I knew Mark since we were nine years old. We weren't best friends, but we weren't enemies either. For the longest time, he was just a normal school friend that I didn't see after school. 

That started changing in middle school. In sixth grade, when it became sort of a game to bully me every Friday ("Charlie Day"), he always did something. On Charlie Day, it was kind of a contest to do something mean to me: a random punch walking by me in the hall, a kick in the balls, a slap in the face, getting double-pantsed somewhere very public. Obviously, it wasn't a good day for me, and if there's one place I learned to avoid, it was the restroom. 

Early on, I made the mistake of using the restroom on a Charlie Day and two boys grabbed me by feed and pulled me out under the stall door, pants down and everything.

One of those boys was Mark.

So, on Fridays I avoided the restroom completely, even if it was unbearable. Normally, I used it 2 or 3 times a day, so it definitely wasn't easy. I was very small for my age, and to say it was hard for me to wait that long doesn't even begin to describe it.

I'm sure you're thinking, why didn't you tell someone?

The answer, to be one hundred percent honest, is simple: I was a little coward. I was convinced that if I told on people, Charlie Day would become Charlie Week or Charlie Month. 

Plus, I wasn't stupid. I knew Charlie Day wouldn't last forever.  It was mostly in the spring, and I was pretty hopeful that people would forget about it over the summer. 

The last Charlie Day of the year was two weeks before school was out.  Mostly typical stuff, except for getting body slammed into a brick wall by someone I didn't even see (I had a scraped forehead from that one). 

Mark was the one who gave me the final double pantsing (pants and underwear) of the year, this time holding my arms behind my back so I couldn't pull things up for almost a minute, probably. Mark had lifted me by the back of my pants and dragged me behind this building so a little club of people—including girls—could see the whole show.367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡje9fCESqLU

All I could do was wait it out and stare at them when they laughed.

When he finally let me go, I pulled up everything and ran back to the safety of more people. Charlie Day was mainly battering me with the occasional humiliation, so I knew the worst was over.

Even though I looked younger than almost anyone, I didn't act that way, other than being a coward. I didn't cry.

I just waited it out.

Obviously I was relieved that school was over and looked forward to playing video games and reading all summer (I had zero real friends, outside of online).

A week into summer break, though, I had a huge surprise one morning when there was an unexpected know on our apartment door.

I opened it. Standing there, by himself, was Mark.