I am reminded of the number of times I tried to make him kill me, I thought it would end everything.
There was a period where when he lost his temper, I would push his buttons, react in ways I knew would make him even more angry in the hope he would lose control. So many times I would black out only to wake later, often in pitch darkness.
I discovered the power of silence and non-reaction. When a bully gets their kicks from inflicting pain and suffering, the only weapon you have is to take away that reaction. By going silent regardless of how hard I was hit and staring defiantly at him, i was urging him to let go and end it all.
There were times when I would end up out of school for days at a time after one of these, in a lot of pain and barely able to move. But I felt defiant and vowed to push him even more the next time. By the time I neared primary school I had this down to an artform. But it never stopped.
He would sometimes have someone else have a go at me, I didnt have the same ability to be as resilient then. And these people knew enough to keep marks away from where people could see them but bring the pain to an 11. On the occasions I was brought somewhere I could see a special look on his face and I knew it was going to be bad.
My outlook was simple, either they inflict pain which I already endure and can keep enduring OR they kill me. Either way was to me a known entity. What I didnt bank on was the ability of evil people to find new ways to inflict pain to levels I had never experienced before.
Once in the room, I remember a clothes iron being used on my stomach. I still have the scars today, it wasnt the pain that was so scary, it was the smell and the look on the assailants face, the pure pleasure he was getting from it. When yo know you are not in control and you are completely at the mercy of someone else, thats when death seems a way out. I wish it had come