The Principal
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Clasa a XII-a D | Ciobotaru Viorel The principal It was a dark cold day of December, 1987. The wind was swirling between the branches, faintly whispering the tone of its decaying touch, every morning scratching my window, filling my life with the abhorrence of its mundane existence. I have never felt the need to go outside; there was nothing I could do, see or enjoy. I was a 19 years-old student at Harvard, and my life was hitting rock bottom at that time. I have always been the weird child, always bullied, always hated, and never understood. I once decided to go to the principal, and seek help not only for my constant bullying experiences, but also for my latent existence. I started to describe my situation, and, as I was talking, I could notice a pity smile on her face, slowly fading into her serious business-type look. She was a middle-aged woman, with thin body, a wonderful sense of fashion, blond hair and brown eyes. She was also one of the warmest person I have ever known, despite the cold persona that she has always been displaying. After I finished my story, she told me with a calm voice that everything was going to be okay, and that somehow, soon, my life was going to be changed forever. I looked at her bewildered by the words that she just said. She smiled again at me and said: “Don’t worry, it’s going to be for your best. Things will get better. I promise!” For the next week, nothing has changed. Every day I would go through the same pain as before. Living my life with the absence of any compassion, having to lie my parents all the time, never understanding why. The week after, somehow, none of the bullies was present. There was no one to harass me. Their simple absence was a huge
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Narrative Story
Transcript of The Principal
Clasa a XII-a D
Clasa a XII-a D | Ciobotaru Viorel
The principal
It was a dark cold day of December, 1987. The wind was swirling between the branches, faintly whispering the tone of its decaying touch, every morning scratching my window, filling my life with the abhorrence of its mundane existence. I have never felt the need to go outside; there was nothing I could do, see or enjoy.I was a 19 years-old student at Harvard, and my life was hitting rock bottom at that time. I have always been the weird child, always bullied, always hated, and never understood.I once decided to go to the principal, and seek help not only for my constant bullying experiences, but also for my latent existence. I started to describe my situation, and, as I was talking, I could notice a pity smile on her face, slowly fading into her serious business-type look. She was a middle-aged woman, with thin body, a wonderful sense of fashion, blond hair and brown eyes. She was also one of the warmest person I have ever known, despite the cold persona that she has always been displaying. After I finished my story, she told me with a calm voice that everything was going to be okay, and that somehow, soon, my life was going to be changed forever. I looked at her bewildered by the words that she just said. She smiled again at me and said: Dont worry, its going to be for your best. Things will get better. I promise! For the next week, nothing has changed. Every day I would go through the same pain as before. Living my life with the absence of any compassion, having to lie my parents all the time, never understanding why. The week after, somehow, none of the bullies was present. There was no one to harass me. Their simple absence was a huge relief for me, thinking that life maybe isnt that unfair as I always thought it has been.Despite of the new life that I was living, after a few days I started to wonder what might have happened to them. Rumors that they were gone missing, with no sign from them since the end of last week started to spread around the campus. A lot of thoughts went through my mind at that time, even those that the principal might have been involved. After the bullies went missing, she was always smiling at me in a weird manner. She even dragged me once in a corner and asked me how I was feeling, and after I replied with a simple good, she looked deep in to my eyes, with a sadistic smile on her face, tilting her head slowly on a side, stroking my cheek and saying: There, there. See? I told you everything was going to be okay.
I never told anyone about my discussion with the principal, not even when the police asked me if I have ever noticed any weird behavior of any teacher or colleague. It wasnt because I was scared, but, she really changed my life, and for the first time in my life, it was a good change.A year later, she was found crying, covered in blood in the middle of an abandoned street. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia and major depression due to her husbands death that no one knew about. She was convicted three months later with life-sentenced prison for mass-murdering of eight students, three elders and four kids. When she was asked why she did commit those crimes, she simply smiled and said: My lovely husband told me that I should take care of those in need.It is a dark cold day of December, 1988. The wind is swirling between the branches, faintly whispering the tone of its decaying touch, every morning scratching my window, always remembering me of what has happened last year. Always remembering me of her smile. Never letting me to forget.
