The Story of Betinha - Part 04

Hey, you. In this part 04 I describe a parallel life and strangely contrary to the one described in part 03. Something completely surreal, because analyzing my memories fully I came to the conclusion that everything I will narrate in the following lines happened at the same time I was with Anderson. However, I'm not going to start from the point left by part 03 but part 02, in my first years of school. The memories I have of preschool are very vague, only that I played with both boys and girls. There was no clear separation. I remember that in my lunchbox I carried the most "chic" snack among the children. It was strawberries with cream. I lied saying that I had done it... the other children even believed it. I remember the teacher saying boys to the right and girls to the left. I went to the left and the teacher took my arm saying, "Baby, you're not a girl". A supervisor said to the teacher, "He confused female with boy. You have to talk boys to one side and girls to the other". At this stage of childhood, I also remember embarrassing my mother, when she was showing a friend very old photos of her on the beach. In the photo, next to my mother was a little girl in a bikini. When the photo was shown, before my mother commented I said, "That's me". My mother with a yellow smile and embarrassed said to her friend, "This boy likes to play". My mother's friend said, "Comedian". Returning to the school environment, I remember in the courtyard of the state college, three blocks from my house, where my mother held my hand and Julia held her mother's hand. A woman, with a microphone, read lists of names and from there the mothers took their children to the corresponding rooms. Julia and I fell into the same room and our mothers took us to the room. I remember entering and standing on a wallet near the teacher, (my name begins with A) and Julia much further away. After a while, Julia, me, and other girls would sit together in a row next to the teacher. Of course, the boys would call me a faggot, a wimp, a faggot, and so on. My friends would say, "Don't call me a faggot". From the first to the fourth grade, there were no significant problems. I even made friends with some boys, but I always stayed in the group of girls. We talked about nail polish, makeup and so on. I remember one day I stole a lipstick and a nail polish from my mother and took it to school. I and the other girls painted our nails and put on lipstick. The lipstick was easy to remove, just with water. As for the nails, I had forgotten to steal the acetone as well. One of the girls, Alice, said, "My mother will beat me" (Her mother was evangelical and wouldn't accept it). I told them we needed the acetone (I already knew so much about watching my mother and her manicure) and we went on the adventure of finding an acetone. We went out just as crazy, and I remembered a teacher who always had her nails done and her hair done, and I thought I could be just like her when she grew up. We went to the teachers' room and called her. Teacher Estela came to us and asked: <unk>What's the problem girls?<unk> When she saw me she changed <unk>What's the problem Betinho?<unk> I told her that Alice had been painted and the teacher exclaimed <unk>nooosssa<unk>, when she saw Alice showing her nails. Another teacher came and brought acetone and began to clean Alice's nails. I showed Teacher Estela my nails and she made a funny face, looked to the sides and said quietly in my ear: <unk>What is this boy... you want to turn girl<unk>? I immediately answered yes and the teacher laughed quietly and asked to enter the teachers' room. I held my hands between her and her and told the other teacher that she would clean Alice's nails: <unk>I'm going to give you some acetone. Another teacher said: <unk>But it was the first time I had to see God, including Clémentine. <unk>It was the first time I had to save myself from this teacher. <unk> In the fourth grade, that's when the nightmare started. A boy named Erick started chasing me. One time he pulled my pants so far apart and then pushed me, I tried to hit him but he punched me and started laughing. A teacher, I don't remember, pulled me apart. On another occasion he put his hand on my butt and pushed me into the purses. All the times he assaulted me were done when there was no teacher or at recess. On this occasion I remember falling to the ground and he started shouting <unk>Bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>... the other children in the room, with the exception of the girls who were my friends, entered the choir shouting <unk>bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>... I went to my purse, lowered my head and cried a lot. When the teacher came, she asked and I said crying: <unk>called me a bicha<unk>. To this day I have a deep hatred of this memory of the children shouting <unk>bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>, <unk>bicha<unk>. "Scene" was repeated on other occasions, resulting in tears. One time a friend told me not to cry when the room shouted "bitch" and I tried to hit Erick. I remember him in the front shouting "bitch" and I ran towards him. He was bigger and gave me a couple of punches and then grabbed me by the neck. In response, I took a pencil and stuck it in his leg. He screamed in pain and blood came out in his leg. I was very scared. A teacher who arrived at the scene grabbed me by the arm, nervously saying "what have you done moleque". I didn't know what to say, I was stunned. This day I was in coordination with other bad boys (from other rooms). One of them looked at me and said: "Have you stolen? He's going to jail for you (a minor) I was in jail". My parents were called and we left the school late at night. I remember my father telling the Deputy Director of Juvenile that I was defending myself. At home my mother said "Be a man boy, otherwise they will persecute you forever". I didn't go to school for a couple of weeks, and then they moved me to a new class. One of the boys in the class asked me, "Did you fuck Erick?" I said, "He used to beat me all the time", and I defended myself. In this new class, I tried to hook up with a few girls, but they all seemed scared. One told me that her mother told her not to talk to me. I was isolated until the end of the year. I was in recovery in almost every subject, but I made it through the year. In the fifth grade I had only one friend, Flavia, and we always went together. In a break of this class, in the school yard, I saw Eric. He was perfect, but he was in another room. When he saw me he shouted again "bicha" and said that he would fuck me too. I was afraid again. Many people also said that Erick was a brother of a dealer and that he would pay me. Inside the classroom, I was terrified that it was time to leave and that I should run and not find Erick anymore. It turns out that the classroom had a group of boys who said they were part of a gang, but it was only in the classroom. They said it was the gang of the black hand. The lead boy was a boy named Geremias. This gang had already taken some of my clothes and called me a fag, which because of the conditioning made me nervous. One day they came to attack me and called me a fag and there I started on the weaker boy, Max. I gave him a few punches in the face and saw his nose bleed. Instead of Geremias and other boys defending him, he started shouting at me and congratulating me. Geremias stood up and said, "She was coming with a man. I've never been with a man. " He asked me to stop walking with her, and she said that I had been raped by her father, and that she had to stop walking with me. The amazing thing about all of this was that I didn't talk to either my family or Anderson much about these episodes, except one day Anderson was on his way out of school (he wasn't working that day), in the morning, so as not to let "Erick" catch me. I remember joining the group "Black Hand" thinking: "If I join this group, Erick won't catch me". The group was made up of troublemakers and lived by making fun of teachers. Geremias was a very violent and confused boy. He was raised by his uncles because his mother was destitute and his father was imprisoned. Geremias looked at me with the desire to help defend myself like him. When the group beat and humiliated some effeminate boy from previous series, Geremias made me participate, which was strange. I was afraid of Geremias if he turned against me. One time one of the boys from the "Black Hand" beat up a boy from another school. Geremias and I discussed and I said, "we have to hit the one who hits us". Geremias agreed and you said afterwards, almost all the boys, after leaving the school, we caught the aggressor and gave him a beating. The boy ran out after taking kicks and punches. That's when I thought to put an end to Erick's threats. I explained to Geremias that any threat to the group also had to have a response and one afternoon we met in front of the school, near Erick's house, and together we went to Erick who was with another friend in the street. We started beating both of us, but his friend ran. We beat Erick so much that I began to notice something strange: blood and Erick did not defend himself more vigorously. He was slow and one of his fingers seemed to hang. Geremias held a piece of stick and had already given Erick a few slaps. When I saw that Erick was with his finger hanging, a cut on his head and blood flowing, I shouted "enough people". Geremias unintentionally hit me with a slap and retorted: "Let's fuck this shit more". But then I said, he will die... At this two adults approached and the boys of the gang ran, except me. One of the adults recognized me and said: "You already fucked him ... do you want to kill him?" I ran out with remorse and in the day I hid. The next day, I talked to one of the boys in the class who was not from the Black Hands, his name was Jander, the son of Professor Clésio (the Evangelical) and asked him how Erick was. Jander said that Erick had broken a finger, but he was fine. Another class change happened, the Black Hand was disarticulated. In the sixth grade I continued to mess, I and some other boys had launched the "Hands", a mess group (but nothing like the Black Hand, we didn't hit in effeminate and we didn't take revenge). In the intervals we talked to Geremias, who gave us tips and ideas to fuck everyone. That year, Geremias got into trouble with a biology teacher. All I know is that Geremias, in the room where he was, said to the teacher: "You are fucked your cousin". The teacher grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the secretary shouting: "Please call me cousin". I never saw the teacher and Geremias again. Geremias went to another school, the teacher I don't know. Because I was a friend of Geremias, many people began to avoid me. The group "Hands" also broke up and I was the last months alone in the room. I only talked with Jander, the ultra-evangelical boy and son of Professor Clésio. My parents put me in a cheap private school, paid with the help of an uncle who had a better situation. At this time, I still kept in touch with Anderson and I became friends with Jander. In order not to extend myself, I will say here that a traumatic event (before going to private school) caused by Anderson, made me drop everything and become evangelical, along with Jander and his whole family.