Letters to the Editor...
Memories of being beaten up..............
With no worries or fears,
I walk out of school,
To the end of the street,
Alone......what a fool.
My cousin turns the corner in a car with
Then a girl shouts out, "Do you remember
By the look on her face
I think Is she mad?
I look at her face with no recollection
Then her voice calls me back
With the terrifying words,
"You'll remember me by this...."
I am lost for words.
She punches me first, I try to duck,
Then I tell her my brothers a copper,
To try and stop her from throwing another,
I take another blow to the face,
My head goes forward,
She grabs my hair and pulls me to the
I no longer feel the pain as I hit the cold
She still has hold of my hair,
And punches me in the face without a care.
Then she lifts my upper body,
Through the strength of the hair she's
I feel her bring my head forward,
Then she takes it back,
I know what's going to come as I start to
She hits my head against the pavement,
I open my eyes,
Then as she lifts my head,
The sole of her foot meets my eyes.
My nose is going is what I think,
As she stamps on my face,
My heart begins to race,
I am frozen and only manage to shiver and
She punches me now in the face and the head,
I begin to wonder does she want me dead?
Then she lifts my body via the hairs on my
I think to myself, [please God I don't want
to be dead.
I heard a boy shout, "Keep going, keep
A crowd has now built,
The blood is now flowing.
I look at the crowd and wonder why,
They are all there staring....
No one can look me in the eye.
I feel another blow to the side of the head,
She lets go of her grasp to my hair,
Enabling me to be set free, or so I thought,
I lie on the floor,
Again, she stamps on me....
When will this end?
Will it end???
She shouts at me, "You remember me? You
She says her name, I remember her now,
I lie on the floor and wonder when will she
stamp on me, hit me or punch me again?
I lay on the ground,
In a daze I looked round,
I hear the gasps of horror from a now big
I can feel my face swell,
I put my hand to my face,
Blood on my hands....
I silently ask....why? Why my face?
I try to get up but fall back to the floor,
Then a lady helps me up,
I think, "Please don't let me suffer any
I get to my feet,
A friend comes to me,
Then two teachers appear,
They just look at me.
I thank the lady,
Then see my younger cousin,
I tell her I'm okay,
But by the look on her face, I wonder....
"Does the pain in my eyes give it away?"
I walk into school,
Into the first aid room,
They talk about my injuries,
They treat them and ask do I know why it
I genuinely reply, "I haven't a clue."
My parents arrive, the police shortly after
As she takes a statement,
They all ask why too....
A visit to A&E,
Amid x-rays and gasps,
Then back in the car and on we go....
They tell me its over now,
No more beatings to go....
After a trip to my aunts,
We all arrive home,
We await for the police,
I just want them to go.
As I tell the story to the police again,
I feel every blow,
And feel the pain and the beating for the
second time that day,
As I relive the horror I'd faced that day.
I wake next day,
The memories of yesterday too hard to
Looking in a mirror....I wonder....will I
Pictures are taken,
messages are sent,
Phone calls are made,
But will the memories EVER fade?
I don't want pity,
I haven't cried yet,
And without the pity,
The whole thing may be easier to forget.
I close my eyes and try to sleep,
But the horrors of that Wednesday,
Come back like an action reply, I guess
their memories I'll have to keep,
Take pills the doc says, family and friends
agree with him too,
But they just fade the nightmares,
Doc you got anything for the memories too?
I return to school,
I get told I'm brave,
I wish they wouldn't say it,
If I had the choice I'd have never have
gone through it.
It's Saturday now,
She's still out there free,
thinking she got away with beating me.
I'll never let it go,
If I could tell her now I would,
I'd give her a good beating too....
taking the law into your own hands IS wrong,
But if I don't she could do it to you....
But this time you may not be so lucky....
Now remind me....which is justice....give
me a clue!
Gemma Lousie Lang, South Wales, UK, Aged 17
© G L Lang
On 16th October 2002, I was vicously
attacked by a girl and nine boys - there
was no motive just simple cruelkty. It
happened just outside school and being the
leader of an anti bullying campaign and
telling new first formers about our
campaign and how our school doesn't accept
bullying etc was simply terrible as many of
them witnessed myself being beaten up
before their very eyes. I am 17 years old
in my final year of school sitting four a
levels ready for medical school. I am
sending this poem in a way of explaining to
those who havn't suffered such an
experience the feelings you feel after such
an incident. I was adviced to do it a few
days ago after speaking with victim support
and hope you find it suitable.
This month's letters:
Grading, 10/29/02, by Kevin Van Winkle.
Beware STRS "disability protection", 10/26/02, by Susan.
Being attacked, 10/25/02, by Gemma.
Children's Mental Health, 10/23/02, by Christine E. Walker, Editor.
Passport abuse, 10/22/02, by Joseph.
Children's Internet Guide, 10/07/02, by Deanna Phillips.