My school is taking children

I’m in school and I have a problem. They’ve told me that in times of trouble, I should confide in a responsible adult who I can trust, only I can’t trust any of the adults in my life so I’m turning to the internet in hopes that someone can solve my problem or at least point me in the right direction.

It started during your typical school day. I watched the other kids making new friends and saying hello to their old friends while I got shoved into lockers and called derogatory names. During recess, some particularly violent kids wanted to cut words into my arm with a penknife so I ran for all I was worth and attracted the attention of my gym teacher, who said I should try out for the track team.

My parents would never notice if I was out late because my dad is constantly on business trips and my mom is always stoned, so I made the track team, and that was that.

Practise was daily after school. I was too scared to shower with the other kids on the team because they constantly mocked my naked figure so I usually walked home sweaty and disgusting and showered in the privacy of my parents bathroom that always smelled like weed.

One day though, all the particularly horrible kids were sick, so I showered at school for a change. I took my time and relaxed, and then I remembered that I’d forgotten my math books in my locker. The usual route to my locker was blocked off by the cleaners, so I took the long way and heard a conversation you don’t want to ever hear at your school:

“Your parents will never know. Now take off your shirt.” The teacher was addressing a girl who was crying. “If you don’t take off your shirt, I have no choice to but to fail you, and you don’t want that.”

I peaked through the door’s window and saw three teachers holding scalpels toward a girl I’d never seen before.

“It won’t hurt if you hold still,” said one of the teachers.

I considered opening the door to stop them but I knew I stood no chance against three adults, so I pulled the fire alarm with my shirt over my hand, to hide my fingerprints, and hid in an empty locker, watching to make sure the three teachers and the girl all left the classroom.

“Find whoever pulled the fire alarm,” one of teachers ordered.

The teachers ran right past me. I thought they would hear the thick vibrations of my beating heart, but they didn’t, and the girl ran outside to safety. Once I could guarantee the teachers locations based on where I’d heard them running to, I ran home.

I wanted to phone the police but I had no useful information for them. I couldn’t get a good view of any of the teachers and I didn’t know the name of the girl they had tried to violate. Mother was stoned and watching cartoons while Father was in another continent.

The next day, I looked for the violated girl but couldn’t see her. I tried to recognize the teachers but they moved too fast for me to get a good look and none of my regular teachers fit the profiles of who I’d seen last night.

Maybe it would happen again tonight. Against my personal safety, I showered at school after track practise and was ridiculed by the rest of the team, but I couldn’t concentrate on their mockery, so they made me drink toilet water which meant I had to shower twice, which meant I was alone in the school again. I walked the same route to my locker as last time, passing the same room, only there was nothing this time. Maybe they’d been spooked yesterday, and were thinking twice about their life choices. I had to go to my locker anyway, to get my sweater, and heard a scream from another classroom.

I peaked through the window and saw three teachers with the same girl, only this time, they had cut open her stomach while she was awake and hooked up to weird machines.

“You will cooperate this time,” said one of the teachers.

The girl cried in and out of loud panicked gasping.

One of the other teachers saw me this time through the window, so I ran for my life around the nearest corner and pulled the fire alarm again with a my shirt over my hand and hid in a rubbish bin as two teachers ran past me again.

“We aren’t leaving until we find out who pulled the fire alarm,” said one of the teachers, whose voice I couldn’t identify.

“What about the girl?” asked the other teacher.

I didn’t hear the answer, but I did hear them leave. I exited the waste and ran for the nearest exit, only to find it locked. Something freaky was going on and I had no time to run around the school like a hamster in a maze looking for open doors, so I took a nearby fire extinguisher with my shirt covering my hands, smashed the door window, and ran like hell.

Track practise and the adrenaline had worn me down, so I hid in a tree rather than risk running on the open streets where I could be seen by the teachers, who were patrolling the outside of the school as the fire trucks showed up.

“Everything all right?” I could hear a fireman asking a teacher.

“No,” said the teacher. “Someone saw us.”

“Do you know who?” asked the fireman.

“No,” said the teacher, “but I’m pretty sure it was a pupil because all the teachers here are tall enough to look through the doors without having to jump or stand on their tip toes.”

“But why would a pupil be here so late?” asked another teacher.

“The track team stays after school for practise,” said other teacher. “Maybe it was one of them. We’ll get the names of all the members who were at practise today and yesterday.”

Nearly all the track kids were sick yesterday, so I would be questioned for sure. What was I supposed to do?

Neither the teachers nor the firemen had left the school, probably waiting for me to make myself visible to them, so I had to wait for nightfall until it was dark enough for me to descend my tree, escape through a nearby hedge and return home at midnight.

This time, Mother was pissed. “I’ve just gotten off the phone with the police! Where the hell were you?!”

I wanted to tell her what had happened but I broke down and cried instead, terrified of what lay in store for me tomorrow. Mother hugged me and phoned the police again to tell them I’d returned safely, though that was a lie: I wasn’t safe.

Phoning the police sounds like the sensible thing to do, but I’m just a kid, so why would anyone believe that I’d witnessed three teachers performing stomach surgery on a girl without using anesthetic or that the firemen seemed to be in on it? Skipping school and running away seemed like the best choice for my safety, but I and I alone knew that there was a girl being tortured or something, and if I was in her shoes, I’d want someone to save me.

When I showered in the morning, I noticed that I’d cut myself on the door glass during my escape. Maybe no one would notice.

“Come with me,” said the principal, the moment I stepped off the morning school bus.

The principal made me sit alone in the waiting room while my heart palpitated and I came close to fainting. Did the principal know about the three teachers. Should I say what I saw? What if the principal was in on it, but then again, what if the principal could help the girl?

I watched the clock for an hour. Was the secretary watching me the whole time? How are you supposed to look when you’re not suspicious? I walked around and looked at books to make myself less bored.

“Sit down and don’t make any noise,” said the secretary.

Another hour later, the principal returned and led me to the principals office, where I was told to sit in an old wooden chair. The three teachers who had tortured the girl stood behind the principal and stared at me.

“We’re sorry to make you wait so long,” said the principal, sitting in a magnificent comfy chair. “I had things to deal with. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.”

“It beats being in class,” I joked, trying to sound nonchalant, “but it was also really boring. Is everything ok?”

“No,” said the principal, matter-of-factly. “Someone broke a door window with a fire extinguisher and pulled the fire alarm yesterday.”

“When?” I asked.

“After school,” said the principal, “and you’re on the track team, which stays late to practise.”

“I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I lied. “After practise, I showered and left. Have you all ready asked the rest of the team?”

“Did you go home right away?” asked the principal, ignoring my question about the rest of the team.

“Yes,” I lied.

The three teachers exchanged glances and said nothing. The principal leaned towards me and said: “you’re lying. Your mother filed a missing persons report yesterday because you hadn’t come home. So where were you, really?”

The teachers leaned towards me as well.

“Well,” I said, and I scrambled to think of what I could say. “I’ll tell you but only if they leave.”

The principal looked at the teachers, who nodded and left. So now I was alone with the principal. Could he be trusted? The teachers were “witnesses” to the pulled fire alarm last night so it made sense for them to be here this morning. The fact that the principal had police information on me was highly suspect though. For the moment, I denied trust and had to think of an amazing lie.

“Well,” I said. “The other kids are really mean to me, so…”

“So, what?” asked the principal.

“So…” I stalled until I thought of my plausible lie: “I… tried to kill myself.”

“What?” The principal was genuinely alarmed.

“Here’s where I tried,” I said, pointing to where the glass had cut me during yesterday’s escape. “I used glass shards from a broken Coke bottle.”

“This is very serious,” said the principal.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” I begged. “I just get so sad sometimes and I don’t want the kids to know that their teasing really gets to me.”

“I can’t ignore this,” said the principal. “I have to phone your parents and you’ll need to see the school nurse to discuss what to do next. I’ll tell the coach that you’ll be absent from practise today and we’ll meet with the nurse right away.”

I had come up with a rock solid alibi, but now there was no way I would be without adult supervision, meaning I had no way to check up on the tortured girl and the three sadistic teachers.

“Wait!” I pleaded, scrambling for another lie. “Track is the only thing in my life that makes me happy. Please don’t make me miss track.”

The principal appeared skeptical but said: “ok” in the interest of professionalism.

So Mother came in and we sat with the school nurse to discuss psychiatric treatment for my suicidal tendencies and did bullshit picture worksheets on how I could best deal with my problems and emotions.

I was excused from class for the day, but track practise was cancelled because most of the track team was away again. It seemed weird that they would be away again but since I’d missed class, I don’t know what the reason was. I had no reasonable excuse whatsoever to be at school after hours.

“Come on, Darling,” said Mother. “Let’s go the movies and then we’ll have some pizza.”

“Hold on, Mother, I’d better grab my history book so I can study,” I lied.

“I’m coming with you,” said Mother.

“You can’t,” I lied.

“Give me one good reason why not,” she replied. She thought her child was suicidal, so her behaviour was sadly validated.

“What if the other kids laugh at me?” I said.

Mother started to cry and said: “please come back,” and didn’t hug me in case the other kids saw.

I felt really bad for lying to Mother when she was clearly worried about me but I needed to at least check one more time for anything fishy that might be going on at the moment. School was in session and it wasn’t even lunch yet, so I don’t know what I expected to find, but then I saw her: the tortured girl

She was walking to the girls bathroom by herself. Her posture was solemn, her head was pointed to the ground, her stomach must have been somewhat in tact, and she didn’t see me until I spoke to her.

“You have to come with me,” I pleaded.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m the one who pulled the fire alarms. I was trying to save you. Whatever they’re doing to you, we have to tell the police.”

She silenced me immediately and scribbled furiously on a notepad: “It was all the police’s idea and now that they know someone knows, they’re going to speed up the system. They’ve all ready started on two other kids. They can hear everything I hear and say.”

“What are they doing?” I whispered.

Before she could answer, we both saw one of the sadistic teachers looking right at us. The teacher took great strides to walk towards us. The tortured girl excused herself to the washroom and I ran back to where I left my Mother, hugging her tightly like I was suicidal and watching the teacher walk past us nonchalantly.

The movie was boring and the pizza was stale, but I had to give Mother credit for trying. She didn’t even smoke up that night - she just tried to engage me in card games and ice cream until it was time to go to sleep. I didn’t sleep.

If the police could really hear everything the tortured girl was saying, I can only imagine the terrible price she’s paying right now if they find out how much she told me. It wouldn’t take long for the teachers to tell the police that I’m the one she was talking to, so I’m surprised I’m not dead or arrested, unless they don’t consider me a viable threat. I’m just a kid. Who’s going to believe me? I’m also suicidal, according to my school papers, so anything I say will just be considered some psychological nonsense brought about by my non-existent depression.

….and it’s nearly time for me to go to school again. What should I do?