I was around five years old when it happened. I was walking home from the babysitter’s
house and decided to take the long way, because it was different. That’s when a few of the older neighborhood boys
surrounded me just up the street from my house.
They held my arms behind my back and took turns punching me in the
stomach. To this day I don’t know what possessed them: maybe I said something,
maybe I was dressed the wrong way, maybe it was my turn, or maybe it was just
because I was five and they were the big kids on the block. Getting jumped sucks. But it especially sucks
when the safety of home is within sight.
Just a half a block more and I was walking in the door, grabbing a
snack, and lounging on the couch. But
no, not that day. Instead I was
absorbing blows from clenched fists with my intestines. All because I decided to take the long way
home.
