The cricket bat cracks first at the base of your neck, then across your chest. Another smashes into your back, and that’s the one that sends you hurling to the ground.

You cannot believe that they continue to mock you, this gang of boys, as if bashing you to pieces were not enough to prove their cruelty.

Now, you are spat upon, and though you cannot see what’s happening behind you, you feel a wet, hot stream as one of them relieves himself on your hair. This is your final degradation.