Thread by @Cobratate

When I was 8 years old.

A couple of 10-year-olds used to bully me on the school bus.

One day I started crying to my dad saying I didn’t want to get the bus.

I told him why.

He sat, drinking whiskey and playing chess at 9 am.

Didn’t even look at me cry.

He replied…

“Your lunch box is sharp son. Go to school”

I was too afraid not to listen to my father. So I obeyed

He didn’t give sympathy. Didn’t even seem to care. Didn’t show remorse. Didn’t ask the kids’ names. Nothing.

It was here I realized no one was going to save me. It was up to me

That afternoon on the ride home they started as usual. Pulling my backpack from behind and calling me names.

I sat there and didn’t say anything. Hoping they’d stop.

10min in one slapped me on the side of my face.

I remember the sting to this day. And my ear was ringing.

I sat in silence. Stinging face

A few mins later at my stop - I stood and swung my plastic Batman lunchbox as hard as I could

I caught the kid right above his eye. Keith was his name

And like a boxer’s cut from a prize fight

His eyelid began squirting blood all over the bus

I remember his screams. And the look of pure horror on his friend’s face.

I sprinted and ran straight off the bus.

The cut was deep. The blood thick. He will be scared for life to this day.

I ran so fast I didn’t notice that my lunch box had actually shattered.

When I got back I held a handle and a piece of shattered plastic.

Barely resembling the square it was

My dad was in the same place as was when I left

Lotus position

Still playing himself at chess

He would play himself for hours and hours. Trying to defeat his own mind.

He turned around when I came in and saw the broken lunch box…

He stood up and said.

“Get in the car”.

The ride was silent. He didn’t ask me what happened.

He took me to Walmart and asked me to pick a new one.

I picked the same one I had before.

“I’ll buy you as many of these as you need, son”

We went home. A normal evening.

But I was too scared to sleep.

The next day I sat at the back of the bus.

Ready to swing. To fight. Both of them. Head on.

But the kids didn’t come.

But I never saw those kids again.

Keith never returned to school. His friend stopped taking the bus.

In all my years of school, I never had to break another lunch box.

My dad never ever saved me from anything.

He sent me to fight. Alone

RIP Emory Tate