After 4-5 months of bullying, of trying teachers and parents, and asking family and friends and adults for help and advice. After all that, he threw me in the road. I almost got hit by a car. I remember the headlights. I remember the horn. And the driver getting out to yell at me, like it was my fault.

I went home and put a giant steak knife in my backpack. The big one, with metal all the way down, so it wasn’t like the cheap knives we had that broke easy. Serrated because it might hurt more. Went to bathroom, and got some hair scrunchiis and hair ties.

Started wearing big sweatshirts to school with long sleeves. And after school I’d go to the bathroom and use the hair ties to secure the knife to my wrist under the sweater. I’d practice drawing it. I would wait in the stall until the hallway was quiet, so I’d always be alone on the walk home.

I don’t remember how long it was, but he took the bait. And I put the knife to his throat and screamed as loud as I could that I’d kill him if he didn’t let me go. He let me go. So I scratched him with it and he fucked off.