Don't mess with my daughter

My daughter tried to take her own life. That’s how I found out. She’d been bullied. Relentlessly. By two little monsters who got their kicks out of tormenting her, day in and day out. Even after it all blew up, all they did was scribble out some half-assed apology, smirking, "Whatever, we won't do it again." They didn't get it. I didn't want an apology. I wanted them dead.

I saw my Lily in the ER. She was barely recognizable. Her hair was matted with blood, her body covered in bruises and cigarette burns. I couldn’t believe it. I’d sent her off to school that morning, perfectly fine. Now, she was hooked up to machines, an oxygen mask strapped to her face, fighting for her life.

"She's in critical condition," the doctor said, grim-faced. "Ruptured eardrum, a three-inch laceration on her scalp… And during the CT scan, we found a shard of glass embedded in her brain."

My chest tightened. My jaw clenched. "Can… can you remove it?" I managed to ask.

"I can't make any promises," he replied, glancing at Lily. "Her situation… it's precarious."

The surgery lasted five hours. I waited until dawn. It was successful, but they couldn't get all the glass. More surgery would be needed.

While we waited, the police showed me a video. They found it on one of the bully's phones. My Lily was cowering in the corner of a classroom, her hair a mess. One girl slapped her across the face, then kicked her to the ground. The other girl joined in, kicking her like she was nothing. They forced her to kneel, yanked her head back by her hair, and slapped her over and over. The sickening smack of skin on skin mixed with their cruel laughter.

“Take her clothes off!” one yelled.

“Such a loser, so obedient,” the other sneered.

"I'll get you every time I see you! I know where you live. You're not getting away with this!"

The camera wobbled. One of the girls grabbed a glass protractor and, while my daughter trembled in terror, slammed it into her head…

When the video ended, I wanted to kill them. I wanted to tear them apart with my bare hands. A glass protractor… to the head… the sheer brutality, the malice… They hadn’t hesitated. This wasn’t the first time.

I saw them at the school. Slouching in the corner, looking defiant. Their parents were there, spouting the usual crap to the principal – "They're just kids," "I can't control her." The little monsters admitted to everything. Their reason?

"She's annoying," the ringleader whined. "God, I hate snitches." I recognized her. The one with the protractor.

Her mother tugged at her sleeve. "Brittany, apologize. Tell them you won’t do it again. Be nice."

Brittany smirked. "Sorry," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "I promise I won't hit her again. Happy? Geez." She looked at the officer. "Can I go now? I have things to do."

"Where are you going?" the officer asked.

She glared at me. "To slap that bitch. I haven't gotten my daily dose yet. She's asking for it!"

That's when I snapped. I vaulted over the couch and kicked Britt...