Let's untie her,"
I said to my friend.
I was about eight years old.
I was bullied.
But there was always someone even weaker.
Then it was my turn to be the stronger one.
Near our school lived a family who had built a very tall fence along the road.
They wanted to be left alone.
They were poor.
Poorer than my family.
They had two children.
One was a little younger than me.
The other was a small boy.
Everyone bullied them.
Their glasses were thick.
Their eyes looked too big.
They were often dirty.
Covered in food stains and mud.
And mosquitoes.
They spoke unclearly.
We understood they weren't like the others.
One evening we wandered around near the school, trying to think of something bad to do.
We saw the girl.
We talked to her for a while.
Then we got bored.
We decided to tie her to a park bench.
We went home ourselves, because it was getting dark.
The girl started screaming.
No words.
Just sound.
She screamed that she was going to die.
That the mosquitoes were eating her.
We laughed.
Then we came back to watch.
Something had changed.
The girl was covered by a black cloud of mosquitoes.
She struggled and screamed.
We watched for a moment.
Then I said, "She's really going to die.
Let's untie her."
I started untying the knots.
The mosquitoes attacked me too.
Their bites hurt.
I couldn't get the knots open.
We had tied them well.
It was hot.
The buzzing was everywhere.
Finally the knots came loose.
The girl stood up.
She ran home, covering her face with both hands.
She was crying.
I stood there.
For the first time, I saw a little human being.
A little girl just like me.
I never bullied her again.