Green treated me like shit, and generally made my life a living hell.
This entry was posted on March 8, 2012 by ~Robin~. It was filed under 30 Day Blog Challenge and was tagged with 30 day blog challenge, blog challenge, brillo pad, bully, bullying, elementary school, grudge, list, Online Writing, revenge, Self-esteem, standing up, Student, Violence and Abuse, Walmart, Writing, wrongdoer, Youth.