Through a Mother's Eyes

"Can't you do anything MORE?" Kendra Jensen slammed her fists on the kitchen table, hissing into the phone. "These people are hurting my daughter! Can't you see that?!" said Kendra frustratedly. She struggled to keep from yelling.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jensen. The mothers of the girls who're supposedly bullying your daughter have already been called. Our school policy is to leave it in the parents' hands to discipline their own childr--" Principal Garlendar was cut off mid-sentence by Kendra.

"SUPPOSEDLY? Haven't I given you enough proof?! My daughter is being physically and emotionally tortured day after day! Every single damn day! And it's only three months into her freshman year. And let me tell you, Garlendar, nor me or my daughter will stand another second of this." Kendra's voice ended in a deadly growl, her nostrils flared and her free hand clawed on the table.

Once again, Patricia Garlendar started with "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jensen--"

Kendra cut her off a second time. "Instead of being sorry about it, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!" she hissed into the receiver. And with that, Kendra hung up the phone, and threw it on the floor with so much force that the phone broke. A tangle of wires, buttons, and broken pieces of gray lay on the floor.

Kendra put her head in her hands, a frustration headache forming at her hairline.

'Why me?' Kendra thought to herself. Kendra had a beautiful, smart, caring, and talented daughter. Why was SHE being the one being bullied? Kendra's baby, her special baby, being bullied at school.

She heard a big thump upstairs, a thump too big to be ignored. Her eyes widened. "Abigail," she spoke, fear etching her words. "Abigail!" she shouted, pushing her chair back and racing up the stairs. She prayed and prayed and prayed as she took each step to her fourteen-year-old girl's bedroom.

She banged the door open, and practically quivered with relief at the site of her live daughter, even if she WAS sobbing.

Her daughter, Abigail, had sunk to the floor, her arms clamped tightly at her waist. Tears streaked her face, and enormous sobs were emitting from her mouth. Mucus was dripping from her nose.

Kendra felt her own eyes moisten at the site of her baby in so much pain. She sat on the floor next to her and pulled her onto her lap, cradling Abigail to her chest.

"M-Momma," she coughed out between sobs. "Wha-Wha-Why me?"

Kendra let her own tears fall. "I don't know, baby, I don't know," she whispered. "We'll get though this, sweetheart, you and me together."

Kendra let her daughter sob into her, let her cry out all the questions she had yet to hear answers for.