Cyberbullying victim – Sophina’s Pov 

By Kisavi Jayawardena

“Dyke” 

It was one word. Just one word. How funny it was that one word had the power to thicken my blood, leaving me breathless in fear. “Dyke”. There it was, commented under my Instagram post. Like thick, boiling, black tar, the word seared into my flesh. I read it again, hoping I’d misread it the first time. “Dyke”. This can’t be. 

 aaron_.s  Dyke 

 2 h       Reply

   _jason38 @aaron_.s  what do you mean 

    1 h      Reply 

   toby.mm0 @aaron_.s  dude wth you goin on   about 

    1 h    Reply

   aaron_.s  @_jason38 @toby.mm0 Sophina is  a dyke 

   57 m  Reply

   wendysday_ @aaron_.s  She is not! What’s your problem

   46 m     Reply

 le_matt @aaron_.s  Thats hot

There was no way that Aaron would ever say such a thing. He must’ve mistaken my post for someone else’s. That’s it. Because Aaron would never do such a thing to me. He’d never say something so foul. Aaron would never hurt me. No way. 

Aaron and I grew up together, just like our fathers. From diapers in a playpen, to dirty trousers in a sandbox, all the way to our school uniforms, we’d always been together. Up until last year, when his parents got divorced. He continued to live with his dad, so we weren’t separated, but we weren’t as close as we were. But I still did care for him. And I’d always looked up to him. Aaron was smart, kind and responsible. He wasn’t much older than I was, but I had always considered him as the brother I never had. I cared for Aaron and I knew he cared for me as well. 

So I deleted his comment. It was probably just a mistake. I shouldn’t let this bother me. 

Wendy came up to me the next morning before math class, just like I’d predicted. Oh how she enjoyed the drama. She asked me if I’d gotten into a fight with Aaron. 

“Then why would he call you a dyke?” Wendy questioned. 

“I don’t know” I tried brushing her off, and began to scan my math textbook. 

“It doesn’t really make sense right. Aaron’s not the type to go around cursing at people” she said rolling her eyes, as she scrolled through her phone. 

“I really don’t get why he commented that” Wendy pestered, as I continued to stuff my face with rice, “he wouldn’t risk his prefectship like this”. 

She waited for me to answer, before deciding to continue on rambling, “I mean, seriously. It’s not like you’re actually a lesbian. We wouldn’t even be friends if you were,” she said, pretending to gag as she laughed. 

“Look, it was just a comment. I deleted it.” 

“Mm okay” Wendy grinned, adjusting her skirt as she got up, “I don’t think you did. Check your insta”.

aaron_.s    Sophina is a fucking dyke. She’s a disgusting gay whore who’s only playing you all, by pretending to be a good Catholic girl. A fucking hypocrite.” 

2 h       Reply 

There’s no way. Aaron had commented that very same comment on all of my posts including the posts I’d been tagged in. I would be oblivious now, to continue on believing he’d mistakenly done it. 

“Sophina, I don’t know how to bring this up. But I think you should know…” Jason approached me the next day at school, and that’s when I saw it. Aaron had sent pictures of us. He’d taken pictures of Margot and I, but blurred her out of it. He had targeted me. 

There it was. Pictures of an innocent teenage date, all over the internet. I felt like my humility had been stripped off. I’d been reduced to a mere object these boys lusted after, and mocked. They called me horrible names, and made hurtful memes, even going as far as having my face edited onto sexual images. 

“Slut, whore, dyke” and so much more. It wasn’t just one word, anymore. No way, this was far worse. It was no longer one comment, I could sweep under the carpet by clicking on the delete button. It was a whole sand storm. A ravenous sand tornado that had crashed on me. And it was everywhere. My secret, a vulnerable part of myself that I had kept hidden safely, was now being juggled around as a means of gossip and entertainment. 

I was no longer hidden. But I’d been pulled out of my closet, and stuffed in a glass cage they could all look at. I felt trapped. I was trapped. And there was no way I could set myself free. 

There was no way I could keep this hidden. No way I could deny this. All I could do now was keep Margot safe. Shield her from my mess. I needed to make sure that she wouldn’t get dragged into my storm. 

She came into the girls bathroom, as I’d texted her to meet me there. Everyone else was at the assembly hall, so I knew we’d be safer here. 

“Sophina, why didn’t you reply to any of my texts?” Margot walked towards me, and pulled me into a hug, “I was so worried about you. How do you feel?”.

“Stop” I pushed her off me, “we can’t do this”.

“What do you mean Soph? I’ll handle this. You don’t need to worry, I’ll go talk it out with Aaron. I’ll…” 

“We can’t be together anymore” I managed to choke out, not being able to keep in my tears. 

“Hey. Don’t say that. We can work through this, Soph. I’ll help you” 

“No we can’t. I like you Margot, but not this much. I don’t like you enough to have everyone mock me and gossip about me” I lied.

“You don’t mean that” Margot said, shaking her head in denial, she tried placing her hand on my shoulder, but I brushed her off. 

“Yes I do. This needs to end. Everything between us” 

“But I like you, Soph. I like you so much. I like you more than I like myself, Soph. More than…my own parents. You…you’re my most favourite person in the world, Sophina. You can’t do this to me” she begged, biting back her tears.

I shook my head, not wanting to accept where my relationship with Margot had come to, “no, it’s over. We’re breaking up.” I finished, and walked out, leaving Margot crying. 

My Margot.

I never thought I’d be the one to hurt her. It was the first time I’d seen her cry. And I hated myself, for being the reason behind her tears. 

The memes, posts and pictures reached my parents. They screamed, yelled and shouted. I couldn’t remember much of it, as it was all a blur to me. My mum cried, and my dad slapped me for making her cry. He threatened to pull me out of school, which only made her cry more. 

They didn’t care about me. They didn’t care about how it had affected me. I had been cyberbullied, and they didn’t care. All they cared about was their reputation. Saturday pool club meetings, Sunday evening tea, Tuesday mum’s lunches, and how’d they have to face their friends. They didn’t ask me about how I felt. They simply didn’t care. No one cared, except for Margot. But I’d gotten rid of her. And she was no longer with me. 

I sat silently through dinner that evening. Afraid to cause a disturbance to them, I stayed quiet and didn’t move much. My parents now hated me. I was no longer their innocent girl, but rather a slut in their eyes. I felt it too. The way they looked at me made me feel it too. I felt dirty. I could feel sand all over my skin, buckets of sand filling up inside of me. I could feel my body ache at the weight of it all. I couldn’t bare it any longer. 

So I snuck into my parents bathroom after dinner, while they changed up and continued on with their debates over my future. And I pulled open the medicine cabinet, scanning through the bottles, the comments replayed in my head. The comments, the tweets, the posts, the texts on the group chats, the memes. Everyone knew. I chucked down a few pills, thrashing the plastic bottle into the sink. Everyone knew. They’d all seen it. I was no longer myself. And I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t go through it anymore. I didn’t want to reach the point where I too would hate myself. 

I knew that no one would ever see me as myself again, without associating me with whatever they’d seen online. It wasn’t just my privacy that had been stolen away, but my identity. I’d been stripped off of everything. And I needed it all to stop. 

My head felt heavy, and my pulse slowed down, “I’m sorry mum. I’m sorry dad”. I felt the cool bathroom tiles underneath me. And the hazy feeling I had was soon replaced with darkness. “I’m sorry Margot”. 

Cyberbully’s – Aaron’s Pov 

“I’m sorry Aaron, I don’t feel the same way” Margot apologized, patting me on the shoulder “I like someone else”.

“Uh what do you mean, Margot?” 

“I’m interested in someone else. I really like… that person” she sighed, pulling at her headband. 

“Alright”, I managed to blurt out. 

“I gotta go. See you around Aaron”.

She didn’t like me. She rejected me. 

Rejection was normal. Everyone I knew had been rejected at least once. But I never thought I’d get rejected by her. Margot was all I had left. I felt heard. Talking to her was what got me through the toughest days. She’d listen and she never judged. She never put me up on a pedestal like everyone else. I didn’t have to put on a show with her, like I did with everyone else. I wasn’t the football captain or a prefect to her. With Margot I was just a boy. A normal boy. I felt heard. And I felt seen. I felt secure with Margot. 

And now, she’d rejected me. 

“So how’d it go with Margot?” Matt questioned, biting the white paper straw in his orange juice carton. 

“I gotta go” I escaped, not wanting to converse any further on Margot’s rejection. I chucked my lunch into the bin, before heading upstairs to my class. It was then that I found out the reason for why Margot had rejected me. The person. 

I recognized her voice. “More than anyone else…” Margot spoke. She sounded warm and comforting, like golden honey and autumn leaves. I needed to see her. To let her know that I still cared for her. We were friends after all. But before I could enter, I heard her speak up again, “…because I like you” Margot said, shifting her eyes to her muddy sneakers. 

“Of course I like you too,” Sophina replied, leaning forward as she pulled Margot in for a hug, “you’re my most favourite person in the world, Margot”.

I felt the walls of my throat and stomach close tighter together, as it all came down on me. I felt disgusted at the sight of Margot gleaming at Sophina. I’d never seen her smile that way with me nor anyone else. I felt sick hearing them talk, whisper and giggle. I’d never seen that side of Margot, yet Sophina had brought it out of her. I never got to know her that way. 

“What is wrong with you? Why the hell can’t you get a damn A? I’ve been spending all my money, sending you to class after class. Yet you come back with C’s and D’s.” He yelled out, throwing my plate across the floor. 

“I’m sorry Dad” I stuttered, shivering to the shriek of the plate shattering against the cold hard ground.  

“Don’t fucking apologize to me, you bastard. If you’re sorry, get a fucking A.” He screamed, before throwing his glass of water at me. 

“You’re just like that bitch.” He muttered, gritting his teeth. “You can’t fucking do anything. You’re worthless just like your mother.” 

“Mom’s not worthless” I tried defending, feeling a terrible sting of pain when he reiterated “Is that so? Then why’d she leave you here? Huh?”.

He was right. Mum was long gone. She’d lost custody over me, as her case of plea was far too weak. She didn’t bother to put up a fight against him for me. As soon as she saw the door open, she ran right out of her jail-like marriage, and me. She left me. She promised she’d come back. And I was a desperate child, to have believed her. A fool is what I was. To still deny the fact that she was never going to come back for me. She didn’t care, as she’d left me all alone with her abuser. She left her son with the very man that abused her day and night. And now I was trapped with him. 

It was never enough. The football capacity nor the prefectship meant anything to him, as long as I brought back home a report coloured with Cs and Ds. I had worked hard for the captaincy and the prefectship. I stayed up late studying and left before dawn for football practice. And yet, my father didn’t even show up to my inauguration ceremony. He didn’t care. Because nothing I did was ever enough to him. 

“I can’t believe you let Sophina beat you again. How do you think I’m supposed to face her parents at the dinners now, huh” He began, “that girl’s been at the top of the class the past four years. You should be ashamed of yourself”. 

“It’s because she’s good at it, Dad. She enjoys studying”, I spoke up, gaining a slap across my face. 

“You little piece of scum, don’t you dare talk back to me. You let a girl beat you, and you come here trying to act like a man with me? Huh, you pussy. Why don’t you man up for once”, he said burying his nails into my jaw, “you’re just like that bitch, your good-for-nothing mother. Bunch of pussies” he finished spitting out. 

I was a man. I am a man. Yet his words fell on me, like scorching oil upon the soft skin of a cat. I am a man. But I’m scared. I’m trapped. And I’m weak. He’ll continue to abuse me. And he’ll never change. He’ll never notice me. 

Because nothing I did was ever enough. 

But Sophina.

Sophina had it all. She was the “good kid”, the “nice girl”. Sophina had a happy family, with parents, good grades and a good future ahead of her. Sophina was happy, while I was rotting away. She had it all, and yet she took Margot away from me. I’d been cheated. Life had cheated me. Blessed the “good girl” and cursed the “damned jock”. I had it all taken away from me. It was unfair. This was all so unfair. 

I don’t get it. What could she have that I lack? So I scrolled through Sophinas feed. And it hit me. She was a hypocrite. Lying to us all, hiding away, Sophina was a coward. And I intended on exposing her. 

I typed. And clicked enter. 

See how easy it was. 

It felt good. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to see her reaction. 

I kept an eye on Sophina that day. I wanted more than just the replies I’d gotten from her friends. I wanted her to feel the pain I’d felt. To feel hopeless and worthless. I wanted her to know what it was like having everything you cared for taken away from you. And that’s what I did. 

I followed Sophina after school, to the CDs/ vinyl record shop downtown. She met Margot there. They chatted and flipped through the boxes and shelves of CDs and vinyl records, laughing. Margot would pull out a vinyl record, and Sophina would tell her a silly joke, laughing and leaning against Margot’s shoulder. Sophina kissed her at the end of their date. And Margot looked happy. They looked happy. 

Disgustingly happy. 

That night I edited the pictures I’d taken of Margot and Sophina. I blurred out Margot’s face, making it impossible to recognize her. And I posted it on Twitter, and sent it to all the groups I was in. 

It felt good. It felt really good seeing Sophina that day. I couldn’t really tell what exactly she was feeling; sadness, fear, embarrassment, or possibly even anger? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t care. She didn’t have the right to be angry. I did. And I enjoyed watching her. She looked damaged and lifeless. Sophina looked like a trainwreck. And it was all my doing. 

I smiled at her during math class, physics, biology, literature and lunch. And she’d turn away, hunch down attempting to hide from me. It felt thrilling. Sophina couldn’t even face me. She looked so weak. I’d finally managed to put her in her place. I felt like a man. 

And that evening, my dad received news that Sophina had been rushed to hospital. But it was too late. She was already dead when her parents had found her pale, covered in her own puke. 

“She took her life. And she did it because of me, Dad” 

“Aaron. What nonsense are you talking abo…” my dad yelled out, keeping his phone down. 

“I beat her dad. I finally beat her.” 

“Aaron don’t you dare tell me you had something to do with that girl’s death” 

“Why of course I did.” I nodded, “you said ‘man up’, dad”

“Aaron…”

“Man up, man up, man up. And here. I did. I’m a man now. Can you finally see me? Huh? Am I enough of a man for you?” I screamed out, shoving him against the fridge. 

“You bastard” he spat out, his face painted in fear. 

“I’m your son, dad. You made me this way”