First and foremost, I will say this:
Bullies are cunts. No exceptions. There is never, ever an excuse for persecuting someone and, if you've bullied someone, you'll get yours. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will.

My story is not as unpleasant or unsettling as some of them told here, but it's something that affects me still today from time to time; when I get a bit low, it all comes back to me. I will admit here and now this is a pearoast with bits added. It's also very, very long.

When I was a smaller Maladicta of about eleven, there was another new kid who joined our class at school. However, he was the total opposite of Stalker Boy, in that for some reason I still don't fully understand, he immediately took against me and made it his life's work to make me feel as miserable and unwelcome within about ten feet of him as possible. And by some horribly perverse twist of fate, I had a little girlie crush on him (do you ever wish that you could go back in time and slap your younger self silly? I do). He knew this all too well, and used it to his advantage to make things as difficult as possible for me. We shall call him Luke, for that was his name.

He quickly became extremely popular with the teachers, for as well as being "charming" and sweet to all outward appearances, he was a straight-A student who always did his homework and never got anything below 80% in an exam. He also became extremely popular with the girls in my year, not because he was attractive (he looked like an anorexic mole, or Rachelswipe's starving baby bird description) but because he was apparently very good at giving advice and was a good laugh. Over the course of the next few years, he managed to turn the entire school year, bar a couple of people (Stalker Boy, clearly, used to switch sides and would always delight in telling me what he'd said), but in the end they'd always cave to pressure and end up joining in.

Luke specialised not in physical violence, mainly because he was a weed of epic proportions, but he was a master at messing with your head. His favourite tricks were to steal my homework out of my desk or out of my books to make me look stupid when I came to hand it in, before saying "Oooo she's not done it, you should punish her, sir", hiding my books and homework planner (which if you lost for more than about a day every single teacher would throw a shitfit about), hacking my network user (in reality just leaning over my shoulder when I typed in my password, I suppose) and copying all my stuff onto the common drive (not that I had anything offensive on there, which didn't deter him because he just made textfiles saying "I, [Maladicta], love [History Teacher] and want his babies!!111" which got me into trouble), claimed to have hacked into my (locked) former blog and read all my secrets, yet was unable to produce evidence, repeatedly "went out" with (in other words, held hands with constantly, this was Year 9) my slaggy ex-best "friend" simply to mess with my head, and it was him who announced that I was "in love" with my history teacher to the entire school at the swimming gala, inventing a girlfriend who was "a model", when really her picture was just cut out of Sugar (this had no effect other than making me laugh at how far he was willing to go, including setting up a fake email account for her to yell at me off), in between telling me that he and no one else would ever love me or want to have sex with me because I was so fat and useless and ugly.

Why didn't I tell anyone? Because I knew I'd get no sympathy from anyone and because if I told any teachers, it would be my word against his and I already knew what a capable and manipulative liar he was. All it would have taken was a couple of tears from him, and I would be the bad guy. It just wasn't worth it.

By Year 10, then, I was a wreck; no self-confidence at all, virtually no friends (unless you count Stalker Boy, and I don't), no life outside of school other than the ones I made online (who were a great help to me, and I'm still in touch with a lot of them). I'm merely focused on one thing: getting him to leave me alone and to finally quit hurting me. By this stage, everyone and their dog had MSN and he'd bugged me on it for some time, not least when anyone I liked (he always seemed to find out) got a girlfriend, and one day, after enjoying taunting me because I was "on the shelf, where you'll always be" I finally snapped and told him he was a manipulative, twisted bastard who didn't deserve to live, and that I hated him and hoped he died. The ensuing row continued for about five minutes, with him mocking me, saying I "always have to be the tragic victim" and telling me how pathetic I was to even think anyone cared about me. And finally, I got a backbone. BLOCK.

This was just before the start of Year 11, and by then, something had snapped inside me and I was refusing to take any more of his crap. I blocked every single email address he'd ever used to annoy me, deleted him off my MSN and made it clear to anyone who talked to me that if they added him into the conversation, I would do the same to them. He found ways to get around this, like getting his cousin's friend, who just happened to be a lesbian (he was trying to convince me that the reason no one would go out with me was because I was secretly gay) to chat me up over MSN, and when he was mentioned "he just wants to be your friend". I ignored him at school to the point of not even registering he'd said anything to me, and not even acknowledging his existence by the end of the year. Gradually, I felt better, and this was made even better one evening when I was talking to a newish friend of mine online (hello Pete) and he said "look, Luke wants me to add him in, if he says anything mean you can leave straight away but he says it's important". I reluctantly agree, and he says (and this is why I hate people who type like this over the internets - why type like a retard if you're supposed to be so intelligent?) "after GCSE, im movin 2 Canada!!!".

One victory lap of the house later, I sit down at the PC again and type "oh that's nice."

Of course, as soon as word got out that he was leaving, there was teenage drama aplenty: girls clinging to him begging him not to leave, saying they'd miss him soooooo much and that he had to come back to visit, and then telling me I was "heartless" for saying I wouldn't miss "lovely" Luke.

Finally, he was gone, and life went on like it had done before, but with a lot less angsting, bar a letter he sent me (address courtesy - surprise surprise - of Stalker Boy), saying that he had only ever picked on me "because u were different" and trying to justify his actions by saying "I didn't know how 2 treat u other than 2 be mean 2 u and I still think ur bein harsh cuz u won't talk 2 me" (he actually wrote like this, in posh fountain pen, it was quite surreal). I think part of it was that we were all growing up, and bar the odd mention of his name, and Stalker Boy mooning over how much he missed him (he fancied him, I later discovered), things were pretty much as good as they could be. He came back to England for the last week we were all at school and true to form, picked up exactly where he left off, meaning I got a lot of texts from him wanting to "meet up" and saying he couldn't wait to see me on Friday. I don't mind admitting I ignored him, just as I used to, that Friday, and never said a word to him the entire day: not that he would have needed it, being surrounded by his entourage yet again. And so, I left the school confident that he would never see me or be able to hurt me again.

In the intervening two years, my ex-best friend (who I refer to here as Slag of the Universe, because, well, she was), had taken his place as ringleader (most likely being told what to do and say by him, since she had the most contact with him). I found out through a variety of methods that she was spitting venom about me behind my back (while keeping up a façade of us still being bestest friends) - among other things picking on my driving skills (did I write off my car, bitch? No, that was you), my lack of sexytiem (could my first boyfriend not keep it up when confronted with me naked for the first time? No, that was you), the fact I refused to be set up with her latest victim boyfriend's ugly mate ("I'm not a charity case, fuck off!"), and the fact I got on well with my (female, sarcastic, Python fan and generally awesome) Latin teacher, which clearly meant I was a raving dyke. She was also livid that I'd made more of an effort to look nice for the lower sixth ball and - oh noes! - had got more compliments than her. This was what really kicked it off and she spent the next year systematically worming her way between me and any other friends I had, spreading her insidious poison and making sure everyone thought it was that I didn't like them trying to take her away from me. All the time still being sweetness and light to me to my face, although I could barely restrain myself from breaking hers, and whining "Why does Maladicta hate me?" to anyone who'd listen - mostly Stalker Boy, and even he was better company than her. The last time I saw her was her 18th birthday, when I didn't even acknowledge knowing it was that day, and have not spoken to her from that day to this. I hear she's engaged, and even though I try to forgive, it's hard to forget the two-faced bitch who said I'd die a virgin and told the whole school I'd told her I fancied her. It was also Slag of the Universe who, many years previously, had told Luke I fancied History Teacher, so I have no idea why I considered her a friend for years after that, let alone didn't cunt her in the fuck for saying that. As much as I try to rise above wishing ill on people, I seriously hope her fiancé jilts her for a woman who actually has norks and a personality that extends beyond being hilariously "random".

Two months after the end of school, quite late in the evening, I get several missed calls on my phone, all from "Stalker Boy Home". We still had dialup at the time, so I disconnect and call him back, figuring he wants to talk about our up and coming trip of nightmares to Spain (if there's ever another Holidays from Hell, I will talk about this too). I get his mum, who asks to talk to mine, and after about five minutes, mum puts her hand over the receiver and informs me in hushed tones that Luke is dead. The phone then gets passed to me, and all I hear is the sobbing of Stalker Boy, interspersed with odd words that sound like "forgive and forget" and "he never meant you any harm". Eventually he manages to tell me what happened, that there was an accident on some highway where he was living, and that the car was totalled. My first thought, I'm ashamed to say, was "Karma's a bitch", and it's a belief I continue to have to this day.

I'd like to say it's made me a better person, although I'm genuinely not sure: I have hangups, the same as anyone else and it has affected me in ways I still don't fully understand. Tell someone they're ugly, fat and useless and no one will ever love them for six years and they will believe it - trust me, I'm living proof of this. The thing I do to try and put it behind me is to look at the successes I've had: I got away from them, I went to a good uni, have a decent degree and a job I like (usually) that pays the bills, I moved away from my parents, which they were sure I'd never do, and sure, while Mr Maladicta and I are no longer together, we live together as best friends and it works well, much better than Slag of the Universe, who repaid her first boyfriend for his time by pouring a bottle of Matey through his letterbox one Friday evening and burning his favourite CD - he said the "bubble" had gone out of the relationship (read: "I've fucked you, you can go away now"). My life is infinitely better for having removed them from it (as I said in reply to another post "My Facebook block list is as long as Ron Jeremy's cock").

The best revenge is a happy life. Or a Gattling crossbow.
( Maladicta, Wed 13 May 2009, 23:42, 14 replies)

I can build you a gattling crossbow.
It won't be *that* fast, but I know exactly how to do it. I'll even provide you with ana alibi for when you hunt these people down.

Before you read this next bit - I am not a stalker! I just have a good memory. I remeber the photo's of yourself you had up on your profile a while back. You are not fat, nor ugly. And while life may not be perfect, I bet you'll end up one hell of a lot happier than him. Funny how guys like that can get away with it at that gae, but not with adults.
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Wed 13 May 2009, 23:52, closed)

^ Thanks to the magic of Facebook
I know where to find most of them, so that seems evermore tempting! In reality, any automatic weapon would do the trick, although I favour the Gattling crossbow currently. (This is when I'm not wondering what would happen at work if I set fire to a ball of scrunched up paper and threw it at Stalker Girl yelling "HADOUKEN!").

On the second point, no, I don't think you're a stalker :) I'm also very grateful for your support!
( Maladicta, Thu 14 May 2009, 0:05, closed)

"This too shall pass away..."
Been there, done that, sold the t-shirt to angry teenagers.

I attempt to temper the desire to chastise those that have wronged me by proving them all wrong and surpassing every negative expectation of me they ever expressed.

Of course, when I hit 40 and fail to meet those expectations they are all deader than a 1982 church youth group disco.

We could swap enemies?
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 14 May 2009, 0:40, closed)

Seeing so many stories like this
makes me really really sad.
You're not any of the things those people have said about you. I don't know you well but you seem to be a lovely kind girl and I don't think anybody deserves bullying of any kind.
(Poppet some assembly required., Thu 14 May 2009, 8:02, closed)

Thank you sweetie :)
It's nice to know that I'm not seen that way. I hadn't realised it still affected me that much till it came up in a review at work; something or other my manager said (after she had to send me home the week before since I was in no fit state to work after the breakup) - "someone, at some point in your life has told you you're worthless". No one deserves to be bullied; I may joke that if I'd been at school with Stalker Girl, I'd have bullied her, but I'm not serious. No one should have to suffer what I did, or any of us here.
( Maladicta, Sat 16 May 2009, 0:52, closed)

Karma?
I'd say it was a perfect ending to the story. Karma is a better author than any of us here. *hug*
(LittleWhiteTreat, Thu 14 May 2009, 8:35, closed)

*hug* When I posted this
on the Karma QOTW, someone told me that it was the most fitting end to him - he was too evil to live, so he didn't. Truer words never spoken.
( Maladicta, Sat 16 May 2009, 0:53, closed)

Hmm.
That sounds uncannily similar to my schooldays. I would think you were me, only you sound much more together. Good for you :)
(berk, Thu 14 May 2009, 16:30, closed)

It makes me sad to see
how many of us have suffered similarly :( gaz me if you ever want to swap cuntish bully stories!
( Maladicta, Sat 16 May 2009, 0:54, closed)

I'm going for
the revenge of being as successful and happy as I can.

Good on you for doing the same... Oh, yeah, it may not have made you a better person, but it made you who you are. And from what I can gather, who you are is pretty good.
(Psyche finishes work at the end of June! Yay!!!, Fri 15 May 2009, 12:32, closed)

Thank you :)
Are you new around these parts? I don't believe I've seen you before. Welcome, if that's the case :)
( Maladicta, Sat 16 May 2009, 0:53, closed)

That "ignore them completely" strategy works well
I did it for about a year, 2-3 years ago. Worked like a charm. WIthin a few months, the bully in question (a bully that mainly worked on their own) was simply embrassaing himself whenever he spouted some bollocks that received no reply whatsoever from me (about from the occasional comically half-raised eyebrow).
( ejlflop errrrrgs. Regularly., Mon 18 May 2009, 21:30, closed)

He fucking hated it.
And I thought it was brilliant; he thrived totally on attention from everyone, so to have me totally ignore him used to send him into apoplexy "Maaaaalaaaaadiiiiiictaaaaaaa... why won't you talk to meeeeeee?" "..." "Maaaaalaaaaadiiiiiiiiiictaaaaaaaaaaa?".

Except in class, where I would have to if it was asked of me, but outside of that it was like he didn't exist :D so satisfying.
( Maladicta, Tue 19 May 2009, 20:43, closed)

I'm also a proponent of the 'ignoring' stratergy.
However, this will probably only work if the bullies do it because they're bored rather than because they're on a campaign to torment you. In my teenaged years on my school bus (1 hour each way), I went through phases of being bullied. Usually just low to medium intensity psychological bullying with the occasional bit of physicalness thrown in for good measure (nothing like some of the stories posted this week). I found that if I adopted a more laid-back or 'meh' attitude (i.e. one that didn't involve me trying to get my own back), it would usually die down. Of course, this is easier said than done.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 21 May 2009, 1:39, closed)