I still remember those awful days from my childhood in Boston, MA. I was beaten up every single day, sometimes twice. My clothes would be ripped and dirty from being shoved into the ground on the way to school. My lunch would be taken from as was my milk money. These kids were considerably older than I. I was eight and they were teenagers. When they got to be old enough to drive, they would drive the van up onto the sidewalk. I thought that I was going to die. They would follow me to school, laughing and joking amongst themselves. I had always been popular in the other house. Somehow, I became an outcast when we moved to a new neighborhood. My parents worked days, so they were not aware of what was happening. Until the school open house. My mother went with me. The teachers all said that I was not doing well that I wasn't up to my potential and that my "friends" were strange. They were not my friends. I did not enjoy being beaten, run over by cars, having their dogs sicced on me. Finally, after a particular brutal beating, my teacher called my mother, because, I was such a mess and could not stop crying. The only thing that kept my teeth in mouth that day was my braces. They had bashed my face into a stone wall. We ultimately sued the family. My tormentors lied to the judge. They got off with a slap on the wrist. Years later, in the lobby of my employer, one of the "brat pack" came up to me and wanted to apologize for his actions. I have to say, I could not accept his apology. I told him to leave and never heard from him again. I'm still angry about that whole time frame of 6 years of hell. I am saddened that it still happens. I am glad however that I am strong enough now to not tolerate bullying by anyone and have stood up for some of my young neighbors who are being bullied.
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