I was fifteen, it was the end of the day. I was going home with a friend who lives not too far from me. It was getting a bit dark, but we didn’t mind.
Two men a bit far behind, I would say in their 20s (definitely not kids our age), started cat-calling us. We grew quite silent as they got closer. When they got to our level, the both of them split so that they would be on both of our sides. They complimented us on our bags (which they touched), our clothes, our bodies. My friend chuckled awkwardly, and I froze up (like I tend to do when taken aback). The guy on my side started laughing at me, saying that I was actually not that pretty with the (prominent) acne on my face, and other awful remarks. They eventually left us alone. Me and my friend laughed it off, split up and went back home.
This night, I made my first suicide attempt. When I came home, I immediately went to my room and cried silently. I took a random, unopened box of pills from the bathroom and locked myself in the toilets. Nobody really noticed anything.
I bid my family goodnight, hugged them a little bit harder than I would usually do, still no one really saw anything coming. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling awful, went to the living room where my mother was fortunately still awake and told her about the pills. I spent three days in isolation in the hospital…
I remember vividly the moment when I came back to school after all of this, where no one was aware of what happened (I think so). I entered the school, and immediately rushed to hug my two closed friends at the time who welcomed me happily in their arms. Eventually I had to leave them to go to the director’s office to talk about my absence. As soon as I walked away from my friends, a boy who used to bully me started mock-mimicking me hugging my friends… Before he left me to meet up his own.