I was marched to the head teacher and my parents were called. I sat in Mrs Patrick’s office, surrounded by adults, talking more about me than to me. I felt so small. What had the SH driven me to do now? It was like it took hold of me, I had never felt so protective. Yes there was the physical pain of her actually touching me, but somehow there was more to it than that. Like her hand was made of some corrosive chemical. She had invaded me, invaded my body more than I thought was possible. Kelli’s left arm was all that had destroyed me, now my left arm was all I had keeping me going. It was a gut instinct to get her off it. I knew she couldn’t have felt anything, not through my jumper, now a permanent part of my uniform. But there was something in me that knew she could not touch it. It wasn’t my body anymore, it was my canvas, my lifeline, mine to destroy as I wished; and she could not touch it. The adults stared, muttered and schemed. Twittering about how I had dome something unforgivable and that expulsion from the school was a perfectly liable option. They were coming closer and closer to the idea until someone, my mind was blank as to whom, reminded the committee about Kelli. I couldn’t believe that they had overlooked it, but they had, and now that was the one thing that was going to save me. They sighed and ‘aahhed’ and concluded that I had been badly affected by the ‘traumatic experience’ and that under normal circumstances, I would never have done such a thing. ‘Why did you do it?’ asked my mum when we got out, ‘I don’t know’ I replied weakly and turned away. I couldn’t think of an excuse, and I couldn’t tell her the truth. ‘Come on love, you can tell me’. She was wrong. I couldn’t tell her. I never talked to her. I couldn’t tell her about this. Never. I looked down and bit my lip. That meant no and she knew it. She reached around me to give me a hug, the simplest form of affection, the most peaceful act I knew. And I flinched violently and moved my arm away. ‘What’s wrong love?’ she said, almost a whisper. ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’ ‘Nothing’ I snapped instinctively. She saw through it straight away, and she pushed it and pushed it and forced me to show her. Soon she was on the phone to a counsellor, and I was in bed, crying. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ please comment y'all. i'm bored of the big 0s.