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Voice of Autism

15 yr olds story of his bullying
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Written by a 15 yr old young man on March 2008

It feels as I have no more happiness; the darkness of life creeps over me. my world full of joy, love and light all of sudden crashes. It’s replaced by hate, anger and darkness. My pride completely gone, I feel as I want to cry at all times. But I hold it in, thinking I can beat this depression, I can do this. But yet I feel so week, I don’t sleep and when I do I’ up till all hours of the night. I feel as my world has just flipped up-side down. And why? Ha, cause of I got in one stupid fight, and I got beat down. But the reasoning behind it, the reasoning for not running. So I won’t put my family in danger, the two I have here. The only two I consider family. But yet how dose this fight start? How dose my honor be crushed and pride stolen? Easley done, the rumors of a high school are always brutal, but who knew that they’d lead to the beating of my life. Apparently a sudden call John told the attacker (Jim) that I was going to beat his a**, but yet I all I said to my friend Bill (Which Jim chased him to my house on the 17th of March, and threatened to fight him) that if he was going to continue to start junk with me (Which I know was a 99% chance that he could, and that might lead into a fight) I would fight “IF” I had to. John must of heard and told Jim, “His version” of my conversation with Bill. I tell Bill this in the locker room in 2nd hour gym. By the time 4th hour was getting out and 5th hour was getting ready to start. Mr. Smith strolls up to with a big grin, he puts his hand around my shoulder and says “So you want a fight huh?” I go to answer and he interrupts, “then you got it, right here at the park after school” he points to the north west out of the school at the muddy park, the battle ground. He snickers and slaps me on my back and walks back to his locker, the opposite way to our 5th hour, World History class with Mr. Sam. My body numb, and mind empty I sit down in class. Our teacher goes to take attendance Jim walks in, smiles at me and starts to talk to John again, who is also in my 5th hour. The room buzzes about the fight, several students look at me in horror and ask , “Are you going to really fight him?” I shrug and play it cool, not showing any worry,(which none in my mind at the moment) “Yup.” There eyes of terror show they would not, and they make it clear to me that I’m pretty much out of my mind to do this. [See now let me stop you and tell you a little about Jim he has messed with me and bullied me before, as many African- American students have(Not just them, also white students but of late the African Americans). He has tried to push me around and take my things, and why? No reason, just because he’s black and bigger and stronger. So he pushes me and grabs my hat, “I’ll jack that hat off you(for you people that don’t understand our slang, I’ll take that hat from you).” I tell him to give it back and he pushes me back, I push back harder two times, and take his hands off my hat. I see the fire in his eyes and he yells to me, “Come on! Push me one more time ****! I’ll **** you up boy!” I look at him and just stand he walks away. The other African Americans students have threatened me just for my Chain and Detroit Tigers emblem, that’s connected to my chain, Saying the same that they where going to jack it off me and take my cell phone. Once threatening me with ten other friends that would jump me when I walked home, I deiced to stay after school with a few friends just incase trouble did come. I walk home after school, no trouble, but the fear of this ambush was heavy. The other kids would call me a Fag, gay, a Jew(because of my brown curly hair) and that I have a Jew fro. Also make fun of my weight.]

I am asked quietly loudly in front of the teacher about it, and he just ignores it. The whole class talks about it; yet again he sits and doses nothing. if he would of just listen and done his job, this would have never gone down. But that’s to much to ask from a teacher, and especially in River Oak , which supposedly has no problem, but yet I’ve see fights, heard about gangs and drug deals in the walls where I’m trying to learn to be someone, do you have any idea how hard it is? How hard it is to learn when you fear if you piss the wrong person off and you can’t fight or you can fight but not that moment, you could be killed. Ha and the school expects us to tell them yeah right. So they can sit you down and have you two talk. The person that bullies you, you mine as well put a person that was raped and the person who raped them and say “Work it out, and how do you feel about each other” pardon my language, but what the f***? Yes you know you love the person who makes you life HELL! And they give them a slap on the hands and tell them not to do it again. But now the person is even more upset cause you got them in trouble, which makes you life even worse. Do you now understand why we cannot tell?

The day ticks away and I’m questioned continually through the last two hours of school if I’m going to fight. I tell them all the same, “Yes” and leave It at that. The end of the day comes, my friend Bill grabs me before I start to head out and drags me to his locker. “I’m not going to let you go alone.” I smile and pat him on the back and sit against the wall by his locker, “Thank you” I say quietly.

We head outside, there is no way out I say to myself, we see him walking towards the park, three people with him. I sigh, only three, still not good four on two, but better then half the school as I planned to see. As I have in the past; we start to walk and I look to Bill, “I don’t want to fight. But I gotta” we start to cross the street and he stops us and says, “Make him come to us” so we stand but people in cars start to pull up, three cars. All African Americana’s, I recognize them all, my heart stops. “Its gonna be a f***ing gang beat down” I think to myself, my worry isn’t Jim, it’s not the people walking towards us, and the fear of getting jumped by eight-teen or nine-teen other kids. Twenty against two, I don’t care about my self, I can’t let Bill get hurt so I move forward to the park. Five or six kids that are white stand laughing and getting there phones ready. I stand, thinking I’ve made the best choice; I won’t let my mother and little brother get hurt, so I’ll take it for them. That’s why I cannot get home, because they would stalk me to my house, and I will not let my only two family get hurt. (My mother is a single parent and my brother high functioning Autistic. My father left when I was five, I’m the man of the house) and I cannot just stand there so twenty-four to thirty kids jump me and my friend.

We walk up, Jim comes at me, John Smith(the cause of this), Frank Smith, and Cory Dane stand there and yell for him to wait so I can pull up my pants( the style I dress my pants are baggy and hang low). I get screamed at, “Nigger you’re not pullin them pants up fast enough! Come one n****r!” I pull them up and look up at Jim , one thing shoots through my mind, “Here comes the pain”(Also famous quote form Brock Lesnar, W.W.E Superstar) I get my hands half way up in defense and he sucker punches me under my left eye, I move back and put my wrists in front of my face, I cannot see, I’m stunned. He hits me in the jaw and right cheek, which catches on my braces. The metal like, warm blood pours out of my wound and down my throat. He continues to hit, I still cannot see, I can hear laughing and chants. I get thrown against the fence and he hits me. I lose my guard, his hits stunning me, he bounces me off it but I put up my guard and push, he opens his arms. And grabs my shirt and throws me down.

I scramble to my feet and he starts beating on the back of my head, but I continue to get up. I won’t give up; he finally hits me in the face again. I go down, and cover my head up. “I’m going to get hurt or die. Here ends it all, me standing up like a man. For them, good by my family” I say to myself, I continue to be thrown in the mud and beat on as I’m down. I’m on my knees and try to hit back but don’t, I cannot afford to be open, that could have killed me. He continued to hit me for a minutes, I feel as a forces is hitting me, no pain just blood and voices. I look up and see nothing but the sky and hands. So I look in-between his feet and see feet coming my way, but who’s are they?

The beating stops and voices are running, I hear feet running and engines start. I get up and shake my head, I see Cory stand and smile as he closes his phone and runs to catch up to Jim and his lackeys. Bill  runs to me and goes to help me up and I push him away. I get up and see our Vice Principle Strolling to us like it was no big deal, I look down and see those feet. It was Bill’s, he was running to stop it, he screamed and tried to call it off. I smile as I go to look at our Vice Principle Mr.Z. Bill pulls on me and shakes his head, “Come on!” he pulls me and I try to fight back but don’t; I feel my face blood coming out and my eyes swollen, the one he sucker punched me in. I smile and spit some blood, “I got my ass beat. Dude I wanna go back” I say and start to but he pulls me and I follow, and I sigh, “Damn, I don’t want stitches” I say as I feel right under my eye. He kind of laughs as I try to lighten the mode.

We walk pass city worker, “Who is that mother ******?” they ask me, I stop and tell him Jim’s name. they shake with anger and say, “I want to kick his ass for that, it wasn’t fair!” another putts in, “Sucker punch that mother ****** tomorrow” I grin, “I will if I see him” and we walk to my house.

I open my door and my brother looks at me with fear, ****! What happened.” I smile and touch his head, leaving mud on him, forgetting I’m full of mud. “Nothing.” then take off my pants, ( I had shorts under them) and throw them down the stairs where my mom works( medical transcription) and yell, “Ma, I’m home and your going to be mad at me.” she stops her typing looks at the pants and asks, “Why?” I look to Bill, he’s still stunned, “cause I got in a fight and I’m messed up” she says to come down I refuse. I didn’t want to cause trouble, but knowing how beat up I was I know it would.

Bill talks to her as she comes up, I walk to the hallway closet. Grab a towel and go to the bathroom. I start the water when I hear my mom saying, “Let me see you. Let me see you” I open the door and look out, “See I’m messed up” her face goes white and she looks at me, “Oh my god” she mutters. I close the door and get in.

I wash all my blood and all the mud off me. I dry off, and run to my room to grab clothes. I get dressed and come back downstairs; I put my necklace and hat back on. I took them off so I wouldn’t lose them during the fight; my mother is talking loudly to the school Principle. I put my shoes and start to walk out the door, my mother and friend stop me. holding me back till I finally give up and walk down the stairs. Moments later my father walks in and wants me to show him my face. Un willingly I show him my battered face. They call the school again and tell them we are coming down.

Anger flows through my veins as I we walk in the school. Sitting there , the police officer, the principle(Mrs. ), and the assistant principle(Mr.) sit there as we enter the room. They ask what happened, I cannot help but smile and hold back the urge to say, “Hmmm lets see I got beat down, what does it look like what happened?!” but I let my mother and father talk. They continuous cut us off and start to raise their voice toward my mother, I go to the offensive and start to talk to them. They ask why I didn’t come down to them and tell, my response, “I get threatened daily, you can’t tell if people are talking junk or are actually going to do it.” They ignore it and go on, they talk about my fifth hour when everyone talked about it. I told them straight out that everyone is talking very loudly about it and the teacher sat there and ignored it. They said, “We cannot assume he heard.”

I give them four or five names and they continue to try to blame me for this fight saying I should have come them but I said “You don‘t help me“. I look to my mom and dad, I turn to the door and go to walk out. As I walk out I say, “I’m done now” and walk out to the doors.

Within five minutes I was begin driven to the hospital but the wait was to long, so we went to a emergency care at my regular doctor. They said that it was bruises and few cuts, to take Motrin, and ice my face. Which had under my left eye almost swollen shut, very soon after this my mother started calling police . Days after the attack the swelling went away but my left eye, on the left of the pupil become blood red. Form the little veins popping in my eyes. The next day I went to back to the doctor who ordered head x-rays. I have to see an eye doctor for my eye because it has red blood veins popped all in it.

Now you must understand yes we are boys and yes we fight but I had no chance. I had no reason to fight rather then to protect my family from this blood thirsty scum bag to come to my house. I had to take this beating, not because I wanted to fight but because I had to. They wonder why I'm depressed and upset? Easily my pride will be restored but it still hurt knowing a fellow class mate did this. It hurts more that teacher I thought I could trust, just turned there back .

My emotions run wild as I recall the story, I feel hurt in so many ways, not physically but emotionally I am destroyed. I was beat down because this scum wanted someone to take it out on and I had no choice but to take it. Ever since this attack on the Tuesday of the eighteenth of march, I have felt different. But as time moves on my wounds heal fast but the only thing I feel is disappointment and some pain. Just to know that a school doesn't care and that they allow him to come back after the Spring break. They allow a potential killer in the school for a another victim. They need to stop this, this bullying and assaulting. Because there is so many people out there that aren’t able to recover, they turn to suicide. And why? Because bullies, and because the schools don’t care. So lets stop this, because if you don’t, then you’re the main cause of these peoples death, how many more do you need before you hear about another “Colombine” or another suicide by bullied kid?

 ( The names have been changed due protect this young man)