She walked past the park in a stoic manner knowing they were following her. Any minute now they would call her names. Sticks and Stones she would say, out loud. It was something her parents had told her to do. Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.
The lonely park kept the secret she couldn’t tell her parents.
Stoic, she tried not to cry, but tears were never that far away. Control, hate and fear pushed them forward like a punch to the stomach. She tried to ignore their name calling, but they got louder until it was all she could hear.
In a few short turns she would be on the road where she lived.
She knew it was right to tell her parents, but what if it made it worse? Their words would turn into violence – she couldn’t risk that happening. She was isolated enough as it was.
As she turned into her road, they disappeared into their own. To survive another day was her only hope. Her cat greeted her and they walked the final few yards together. He was the only living thing she told her secret to. He wouldn’t tell tales.
Soon this would stop, and a change of schools would change her fortune. They were going to a different secondary and she would find another route home.
(Bullies rely on secrets being kept, but whatever the bullying, whether it be at school, work or in the home. It is important to tell someone, so that something can be done to stop it)