The bullying finally came to a head about six weeks before the end of the school year. I had reached a breaking point with the harassment that I had received from these two boys through the entire year, and in my mind had decided that the time had come that one way or the other I was going to do something about.

I still had not come to terms with just how or where I was going to do this, but I knew that it had to happen. They had successfully gotten away with it through the entire term, and no one, including my teachers or fellow students had done anything about. If I were going to do anything to stop the constant harassment, I was going to have to do it myself. I knew I had allowed it to happen. I was the one to blame.

It all came together in gym class on a Friday afternoon. I clearly remember that we were playing dodge ball. The ball had been thrown from a fellow student, and missed the student that it had been aimed at, and ended up in my hands. At that moment, one of the boys who had been harassing me came around behind me jerking the ball out of my hands and slamming it into my stomach. I fell to the floor trying to suck in all the air that I could suck, and laying several minutes moaning and groaning on the floor. Finally, able to stand up, I looked around and saw him standing on the other side of the circle watching me with a satisfying grin on his face.

I continue to hold the ball watching him as he moved around the circle towards me. As he got closer to me, one of the other students started towards him, and throw their ball at him, and he forgot about me. That was his mistake. As he reached me, I rared back with all my might and slammed the ball into his upper chest. He fell to the floor trying his best to suck in all the air that he could inhale.

This time I saw my chance, and fell on top of him just as I had my brother so many times before. I wrapped my legs around him, placed both my hands around his neck, and began to squeeze. Other students in the class began to cheer as they watch this guy turn a different color. When they began to see the life drain from his face, they realize that I was not going to let go until he was dead. Several of them started jerking my hands while others began to grab my legs to pull them loose from around his body, while others tried to jerk me off his body. It felt like several minutes, but it was probably more like only 20 or 30 seconds before they finally pulled me loose from him.

When they finally separated us, and he stood up, he looked at me with tears running down his face. “You were trying to kill me, weren’t you?”

I looked at him for several seconds without saying anything. “If you ever touch me again, I will finish the job.” And I turned and walked away.

They never touch me again. After that school year, I never saw them again. That night when I got home I expected my dad to come looking for me. For the next several weeks, I expected my dad to come into my bedroom and tell me that the police were looking for me, but no one ever showed. I guess the two boys figured they had created the problem themselves.

I have a sister-in-law that swears up and down that when we were in high school together that I bullied her for the whole school year. I have told her numerous times that I never bullied her. She doesn’t know this story. If she did, she would understand why I tell her that I’m not the one that bullied her.

I just don’t understand why people feel like they have to bully other people.