Never Forgive

• Bella Brazel, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2019

‘I will never forgive or forget what my father did.’

“He’s getting away!” “Get him!” “Wimp!” “Coward!” “Come here so we can beat you up freak!” The voices seem to get even louder, echoing in my head as my feet seem to carry me across the grassy field, my salty tears blurring my vision and burning my eyes.

The 3 boys continue to scream countless insults at me as I feel the sharp grass blades whip at my exposed ankles. “I'll snap you like a twig Erik!” “We are gonna get you eventually ‘Stick’, so just give up now!”

‘Stick’ that stupid nickname is the worst, I always seem have a weak nickname everyone calls me things like; ‘twig’ and ‘pencil’ the nicknames seem to pile up as I move from school to school.

Everyday I get chased out of the school grounds at exactly 3:15pm by the same trio of boys. Whenever I see them with their tainted, filthy grins plastered permanently on their faces, my first instinct is to run, run away as fast as I can.

Exhaustion is wearing heavy on me as I continue to run from the towering boys. I don’t think I can keep up the speed I am running at, I will surely be caught and beaten unmercifully.

Still racing ahead of the boys I swiftly take a turn into the dark forest next to the school. Dodging the trees left and right I still hear the boys screaming insults like banshees.

Suddenly the screaming insults fade away as I trip over my own feet from sheer exhaustion. I scrunch up my eyes waiting for multiple fists and feet to start beating me senseless again. More wounds, bruises and scratches that will do more harm to my already very weak and feeble body.

But they never come…

I open my eyes to see the sun glaring down at me through the thick twisting trees. I then realise I have lost the boys in this seemingly never-ending void of nature and true beauty. They have given up. I sigh in relief and catch my breath as I slowly lose myself in the nature that surrounds me.

The dry leaves on the cool, earthy floor crinkle beneath me whenever I take one of my shaky breaths. The thick looming trees seem to shelter me from harm, like one of the warm hugs I used to get from my mother that made me feel loved, strong and brave.

They were once warm and all encumbering hugs, that gave me hope that I was something, now I don’t have the pleasure of them anymore. Now the world seems to be cold and unforgiving, I now fear that I will never amount to anything.

Hot, salty tears stain my face as my scratches from falling, seep crimson red blood, staining my already filthy and torn clothes. As one thought echoes through my head and it will never go away.

‘I will never forgive or forget what my father did.’