The Day My Best Friend Beat Me Up
I was 14 when my best friend invited me to Marina Square for a shopping trip.
I wore my favourite white baby-doll dress. I was looking forward to spending time shopping with my best friend.
I had no idea I would return home with that dress torn, bruises on my body, and a memory that would haunt me for decades.
It was around 1993. I was in Secondary Two, and my best friend was also my classmate. We spent time together during recess, before lessons and after school. I enjoyed her company. I trusted her.
What I didn't realise was that she had been carrying a grudge against me.
She liked a boy who happened to be my neighbour. Somehow, she became convinced that I was interested in him too.
I wasn't. I had absolutely no interest in him. But jealousy doesn't always listen to reason.
When I arrived at Marina Square, my best friend wasn't alone. She had brought several other girls. My hair stood on end when I saw all of them, and I could sense that something was very wrong.
They led me to the top floor of the shopping centre, where there was an outdoor spiral staircase. It was an isolated area. Most shoppers used the indoor escalators and lifts, so there were few people around.
That was where they attacked me.
Even today, I cannot remember exactly how it started or what everyone said. I cannot recall every blow or the sequence of what happened.
Some parts of that afternoon remain a blank in my memory. But I remember my white dress being dirtied and ripped.
I remember the bruises on my arms, legs and the side of my face. And I remember what happened after they left.
I was sitting alone on the staircase, crying.
My beautiful white dress was dirty and torn. The girls were gone. Nobody was there to comfort me.
I don't know how long I sat there. I only remember weeping, trying to understand how someone I loved and trusted could do something so cruel.
Eventually, I found the strength to get up. I took the bus home.
And I told nobody.
I wasn't particularly close to my parents. I was afraid to tell my teachers. I also didn't want my best friend to get into trouble.
She had betrayed me, yet some part of me still wanted to protect her. Looking back, I find it heartbreaking that my younger self did not feel that I deserved help and support after being beaten up by my best friend when I had done nothing wrong.
My parents apparently noticed nothing unusual. I went on with my life as though nothing had happened.
My best friend avoided me afterwards. So did another girl who had helped her. There was no apology. No explanation. No attempt to make things right.
Our friendship simply ended. But the fear stayed.
Whenever I saw those girls, I wanted to hide.
I became easily startled. I avoided isolated staircases. In classrooms and buses, I preferred sitting at the back. During school assemblies, I would hide behind someone. I began walking with my eyes lowered, avoiding eye contact.
Even today, violent scenes in movies can overwhelm me. Sometimes I close my eyes and ask my husband to tell me when the scene is over.
For years, I thought these behaviours were simply part of my personality.
I didn't understand how much that afternoon had changed me. Worse, I carried a terrible sense of shame.
Had I done something wrong? Should I have explained myself better? Could I have prevented the attack?
I kept searching for something I might have done differently.
It took me years to understand that I was asking myself all the wrong questions.
I was a 14-year-old girl who had trusted her friend. I had done nothing to deserve what happened.
As I grew older, I began studying psychology, exploring personal development and learning more about emotional healing. Eventually, I found my calling in mental health work.
There was no single moment when everything changed. Healing happened gradually, through years of learning to understand myself and the beliefs I had carried.
I also learned to forgive my former friend.
I have never told her. We lost contact long ago, and I don't know where she is today.
My forgiveness was something I needed for myself. I no longer wanted that afternoon to have such power over my life.
I have also learned to treat myself with greater kindness.
There was a time when a small mistake would make me scold myself.
"Why are you so stupid, Joy?"
Today, if I drop a cup, I can laugh, clean up the mess and move on.
That may sound like a small change, but to me, it represents years of healing.
Today, I work as a mental health coach, helping people understand their emotions, heal from painful experiences and find their voices.
Sometimes I think about that frightened girl sitting alone on the staircase at Marina Square.
I can still picture her in her dirty, ripped white dress, crying because the person she trusted had betrayed her.
If I could travel back to that afternoon, I would sit beside her.
I would put my arms around her and give her the hug nobody gave her that day. And I would whisper:
"My baby girl, you did nothing wrong.
"You didn't deserve what happened to you. You don't have to carry the shame of something someone else chose to do.
"You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to ask for help.
"One day, you're going to become a mental health coach. You're going to help other people find their voices, just as you will eventually find yours.
"And most importantly, I want you to know that I love you so much."
For more than 30 years, I have carried the memory of that girl sitting alone on the staircase. Today, when I picture her, I no longer see only the frightened child who was abandoned there. I see someone I wish I could have held.
And in a way, I finally can.
Told by June Joy Leng
Written by Sam Choo
Story Tags: Bullying, Betrayal, Healing
Joy Leng is a Singapore-based embodied mental health coach who helps people understand themselves, heal from painful experiences and reconnect with their authentic selves.
