That's right. I guess I never introduced myself.
I'm Rhea. Rhea Liverpool.
Back then, I was just a scrawny, awkward kid with a pigeon-toed gait, lanky build. With dark brunette curly hair, that looked wild and untamable. Dry, frizzy uneven curl patterns that when brushed or combed ended in even more frizz.
My features were plain, blotchy, and rounded, my smile—uneven, crooked. Adults called it "cute," but it wasn't. It was fabricated, an attempt at looking happy when I didn't even know what real happiness was.
The start of elementary school was daunting.
The clear backpack stuffed with folders and new utensils should have felt exciting, like a brand-new start. I could make friends. I could find something I was good at. Maybe even impress my mom.
But instead, it filled me with anxiety and dread. For years, I had been made to believe I wasn't good enough. Every failure was met with pain.
I remember the uniform—the tan and white fabric. Neutral colors, meant to hide class differences so the wealthy kids couldn't show off and the poor ones wouldn't be embarrassed. I remember walking in, my gait more awkward than usual because of the too-tight shoes on my feet. I tried to blend in, do what the other kids did, but they could tell something was off about me.
My smile, my laugh—it never reached my eyes. And that was enough to make them keep their distance.
I was strange.
Where I lived was nice enough, but it was closed off—closed-minded. Everyone looked the same, thought the same, acted the same. At least on the surface.
Even as a kid, I didn't fit the mold of what that town expected us to be.
And because I didn't fit that mold, I was bullied relentlessly.
Shocking, right?
I remember watching a watered-down, inaccurate children's film about Christopher Columbus's travels when a nasally voice came from behind me.
"Ms. Z! Ms. Z!"
The woman—Ms. Ziegler—paused the film and looked back, tired behind silver-rimmed glasses.
"Yes, Ryan?"
"I can't see! Rhea's hair is everywhere!"
All eyes landed on me. I tried desperately to smooth my down. Their murmurs and taunts followed:
"Bird's nest."
"Doggy."
"Mophead."
I gave Ms. Ziegler a pleading look. I was seven. I wanted nothing more than to blend in. Her acknowledging Ryan's complaint would only make it worse.
"Rhea, up," she said with a sigh and a dismissive wave to the back.
And that was their confirmation that I was the problem.
"You aren't like us, are you?"
Their hive mindset suspicions confirmed.
And the following days grew worse with each interaction. Every day their interest in me grew. Lingering looks. Whispers and laughs they wanted me to see.
On the playground, I was usually ignored, while I sat in the corner shade with my notebook, sketching just to pass the time and escape to a safer place. But me being a self outcast was no longer an option. they didn't just want me alone for how odd I was they wanted me to suffer because of it.
The first real interaction started innocently enough. A girl with bright blue eyes, blonde hair, and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She remind me of my mother. Her name was Ellie.
"Hey, Rhea? Wanna go down the slide with us?" At that moment I gotta say I was a bit naïve. I mean—look at it through my eyes. Someone really wanted to be my friend—My friend!
My heart pounded with excitement in that moment. I could possibly have friends and silly little rhea…gave a vigorous nod, not being able to find the words. Honestly, even today— I can still feel the ache in my jaw at the intensity.
I jumped up and followed her. I watched as her friend Nicole went down the slide first. It seemed simple enough, sit and let gravity do the work let out a "whee" and brace for the dirt.
You laugh.
They cheer.
And repeat.
Soon my turn came up it looked farther down than it did before I went up the stairs. So I was reasonably nervous.
"It's OK, just go Rhea" Ellie coaxed softly. I remember slowly, taking a seat. Gripping the sides of the metal slide like a lifeline. I looked back at Ellie for reassurance. She nodded again.
"Yeah, go. It's okay. Here—I'll give you a push!"
She grunted as she shoved me hard. It was like she was pushing me to my demise. I went through the dark tunnel.
The hot metal burning against my under thighs as the bright light closing in fast at the end. Relief flooded me—until something cold and sticky splashed across my face.
I gasped as I hit the dirt. Juice and soil mixed into a slimy mess across my uniform.
Nicole stood there, container in hand, grinning. Ellie rushed down the steps, covering her mouth as if in shock, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.
"Rhea, what.. what happened? You've got juice and dirt.. all…it's everywhere" Her tone was mocking, filled with snickers, before turning towards Nicole who shrugged innocently.
"What? She came at me so fast, it reminded of dog coming through his doggy door coming for a drink. I was being nice. You understand right Rhea?"
She was wrong. She was lying. I understood but I didn't want to see it. I really wanted to think that those bitches were my friends—so I pushed the doubts away. Ellie smiled politely.
"She was just trying to help so don't tell Ms. Z ok?"
I looked between her and Nicole. Nicole's voice added more pressure, as she gripped my hand tightly—Threateningly.
"Don't—okay."
I couldn't help but nod slowly. I-I wont.. it's okay."
I brushed off my uniform, sticky and stained. I already knew when I got home my mom would be furious about the mess. But I told myself that's what friends were for—friends played games.
And the things we do for friends, right?
That was an invitation. An invitation to use more of their cruel games on me, and I accepted. First it was the slide.
Then it was kickball. Hard intentional kicks to the face— ribs and stomach. While I struggled to hold in whimpers and tears, weakly rolling the ball back to them so they could start again.
Next the roundabout. Spinning me hard and fast until I was overcome with nausea. Watching as their grins blurred together and my head throbbed so hard it felt numb—while I desperately held the metal bars for dear life.
With each incident more of my classmates joined in our "play" and the intentions grew more nefarious.
Rough hands grabbed me, dragging me forward.
"Come on."
"Don't be shy."
Their encouragement was as much a shove as their hands were.
They pulled me to the swing, circled around me, voices overlapping.
"Just do it." Ellie said.
"Come on do it. Doggy!" Ryan snickered
"Hurry up!" Nicole yelled.
Higher and higher they pushed me. The metal chains squeaked, the ground blurred.
"Just jump doggy!"
"Be a good girl!"
"Go on! You'll be ok"
But I knew the truth. They didn't want me to be fine. They wanted to see me fall, hurt, possibly die.
Who knew kids could be so fucking evil?
And if you haven't already guessed it. Of course, I jumped.
I still remember the panic, the rush in my chest, the ground shifting between too close and too far. Their chant filled my ears, forcing me to move.
And then—Black.
I don't remember much after that. All I knew was that My head throbbed, my side ached And it exerted me to open my eyes. I woke up in the nurse's office. My mom was there, a pleasant smile on her face as she chatted with the teacher.
"Oh no, she fell off the swing?" My mother's voice was a sickly sweet tone it spoke of a mother worried about her precious child. she clasped her hands to her chest her body angled slightly towards the teacher as she spoke her eyes wide and lips parted hanging on every word the teacher said.
"Mhm, yes, she's ok though. The nurse checked her out. No sprains, no broken bones, but she Emphasized that a doctor Would be able to give a more thorough examination so if she seems in pain to take her in."
"Don't worry I'm sure she's fine Rhea is a very resilient girl." Her eyes slid over to me, the smile was present, but her eyes were cold and carried a harsh command, silent but clear: when we got home, I would wish I had never woken up.