Eight years ago

"Hey, Ryoko! How was school today, sweetie?"

My mother's arms are strong and warm. I inhale her coffee-scented hug. It's comforting and sweet. I sigh, and reluctantly pull away from her.

"What's wrong, honey? You don't look okay."

I guess she's right. My face is scrunched up in worry. I frown, and stare at the floor.

"School sucked."

"Don't use that kind of language, Ryoko."

I cross my arms. "Well… I'm sorry, but it wasn't so good."

"Oh no. What happened?" She pulls me onto her lap. I'm eight years old, so I'm a little embarrassed that I still like to sit here. I'm not a little kid. I should be too big, but I feel safe like this.

"It's just… These girls are being really mean to my friend. They're pretty mean to me too, but not like her."

My mother's pretty face darkens. "What's going on?"

"They say mean stuff! And I don't know why she lets them…"

"Do you let them?" she asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you let them say those things to you? And her?"

I look down.

"I wouldn't, but… I'm just really scared… I'm sorry."

She hugs me. Her hair is long and blonde. The strands of it seem to be made of streaks of glowing sunlight, lit up by the afternoon sun shining from the open drapes of our front room.

"I know it's hard," she whispers in my ear. "But you do yourself a great injustice."

"W—what do you mean?" I stutter.

"You both should be treated better. Correct?"

"Well… yeah…"

"So why do you think that your friend doesn't get help, if she's too scared to stand up for herself? Why won't she reach out?"

"I—I don't know," I admit. "I think… maybe she's ashamed. Maybe she doesn't think she should get help…" I wonder aloud. Then I shake my head.

"But that doesn't make sense at all!" I cry. My mother sighs.

"I know. The problem is: Often times victims don't reach out because they feel like they deserve that treatment, on some level. Maybe your friend needs to love herself enough to say something about the way she's letting these girls treat her."

"I don't know why though. She didn't do anything except be a little shy, like me…"

"Ryoko, if there's only one purely true thing you learn in life, let this be it." She lifts me off her lap, and stands me up, facing her. We're eye-to-eye. Her hazel eyes stare into mine. I can see all the flecks of green and gold around her pupils.

"We accept the love we think we deserve."