I walk my usual route to class; I enter through the front doors and walk until I see a piece of dried up gum on the floor. I turn right, and keep going until I see a vertical crack going down the middle of a tile. I turn right again until I see a diagonal crack in the tile. My classroom is on the right of it and I enter. My desk is eight tiles in and seven tiles to the left.

My name is Maria. I don't talk much and I don't have but one friend. I'm a senior in high school and I have already received a full ride to Yale. I don't fit in with the kids at my high school, but I have hopes that I will fit in, in college.

Walking the halls of my school, I try to smile at those around me and make friends. Receiving glares instead, I glue my eyes back to the floor. I always joke with Josh, my one and only best friend, that I will only remember the floor once I leave.

Class is over; I head to my other morning classes. Same routine, eyes to the ground. I always have to re-position myself on my route to lunch because Laura, another student in my grade, likes to jostle me around.

Her favorite game is kicking me once I've fallen. I've learned that making any noise or fighting back just encourages her friends to get involved. By staying quiet, I can get to lunch faster.

When she finally walks away, I walk to lunch with my head down. Mom makes a wonderful sandwich. We can't afford much, but she tries so hard to make me lunch everyday. She tries hard to make sure I at least eat lunch.

I eat lunch when Josh is at school, but with his sports schedule he is often busy. When he isn't around, I don't get to eat lunch. Laura takes it from me. I can't stop her, because my head will end up in the toilet again.

I don't fight back because I can't. I don't have an army of friends to back me up. I don't have the muscle strength to fight back. On the off chance I do, a teacher happens to be walking around the corner and I get blamed. I end up with detention or suspension.

I don't fight back. I walk to my next class, head down. I will only remember the floor once I leave.

I have a test this period. I studied hard. Laura sits next to me in class, and expects to copy from me. Today I'm brave. I shield my test from her and finish in record time. Despite the silent grumbling next to me, I stand up and walk to the front. I turn my test in and walk back to my seat.

I don't get to leave early, but I did bring my favorite book to read. I continue to read where I left off. Not long after, everyone finishes their tests. The teacher leaves to go run them through the scantron reader since we have time. Within moments, I'm on the ground...blood dripping on the 47th tile of the classroom.

Laura is angry I didn't share my test with her. Something possesses me to stand up, and confront her – so I do.

I get in her face and spit blood at her. I tell her to leave me alone. I don't remember what happened after that, except my face hitting the floor really hard. On the 49th tile of the classroom.

I will only remember the floor once I leave.

I don't know what happened next. I thought I stood up, but my body was laying on the ground. I took a glance around and saw horrified faces. Laura did it. She always threatened she would and now she did. No one ever thought it was possible, not even Laura herself.

I don't remember much after that. I went away. I do remember one thing. The one thing I knew well about my high school. The one thing that I loved. The floor.

If you or someone you love is being bullied, please don't waste another minute. Talk to an adult you trust. Talk to the school. Talk to local law enforcement. We all get one life. Let's not ruin someone else's by being a bully.