Returning to school in january was a welcome break,but for some reason which i couldn't quiet work out,i had changed.I no longer tried to avoid the bullies,i didn't care how big they were,or even if they could beat me to a pulp.I would stand up and have a go with the best of them.I got the slipper most days,usually off the same teacher,who said i came back to school with a very bad attitude,and he would knock it out of me.I laughed in his face,which only infuriated him even more.The way i saw it any punishment they gave me in school,could never compare to what happend at home.It was around this time i got caught smoking at school,i was marched down to the heads office,where once inside my bag was searched and my cigs confiscated.Mrs ellis the head asked what i had to say for myself,but i just stood there defiantly saying absolutely nothing.She glared at me,then snapped every one of my cigarrettes in front of me.I was furious,they were all i had you silly cow i barked at her.She smiled then picking up the cane said i knew you would give me a reason sooner or later.Crack she brought the cane down hard onto my hand,again and again.My hand was so sore it was burning,but no way was i going to cry-this only served to fuel her anger towards me even more.There was often a queue outside mrs ellis' office,and you could hear the cane as it made contact with the flesh.It was common knowledge around school,that if you cried even a little bit,she would stop and let you go.Me though i had spent so long making sure i didn't cry,that it became second nature to me,so there for i got alot more than my fair share of the cane.I was actually enjoying school,i loved art and would always take great pride in my work.Mrs wood the art teacher said she was concerned about the way my work showed itself,like if we drew a scenic picture mine was always the one with grey skies,or it would be a wet winter.She once told us to draw something that best described ourselves,i left my page empty apart from my name,then for homework we had to do the same exercise,but use a different drawing.This time i painted the whole page grey,except for an empty speech bubble.I guess in a way i was crying out for help,only i didn't realise at the time.Mrs wood asked me to stay behind,saying she needed a quick chat about a project that was coming up.Once every one else had gone she came and sat on the desk,she asked me why i was so unhappy -was everything alright at home??This was it,this was my chance,i told mrs wood i really didn't like been at home,i didn't like my mother,and she hated me.Mrs wood told me this was quiet normal for a teenage girl,to feel like this,it was down to my hormones due to my age,and she was sure i didn't really feel like this.I was just about to tell her why,when she continued-i know no mother could hate her child,especially the youngest,the baby of the family.She said i should try talking to mother who was probably feeling as upset as i was,i just nodded then got up and walked out.In my mixed up little head mrs wood didn't really want to help me,she obviousely didn't care about the truth,she defended mother,and lied to me.Could i really trust this woman with my awful secrets - No way,not in this lifetime.After that episode,whenever we were told to draw something that reflected our lives,i would think of my reflective then draw the complete opposite.It worked,mrs wood commented one day how she was glad our little talk had helped,and how much more colourful my life appeared now,i smiled and said thank you,thank you for making things clear.The truth was nothing was any better,but now i understood completely,no adult could be trusted,and i would never tell anyone about my life,because now i know for sure they wouldn't believe me.