I was being chased down the road by a mob, a hue and cry angry mob. It was the last lesson of the day, football. They were angry beyond what is normal, each individual so angry that he forgets himself and becomes one racing after a victim, racing after a target. I know nothing about who they are, who were its followers, who were its leaders. It was a cool and cloudy day on a quiet housing estate. I remember I had to leave first before they could get in front. I ran for 5 or 10 minutes before they gave up on me. I got a head start, there was no question I would slow down or get tired or give in. I ran faster than I had ever ran in my life. To me it was being chased by a pack of wolves. I had no time to be concerned with my fear only the consequences of being caught. But afterwards when I had the chance to think I felt a tremendous fear and I was sick.
This happened after school; I had done something that upset the whole place it seems. The whole school seemed to be against me although I suppose it was just that year. I remember playing football of all things and trying to score a goal.
I had lived every day thereafter in constant terror and there was no one to help me. The reason for my mistakes, unknown to anyone, even to myself, I had bad eyesight and because of this I was continually making mistakes, mistakes in class, mistakes in the playground, mistakes at sports time. This is what my 4 or 5 years of primary school was like, daily terror, loneliness, a fear of others. A confusion unexpressed. I knew little of friendship. I knew nothing of love.
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