The sharpest knife in the world
(Potentially triggery for assault stuff.)
The following was originally in the middle of my previous entry, about my brief visit yesterday to the town we lived in when I was in fourth grade, but I realized that it was kind of a jarring change of tone from the rest of the entry, so I pulled it out into a separate one.
In my previous entry, I mentioned visiting the hilltop back entrance to my elementary school, where I used to walk or bike to and from school.
What I left out is that I think that spot at the top of the hill was also the place where the class bully found me one day after school and threatened me with a knife.
“This is the sharpest knife in the world,” he said, ”and I'm going to cut you with it.” He drew it along my arm without breaking skin. Then he let me go, and I ran crying down the hill to the school.
We ended up in court; I remember nothing about that experience except that I testified about what he'd said to me. I'm pretty sure that he was found guilty, but I don't remember what happened to him. Except that years later, after we'd moved away, I think I heard that the guy fell and broke his back, and that a friend of his dragged him somewhere to get help.
Anyway. The knife incident isn't a traumatic memory for me at this point, but it is my strongest specific association with that particular spot, so I thought of it when I was standing there looking down at the school yesterday.