Pain is thrust threw the hearts of millions. For some it may be the remembrance of loved one’s who may have passed. For others, maybe a contemplation of a brother a war. But pain has a definition. For you see, everyone defines it differently. Everyone’s definition is completely different from anyone else. My definition is different. More like extraordinary. The definition of pain may be unclear in your mind, but it’s all too real in mine.

I needed help. I needed someone to listen. I needed someone to care. But sometimes to get the things you need, you have to go to drastic measures. I was about to get myself in a lot of trouble.

The phone rang. Mr. Matalsa ran to get it. All of a sudden the gym was silent. Basket balls where stopped from being thrown. Whistles where prevented from blowing, and all of the students stood still. He answered it.

“Hello…. Uh huh…. Uh yes she is... do you want her down… yes… okay bye.” He was staring at me. My body was tense. My hands where shacking, I could sense eyes upon my back. He pointed to me, then the door, then said

“Go to the social workers office.”

A gasp from surrounding students made the whole gym uncomfortable. As I walked out I herd students whispering and laughing and joking. One boy, who I absolutely hate, whispered to one of his friends,

“It’s probably about her sisters.”

I wanted to punch him in the neck. My triplet sisters, should have never been brought up into a conversation. Let alone be in a conversation only meant for two boys. It was a long walk to the social workers office. Not to mention it was the middle of December, and I was walking around in gym shorts and a tee shirt.

Mrs. Birk's office was down a long hallway, passed halls of locker, and classrooms. I never really meet with her before so I wondered why I was down there. As I walked into her office I saw she had another student. She excused herself and shoved me into the hallway.

“So,” she said in her friendliest voice, “I got an email from one of your teachers saying you got a note in your locker, and that it was serious.” I nodded. “ Do you still have it?”
“It’s at home I got it yesterday, on Tuesday,” I answered.

“Oh okay,” she paused, “well that’s fine, and can you bring it to me?”

“Sure I guess so” I retorted back.

“Come back down here if you get another one. Okay bye.” She faded back into her office. I began my long walk back up to the gym, yet as I walked, I just thought. I didn’t even acknowledged the fact that anyone was in the hallway. I just walked and thought. I thought about how the night before I did send an email to my fifth grade teacher, explaining that I got a note in my locker from this person who needed help. I just thought I could keep it between us but now it got to the social worker and soon its going to move to the dean of students, and then to the principle and if it’s serious enough, to our school police officer. I was motionless. The pain through my body, was excruciating. The pain coursed threw my heart, and pumped threw my veins. This is what pain feels like.

The next day I spent more then half my time in school it in the office. In the morning, around 10:30, I was in science class and the phone rang. My heart sank. Earlier that morning I received another letter. But I didn’t tell any one. Mrs. Rutherford picked it up. It was for a girl in my class. She forgot her lunch at home. Mrs. Rutherford told her to wait until lunch to go get it.

I leaned back in my chair, and worked on my science project. The period was going fine. I talked to friends, finished my science project, and even finished some of my homework. But then the phone rang, again. It was for me. I got up and started toward the door when Mrs. Rutherford said,

“Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah I only have to go to the social workers office. It’s not that big of a deal.” I answered.

“Oh, no you have to go to the office. Down to Mr. Carpenters office.” She said with uncertainty. I started walking, but I just couldn’t move my feet. The pain was back. But now it was in my heart. I started crying. I finally gained control of my feet, and ran. I ran down the hall, ran down the stairs, and finally ran so fast I fell, in front of the office. I got up and walked in.

I sat on the hard uncomfortable couch, but there was someone else on the other end. He was an eight grader, who I worked with in the all school play.

“Hey Glen.” I said

“Oh hey,” he paused, “So, why you down here?”

“Well it’s kinda personal,” I said.

“Oh, sorry, I…I didn’t know,” he said

“That’s okay,” I started, “hey do you have a pen and a piece of paper?”

“Yeah I do.” He opened his binder and found a notebook and a green pen.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

“Yeah that’s fine. Do you know how to play hangman?” I asked.

“Yeah, who doesn’t,” he said back.

“Good,” I said. We played hangman for ten minutes, then he went to the principles office. I was left there playing hangman by myself. Then I was called down to Mr. Carpenter’s office. When I got there, there where two other people in the room, Mrs. Birk and Officer Alexander. I sat in the chair closest to the door. Mr. Carpenter has a very small office and every time I was in there, I always felt claustrophobic. This is what pain looks like. Mr. Carpenter started,

“So, Mrs. Birk told me that you where getting some pretty scary notes in your locker. Is that right?” I nodded. “ Okay do you have them?” I dug in my jacket pocket, and pulled out three notes. He read them. The first one was about a kid asking for help. This kid was tired of living a life not worth living. This kid needed help. The second one was pointed towards themselves.

They where going to hurt themselves if I didn’t help them but didn’t know who they where. So we gave the letters to the language arts teachers to see if they could identify the handwriting. No luck. The next letter was aimed towards me. This person was going to hurt me if I didn’t help them. So now Officer Alex was involved. Now it was a threat letter. They all decided it was best that I switch lockers.

I had locker 2067 now I have locker 2078. We all went up to the third floor. By this time it was fourth period. Meaning everyone was either at gym, Spanish, art, orchestra, band, or music. Meaning no one was in the seventh grade hallway. We moved all my supplies in twenty minutes. Now, no one saw me get a new locker. After the locker switch I went to advisory and lunch. But when I came back from the cafeteria to get my stuff for math out came another note. I froze. Hoping no one noticed I grabbed it and stuffed it into my math spiral. I asked my math teacher if I could go down to the social work. She signed a pass and let me go. I dashed to the office. Mr. Carpenter was waiting for me. I walked to his office and of course Mrs. Birk and Officer Alex where there. Again, I sat in the chair closest to the door.

“We know you’re scared, and that’s okay. But is there something your not telling us?” Mr. Carpenter started. I paused.

“Are you suggesting that I’m lying, well I’m not this is all to real. The last letter I got said the kid wanted to kill me! Kill me!” I was silent.

“I know what the letter said, and I know you’re scared, but the pieces just don’t fit together.” Officer Alex said.

“How do they not fit together there perfectly fine.” I said. For the next hour or so I went back and forth between them, arguing about how the pieces fit and how this was just so stupid. But I knew the pieces most defiantly did not fit together. I sent the letter to my fifth grade teacher on Monday. Mr. carpenter went in my locker and got the exact notebook that I played hangman in. He matched up the paper in the notebook to the notes. My notebooks bottom line was smaller then a normal notebook. Perfect match. There was no one in the hallway when I changed lockers, and I didn’t go to my locker until math, which is when I found the last note.

“Fine, to solve this problem we can just take finger print samples of the paper, and send the off to the police,” Officer Alex started, “then it would be in the hands of the police. And you know it’s illegal to send a fake police report.” I couldn’t move I stared down as he kept talking. My eyes started tearing, the pain came back in my lungs. All of a sudden I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breath. After ten minutes of staring a not breathing, Mrs. Birk spoke for the first time in the whole day,

“We need you to tell us what happened.”

“I told you what happened, I don’t know anything else,” I spoke in a whisper.

“ There’s is something missing,” Mr. Carpenter said. He got up and went to his desk and pulled out a piece of paper with typed words on it. “Do you know what this is?” He asked. I grabbed it from his hand.

“It’s…. my email, that I sent to my fifth grade teacher. How, did you get it?” I was stunned.
“That doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that this was sent on Monday,” He said, “but the thing is, you said you sent on a Tuesday.” He figured it out, but I wasn’t about to give in. I didn’t speak I just looked up at Officer Alex, then to Mrs. Birk. Then I stared hard at Mr. Carpenter, until I couldn’t take it and screamed. They where shocked. It was a high, long scream, which I didn’t even recognize.

“Yes, I did it. I wrote the notes.” I said. I cried. They reassured me that it was better now that I tell them now then if they found out later. But I didn’t care. They said they where going to call my mom and tell her. They told me to wait in the conference room as they get this whole situation straight. I waited in the conference room. I sat in the chair and for a while pretended I was in a metering. But that didn’t last long until the pain came back, and stared controlling my thoughts. I started thinking about everything.

About how I would eventually have to go in counseling for what I wrote. About how eventually I would have to talk to my mom about it. About how I would have to tell my friends. Since I already told them what started then I would have to tell them how it ended. Lastly I just thought. I thought about my life from here I though about crawling in a hole and dying. The closest thing I could get to that was crawling under the table and laying on the ground. So I did. I laid there for an hour or so. They brought me lunch. But I didn’t eat. They brought me my homework. But I wouldn’t even look at it. Then after another hour of laying their Mrs. Birk came in. She looked around.

“Where are you?” she said. Then she walked around to the table. “ Can you come up on your chair, I’m wearing a skirt,” she said. I got up, sat in my chair and turned it to face the wall.

“Okay I need to see your face,” she said. I turned around. “Good, now just nod yes or no when I ask you these questions. Okay?” I nodded. “First question, do you really mean those things you said in those letters?” I nodded. She wrote something in her notebook. “Next question, do you think about hurting yourself?” I nodded. She wrote more in her notebook “Last question. Why did you do this?” I paused.

“That’s not a yes or no question. I did it well, because I had to do it.”

“You ha,” but before she could finish her sentence the door opened. The secretary needed the conference for a group of teacher. I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door. But in that group of teachers I saw Mrs. Hughes, my math teacher. I glared at her as I walked passed. She had an expression that only tears could illustrate. When I walk into Mr. Carpenter’s office I saw my mom, and instantly looked down.

Mr. Carpenter talked about what happened, in detail. I wish I wasn’t there. I wish I was invisible. But most of all I wished that my friends where in the room. For that whole day adults, no kids, just adults well except Glen but he was only an eighth grader. It was now eighth period. I had spent my entire day in his office.

As I walked out I was told to go upstairs and get my stuff. I made Mr. Carpenter do it. I didn’t want to be scene up there. Then I was told I wasn’t allowed to come back to school until I get a safety assessment. I wasn’t safe on school grounds. Technically meaning they don’t want my dead body on there premises. Because that leads to lawsuits.

I had to sit in the hard uncomfortable couch again. I saw Glen. He was sitting on the couch with his stuff.

“Hey Glen,” I said with a sigh.

“Hey,” he sighed back.

“Long day?” I asked

“Yeah and painful. You have no idea,” he said.

But I did. I did have an idea. Because threw out that day I experienced pain, that was unexplainable. I had no idea how to explain it. But now when I look back on this whole dilemma I know how to explain it. In full, and unexplainable details.

Pain: the overwhelming sensation of sadness and anxiety. It can control you emotionally and physically. Pain is different in any case. But you will experience pain at least one time in life. If you don’t, then you must live the happiest life ever. Because well, I sure don’t.