The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3392 by Angharad Copyright© 2023 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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Despite all the abuse, I seemed to grow up normal insofar as my behaviour was concerned and my core values which essentially meant that I tried not to show any prejudice until deserved and that I believed and still do, in live and let live but also in protecting the vulnerable.

To me anyone who is vulnerable, means that they may not be able to protect themselves against everyday threats. If you look robust enough to stand up for yourself most thugs will leave you alone even if it's all superficial stuff, because anything that makes a lot of noise or fights back means it takes too much trouble to try and rob or whatever. Vulnerability can also mean people don't understand what's happening and they are often the victim of scammers and fraudsters and these are people with a learning difficulty or elderly or some other problem and, let's face it, some of the scammers and fraudsters are so sophisticated these days, anyone can be robbed by them.

I grew up vulnerable, there was just enough different about me for the predators to recognise it, quite what they saw I don't know because I usually tried to fight back or get into a zone where I didn't acknowledge the punishment they were inflicting on me physically. If you don't react they don't have much fun so they go and find some other victim. Sadly, it seems bullies seem to stick together but the victims don't. If they did they'd chase off the bullies but most don't seem to appreciate that fact or are so traumatised that they can't form groups.
My first reaction to being bullied was in nursery when I hit a girl who was after the same dressing up clothes as me, she shoved me because she was bigger and stronger so I bashed over the head with a large toy car (see, they have uses to girls as well as boys). My mother was sent for and I was suspended for a couple of days as was the bully. I was too small and young to be physically punished so my father couldn't hit me but he showed his disdain for me verbally despite my mother saying the bully started it, it was squabbling over a dress or a doll, I can't remember which that seemed to invite my father's scorn and derision. But I gave early notice that I was no pushover (actually, I was pushed over but I retaliated.

High school was slightly more sophisticated and more complicated. I first noticed that my chest wasn't flat like most of the other boys, I had fleshy pectorals and my nipples were darker. Because I was accused of being a homo, I got beaten up in the showers and changing rooms a couple of times before I discovered I could go home dirty and shower or wash there. I'd also noticed that my sex organs were much smaller than most of the other boys. My voice hadn't broken and I had no hair on my face which wasn't full of pus like most of my contemporaries and I was smaller because the testosterone which gives growth spurts didn't affect my body so I was the archetypal weed or nerd.

I was agile and wiry rather than muscle-bound and my hips were becoming a bit of a problem in that they were rather tight in my trousers, my bum was also bigger than the average boy's but I didn't twig for several years, I thought it was something that happened to every boy. Fortunately, no one seemed aware of it except Siân but she didn't say anything about it until we met as adults.

I can remember catching somebody with a door when they were chasing me, I held it open until they tried to come through, then slammed it shut my whole bodyweight behind it. They believed me that the cause of the door slamming so violently, was the draught from an open window. Several time's I was about to be punched when I evaded it and they hit the wall, one bully claimed I'd broken his hand, his argument was as weak as his thinking and it transpired that it was the wall that broke his hand because he was trying to punch me in the face and I dropped out of his grasp. He looked as big a fool as they come, however, the headmaster gave me a warning about provoking other boys. I said I would try not to breathe as that seemed to all the provocation they needed. He was not amused and neither was I. It was his job to protect me, he singularly failed to do so.

Back at home my father was almost seeking ways to beat the sissy out of me and once I questioned him for doing so as I thought I was a girl. I got two beatings that evening and couldn't do gym the next day because I could hardly walk and my body was covered in bruises and abrasions. Had I been allowed to wear the school skirt it would have matched some of the bruises perfectly. When my mother saw how badly he'd beaten me she intervened and sent me up for a hot bath and then to bed. I had started growing my hair as a protest against the abuse I was receiving at home and in school. I simply refused to get it cut more than to tidy it, Siân had encouraged me to use the same hairdresser as her and the woman thought I was a girl. They got payback because I had to do the Scottish play as I insisted in having long hair like a girl, but they couldn't see the next part of the argument that I had long hair like a girl because I was one. It seemed beyond them or perhaps they didn't want to think there was a reason behind it except me being awkward and I argued my case through the school rule book as they applied it to both girls and boys. So I had to keep it clean and tied back as the girls did. It was the only time that logic seemed to support me.

I used methods of tying it back that Siân taught me but plaits were apparently unacceptable as I found out the hard way, putting my hair up was another that was rejected even though it kept my locks out of the way and it was washed and conditioned regularly. I tried various things like pig tails and was told to tie it back in one piece but they didn't say much when I pulled the front back and tied it in a small bunch then put the rest in a ponytail. It was bit girly but I got away with it.

None noticed when I got my ears pierced except my mum and she just made sarcastic remarks. However she didn't tell my father and he didn't notice.

I did have a different experience which confused me. I was trying to protect a younger boy from a group of bullies. He shoved me away saying to take my girly arse somewhere else and immediately set to on the bullies. He lost because they overwhelmed him with numbers but I tried to help him by downing one or two before I got a black-eye and retreated. After that his reputation grew and the bullies left him alone, they did me as well for a couple of weeks then it was back to normal and I had to keep my eyes open so I didn't wander into any traps.

One that nearly had me was someone saying the head wanted o see me. I was in a classroom upstairs and between lessons the stairs were virtually unused. This day they had tied a string across the stairs and I was heading down it at a pace when a teacher who was walking up, spotted it. He collected the string which could have cause a nasty fall on marble covered concrete steps. He spoke to the teacher who class I was supposedly summoned from and under questioning the boy who had passed the message on to me owned up and betrayed some of his friends to. It was the only time they tried that, it was too dangerous.

Broken bones and worse injuries happened, the sports field being one such place though I was lucky there, as the day I was threatened by one of the regular footballers when he tried to tackle me, I jumped over his legs. Again and again I was passed the ball for him to injure me in the tackle and I avoided it. On one occasion I kicked the ball at him and it struck him in the face, another time I jumped over his sliding tackle and another time I left the ball and ran away, he missed his tackle and I went back for the ball and kicked up the pitch. I wasn't interested in goal or winning, just survival and having made a laughing stock of the aptly named, Savage, he came looking for me after the game. It was last lesson and while he was trying to pusue me in the showers I was walking home.

The next day he confronted me in the corridor and picked me up by the throat with his fist waved in my face it was obvious what he meant, fortunately for me Whitehead saw him and he got detention. I was left gasping for breath so unable to answer Whitehead's question of why Savage was threatening me. Had I been able to speak, I still couldn't have answered him because I didn't know why Savage was after me.

We had one further confrontation, when he tried to barge me into cupboard in the corridor. I just stopped and he barged at a space where I wasn't and he fell over much to the amusement of his friends. "Charlotte, I'm gonna kill you," he ranted down the corridor and unbeknownst to him, Murray heard him and he got another detention. This only put off to another day when he would try to attack me without being caught. It was actually two days later when he and his friends caught up with me. It was outside and I had my Care Bears backpack full of books which slowed down any chance of escape. I slipped it off my back ready to jettison it if necessary. It was full of my homework but homework is rather difficult to do if you have broken limbs or worse.
He stepped in front of me and kicked at my bag which was full of text books, he broke a toe and hobbled away calling for his friends to beat me up. Feeling angry that he may have damaged my books and which I'd be liable, I picked up my bag and swung it around hitting two of his pals, they both joined their leader as hors de combat and the others decided it wasn't worth feeling the weight of my biology textbook in a tender spot, so they let me go.

Because he broke his toe he couldn't play in the soccer tournament and threatened me again, I just swung my bag, once again laden with books, as a threat to do more than break his toe if he or his friends tried anything again. He became a greater laughing stock than ever because the others were saying I hit him with my handbag and he once again came after me and as he went to punch me my knee made contact with his nether parts. He never did punch me but spent a few minutes rolling about on the floor of the corridor. After that he gave me a wide berth.

Not every confrontation was as lucky and I suffered several beatings over the years but they usually didn't hit my face so it wouldn't show and I also learned how to do a 'Glasgow kiss,' if they put their faces to close to mine. It's essentially a head-butt aimed at the bridge of the nose and even if it doesn't break the nose it hurts and gives time to escape. So while I received the odd beating I was also developing a reputation for fighting back and not necessarily as a girl, though I did poke one boy in the eyes and scratch his face with my nails. He tried to pretend a cat had got him, but this particular pussy had balls.

As my hair got longer it became a target for jokers and bullies to try and pull of the elastic that was holding it tidy, and one two got caught by me but usually they escaped and I began to carry several more scrunchies in my blazer pocket. It got rather tedious at times and I learned to slap back-handedly at anyone touching my hair and once or twice the perpetrator got slapped, usually at face level.

It sounds as if I was always in fights, I wasn't but they'd go through phases of trying to pull out Charlotte's scrunchy, often boys quite a bit younger, who may or may not have been bigger, but it seemed like a rite of passage for some of them and a source of irritation for me, but I wasn't going to get it cut for anybody.