His name was Mason. He was my babysitter's son; he was a white, dirty blonde haired boy, who was very short for a 4th grader. He was an only child like me, and I thought we would have many things in common. I was wrong, so very wrong. We were complete opposites, and after being at his home for about 3 weeks, he rudely started reminding me about it. One day he was a little meaner than usual. I was used to his verbal abuse but things got physical rather quickly.

We were playing with his Harry Potter themed legos after school and while we were playing he said,
"You're fat and ugly! No one could ever love you! If they do, they’re stupid like you!"

   Of course as any child would do, I attempted to stand up for myself.

I said, "I am not! I'm just a little, uh, bigger and stronger than you."  Saying I was stronger turned out to be the worst mistake of my life.

"Fine.  Since you're so strong, let's fight!".  He'd hit me and I would do the best blocking as I could. His punches felt like a gunshot in my stomach, but the words he said to me brought an indescribable pain not only in my heart, but also in my soul.

  "Not so strong now, huh?" he laughed. "You're like my own personal punching bag! That's all you'll ever be good for!"   My eyes became clouds on a stormy night and would release water for hours at a time.  When we ate dinner that night, he stared at the serrated knife on the table and then at me, As if he was watching a grandfather clock swing back and forth. He looked as if he had an idea, and after dinner I found out that he did. We were in this little room, with a desk, a computer, what seemed like important papers, and a huge television set. His father, Richard White, was handling business on the computer. To keep us kids busy he gave us the instructions to organize everything. While I was moving a pair of headphones, Mason pulled out the serrated knife from dinner and tried slamming it down on my wrist. Luckily, I had cat like reflexes back then and moved my hand.  Fear was running constantly in my mind, as he continued to try and stab me with the knife. I was running away from him screaming, "Stop! Cut it out, Mason.  Quit!" His dad sat on his computer motionless, not seeing what Mason was trying to do to me. I felt as if I was in space and no one could hear my hopeless cries for help. Mason pushed me onto the ground; I was horrified. It was Not like a scary movie when you know that the villain isn't real, more like when your home alone and you hear a noise, not knowing if someone is in the house.To get him to stop, I violently pinched his upper ankle.

Mason hollered in pain saying,  "Ouch! God I hate you! You ruined my life!"  I must have came back to Earth during my purge practice with mason. Within seconds of his screams Richard turned away from the computer looking at us, and his mom, Stephanie, stormed into the room yelling at me saying, "What did you do!”
Mason yelled, "She pinched me, mom! She pinched me!" As a punishment she made us sit down and stare at each other, we weren't allowed to talk or move. He looked me in the eyes and mouthed  "I'm gonna kill you!" repeatedly. That night when my mom came to pick me up, his parents explained what they thought happened. When I got into the car, my mom yelled at me with disappointment and furiousness in her voice saying, "why would you pinch him Pameliyah?!" I didn't know whether to stay silent during her sentencing with me, but I decided to tell her what happened. I tried to muster my words and explain the situation but she constantly interrupted me so I just blurted out, "He pulled a knife on me, mom!”

"Why didn't you say that in there?" She said sounding less disappointed and a little more furious. I told her  that I was scared of Mason and that I've felt this way for awhile, so I stopped going to that baby sitter.  I was extremely excited that I'd never have to see Mason and his family again. Looking back on that memory now, I realized because of him telling me I was ugly and fat, I started believing him. From the moment I stopped living with them, I looked at myself through his eyes. I  began to feel extreme remorse, anytime someone called me beautiful I would lie to myself and act as if I believed it. I started cutting myself, every time I remembered him the words he said and the feeling of his gunshot like punches came flooding back to me like Florida in hurricane season. I can't look at a serrated knife the same, because it reminds of that day. That day will be with me till the day I migrate into the heavens. I can never move on, or attempt to forget about it until I have the satisfaction of understanding why he did the things he did to me. God only knows if I’ll ever understand why he did those things to me. If I never understand why, I'll just keep doing what I've been doing the past 3 years, wait patiently till I receive an answer.