TL;DR: Went to my middle school reunion at 35, ran into the guy who made my life hell for three years. He had the audacity to ask me for a favor. Let’s just say… it didn’t end well.
The Setup
So there I was in February 2022, getting dragged to my middle school reunion. I hate these things – everyone pretending we were all best friends when half of us couldn’t stand each other back then. But since I work for the school district now, suddenly everyone wants to “reconnect.” Yeah, right.
The venue was this fancy banquet hall downtown. Typical reunion stuff – people showing off their careers, comparing kids, that awkward small talk. I was actually having an okay time until the door opened and he walked in.
Jake Morrison.
The name still makes my stomach drop. Medium height, buzzcut, those same bulging eyes that used to stare me down in the hallways. For a split second, I was 13 again – that scared, helpless kid who just wanted to make it through the day without getting picked on.
Jake was working the room like he owned it, backslapping old teammates, cracking jokes with the popular girls. When he spotted me in the corner, he walked straight over with this big fake smile.
“Ryan! Dude, so good to see you!” He stuck out his hand like we were old buddies.
My hand was literally shaking when I shook his. Pathetic. I thought I was over this. I thought I’d grown up, moved on. But apparently, some scars run deeper than you think.
“Thanks for coming, man. I actually organized this whole thing,” Jake said, patting my shoulder. “We should definitely catch up sometime.”
His tone was the same as always – like he was doing me some huge favor by acknowledging my existence. Like nothing had ever happened between us.
The Flashbacks Hit Hard
Sitting there watching Jake laugh and drink with everyone, all the memories came flooding back. And not the good kind.
Background: Why I Was an Easy Target
My mom died when I was 9. Dad worked construction jobs out of state, so my older sister Sarah basically raised me while working at the local factory. Plus, I was born deaf in one ear.
On the first day of 7th grade, our homeroom teacher – meaning well, I guess – announced to the whole class that I had “special circumstances” and asked everyone to “look out for me.” Cringe. Nothing says “please bully me” like your teacher announcing you’re the charity case.
That’s when Jake, sitting right behind me, poked me hard in the back and goes, “Wait, you’re deaf? Like, actually deaf?”
When I ignored him, he started muttering under his breath. Called me “deaf boy” and worse. This was day one. Three years to go.
The Dorm Room Hell
We got assigned to the same dorm room. I’m not even kidding – what are the odds?
I had the bottom bunk by the window until one day I came back from taking out trash and found all my stuff thrown on the bed by the door. Jake was sitting on MY bed, holding up my sneaker with a ruler like it was contaminated.
“Your shoes reek, deaf boy. You can sleep by the door.”
I found my other shoe filled with dirty water. But I didn’t fight it. I was 13, scared, and didn’t want to cause trouble. Big mistake.
The Daily Torture
The thing about bullying is it’s not just the big incidents – it’s death by a thousand paper cuts.
- Jake would “accidentally” cut my hair with a razor blade during class. When the teacher asked what happened, he’d go, “I was just trying to help him look less like a caveman.”
- My sister would pack me these amazing home-cooked meals on weekends – the only good food I’d get. Jake would just take them. Not ask, not trade. Just take them and share with his friends while I watched.
- He had terrible body odor but would stuff his dirty clothes under my bed every weekend. When I threw them in the hallway, he’d beat me up.
- Constant name-calling, shoving, “pranks” that were just humiliation.
The worst was when I bought my friend David a birthday present – this realistic-looking toy parrot that could repeat sounds. I’d saved up my lunch money for weeks. Jake snatched it, called it “funeral home trash,” and destroyed it in front of everyone. David just… stood there. Didn’t defend me, didn’t say anything. That’s when I realized I was truly alone.
The Adults Failed Me
I tried going to teachers. At first, they’d give Jake a slap on the wrist. But after a while, they got tired of me “complaining.”
“Boys will be boys,” they’d say. “Why don’t you just ignore him? If you keep running to us with every little thing, how are you going to handle the real world?”
So I stopped asking for help. I learned to survive by making myself invisible – first one up, last one to bed, hiding in corners during breaks, checking around every corner before going anywhere. I lived in constant fear for three solid years.
I thought about dropping out. I thought about worse things.
Fast Forward to the Reunion
Watching Jake at the reunion brought it all back. The rage, the humiliation, the feeling of being utterly powerless. I wanted to leave, but something kept me there.
Then Jake asked for my number. My number. Like we were going to be buddies now.
The “Favor”
A week later, Jake called. Wanted to meet up for dinner and drinks, said our mutual friend David would be there too. I almost said no, but… I guess I needed closure or something. So I agreed.
We met at this trendy sushi place. Jake was going on about his business in Miami, how he was moving back to town, blah blah blah. Then he got to the point.
“So Ryan, I heard you work for the school district now. I need a favor.” He leaned forward. “My daughter needs to get into Lincoln Prep [the best public school in town]. I know you guys have ways to make that happen. Money’s no object.”
He slid an envelope across the table. Thick one.
I stared at him. “That’s not how it works, Jake. She has to qualify based on her address zone and test scores.”
“Come on, man. We’re old friends, right? Just pull some strings. You know you guys do this all the time.”
Old friends. This dude who made my life hell for three years was calling us old friends.
“I can’t help you with this,” I said.
That’s when his expression changed. The fake smile dropped. “Really? You’re going to make this difficult?”
And there it was – that same look he used to give me before making my day miserable.
The Confrontation
Something snapped in me. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was 22 years of buried rage, but I looked him dead in the eye and said:
“Do you remember what you did to me in middle school?”
Jake blinked a few times, then goes, “What are you talking about?”
So I laid it out. Every. Single. Thing. The stolen food, the destroyed property, the daily humiliation, the physical abuse. Everything.
His response? “Dude, we were just kids messing around. That’s what boys do.”
“Messing around?” I could feel my voice getting louder. “You made my life hell for three years.”
David and Jake’s other buddies started looking uncomfortable, trying to change the subject. But I wasn’t done.
“I think you owe me an apology,” I said.
Jake actually laughed. “An apology? Bro, you really need to let this go. We’re adults now. Besides, you used to snitch on me to the teachers all the time. My mom grounded me because of you. So we’re even.”
Even. This psychopath thought we were even.
“Those weren’t pranks, Jake. That was bullying. Three years of it. And you know it.”
He threw up his hands dramatically. “Fine, FINE. I’m sorry, okay? Sorry I hurt your precious feelings. Happy now?” He downed his beer and slammed the glass down. “There. Can we move on to business now?”
The sarcasm was dripping. He wasn’t sorry – he was mocking me.
“That’s not an apology,” I said. “You don’t even think you did anything wrong.”
That’s when Jake’s mask completely slipped. He leaned across the table, his face twisted with the same cruel expression I remembered from 7th grade.
“You know what? I’m not sorry. You were a weird little loser then, and you’re still acting like one now. I asked you for ONE favor, and you’re throwing some tantrum about middle school? Grow up.”
He stood up, grabbed a dinner roll, and threw it at my head.
“I never liked you anyway. You were pathetic then, you’re pathetic now. No wonder your mom died – probably couldn’t stand being around such a whiny little freak.”
The Moment Everything Changed
I don’t remember standing up. I don’t remember David and the others trying to calm us down. I just remember seeing red.
Jake was walking toward the exit, still running his mouth: “Asking you for help was a mistake. I should have known better than to trust some deaf loser. You always were worthless.”
I followed him outside. There was a construction site next door with a pile of bricks.
I picked one up.
I walked up behind Jake Morrison, the person who had stolen three years of my childhood and never felt an ounce of remorse about it.
And I hit him in the head with that brick.
The Aftermath
The cops came. The ambulance came. I got arrested, charged with assault, and ended up with 12 days in jail (suspended), a fine, and a permanent record.
Jake’s family wanted $100,000 in damages. My sister Sarah had to negotiate it down to $35,000 to keep it out of court and save my job.
Was it worth it?
Honestly? Yeah. For that one moment, I wasn’t the helpless 13-year-old hiding in bathroom stalls. I was the adult who finally fought back against someone who had never faced consequences for their actions.
Jake ended up with a concussion and some stitches. He recovered fine.
I heard through the grapevine last year that he got drunk at some hotel bar and fell off a balcony. Broke his arm and pelvis.
I’m not saying that’s karma, but… I’m not NOT saying it either.
The Real Talk
Look, I’m not advocating violence. What I did was illegal and stupid and cost my family money we didn’t have.
But here’s what I want people to understand about bullying:
It’s not “kids being kids.” It’s not “boys will be boys.” It’s not character-building or toughening up. It’s psychological torture that can mess someone up for life.
The victims aren’t asking for it. Jake would have picked on someone else if it wasn’t me. Bullies don’t bully people because of something the victim did – they do it because they can get away with it.
The trauma doesn’t just go away. I’m 35 years old with a good job and a decent life, and I still had a panic attack shaking that man’s hand. That scared, powerless feeling never really leaves you.
Adults need to do better. Every teacher who told me to “just ignore it” or “handle it yourself” failed me. Schools that treat bullying like a minor discipline issue instead of the serious problem it is are failing kids every single day.
To anyone reading this who’s going through something similar: it’s not your fault, it’s not normal, and it’s not okay. Don’t wait 22 years to get help like I did.
And to the bullies out there who think it was “just kids being kids” – ask yourself if you’d be comfortable with someone treating your own child the way you treated others.
Because someday, karma might just pick up a brick.
Names have been changed. The emotional scars are real.
UPDATE: Several people have asked what happened to David. He reached out after the incident to apologize for not standing up for me back then. We’re not friends, but at least he owned up to it. That meant something.
Jake never apologized. Not once. Even during the settlement negotiations, his lawyer kept calling it a “childhood misunderstanding.” Some people never change.
If you’re experiencing bullying or having thoughts of self-harm, please reach out:
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988
- Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
- StopBullying.gov: Resources and support
