Amnesia

A sudden shock of icy water jolted through me, the chill biting into my skin as it seeped into my clothes. In that moment, I felt a whirlwind of emotions—first confusion, then an overwhelming sense of humiliation as laughter echoed around me. My face burned with a mix of anger and shame, knowing that all eyes were on me, watching my reaction. Instantly, I realized it was no accident; a classmate stood there, smirking at my inability to retaliate.

He threw water on me again.

I say, eyes wide open and eyebrows furrowed, “Leave me alone. Why do you keep doing this? Disgusting!” My throat tightens as the words leave my mouth, a mix of fear and frustration.

He mimics me with a sinister smirk, repeating, “ ‘Leave me alone. Why do you keep doing this? Disgusting!’ ” in a mocking tone. A shiver runs down my spine, but I try to stand firm.

Then I add, “You’re childish, although you’re one of the top students. Is that even possible?”

He replies with a curious look, “What does being a top student have to do with my actions?”

I’m speechless. I don’t even remember the details of how he has bullied me all this time—when it started, or the specifics of his abuse.

But I do remember the physical pain. It was like a dull, persistent ache that followed me everywhere. My limbs hurt all over at the end of the day, and sometimes there were blue spots on my body. My clothes were often soaking wet, sticking to my skin as if to remind me of my vulnerability.

Emotionally, I felt trapped, like I was drowning in a sea of hopelessness.

Each bruise and every humiliating encounter chipped away at my confidence, leaving me numb and scared. It was as if the world was closing in on me, and I was powerless to stop it.

“It’s that girl again.”

“She’s always soaking wet. What is she, a frog? Haha.”

“Look at her oily hair, ew.”

Those useless girls are chit-chatting again without even considering helping me blow-dry my clothes or wash my hair. I can’t believe we’re classmates. Even the boys aren’t acting.

“Don’t look at her. You might get bullied too—by Tsuji. Look, he’s glaring at you.”

That girl averts her gaze at blazing speed. The class prince has definitely succeeded in scaring our classmates away. He is the teachers’ pet, after all.

“You won’t get away from me,” he says, gesturing with his mouth. I want to spit in his mouth, but I can’t. He must be backed by someone with high status. I heard he bullied multiple students before, one at a time—so he never got caught.

His latest victim almost committed suicide. Fortunately, her parents transferred her to another school.

Now it’s my turn. I guess I’m stuck in this hell until high school—if I even make it that far.

Expecting help is pointless. No one will step up. If you let them see you waiting for someone to save you, all you’ll get is embarrassment and silent laughter. The world is unfair, and it’s foolish to expect kindness. The only thing that awaits me here is more humiliation, day after day.