I was 11 when she looked at me with pleading eyes. That’s when I ran away. How could I ever go back to the person who caused me the most pain and hurt in my life?
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We need to go back to the start.
Lillian was my best friend. I couldn’t go to her house much, but we were inseparable in school. We first met in kindergarten, when we pretended there were fairies in the bushes during recess. As fourth-graders, we role-played as Pokémon and Frozen characters while we ran around the play-ground. We grew up together and our interests evolved in almost perfect unison.
One thing never changed though: Lillian was always so nice and caring. She was the type to notice and ask me about a bump in my head: something even the teacher hadn’t observed. She was the type to help me out of uncomfortable situations where I was put in the spotlight. Of course, I appreciated that; I was a shy kid who was so used to hiding. Thanks to her, I was just able to survive all the years of elementary school. However, I would have never imagined that everything would change when I went to middle school.
I still remember the first day of sixth grade. I was on the school bus, waiting anxiously for Lillian’s stop. We hadn’t seen each other all summer because my parents wanted to keep me quiet. I'd been suffering silently at home for almost three months, and I knew I couldn't go on any longer. But, alas, Lillian never came on the bus, and I never saw her again. Without a way to cope, I called 911 on my own parents. My mother tried to feign sorrow to the social worker, but I had had enough.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We need to go back to the start.
Lillian was my best friend. I couldn’t go to her house much, but we were inseparable in school. We first met in kindergarten, when we pretended there were fairies in the bushes during recess. As fourth-graders, we role-played as Pokémon and Frozen characters while we ran around the play-ground. We grew up together and our interests evolved in almost perfect unison.
One thing never changed though: Lillian was always so nice and caring. She was the type to notice and ask me about a bump in my head: something even the teacher hadn’t observed. She was the type to help me out of uncomfortable situations where I was put in the spotlight. Of course, I appreciated that; I was a shy kid who was so used to hiding. Thanks to her, I was just able to survive all the years of elementary school. However, I would have never imagined that everything would change when I went to middle school.
I still remember the first day of sixth grade. I was on the school bus, waiting anxiously for Lillian’s stop. We hadn’t seen each other all summer because my parents wanted to keep me quiet. I'd been suffering silently at home for almost three months, and I knew I couldn't go on any longer. But, alas, Lillian never came on the bus, and I never saw her again. Without a way to cope, I called 911 on my own parents. My mother tried to feign sorrow to the social worker, but I had had enough.
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