I was only doing what I had to do.

I was only making sure that they weren’t doing anything that would harm themselves or other people.

Why did I have to take a blow?

As soon as I felt their palm against my cheek twice after they spoke phrases I didn’t quite absorb, my body reacted.

I told them they don’t have the right to hit people.

They began to aggressively say things again but to me, they were just a jumble of words as my brain was starting to shut down on me.

The last thing I remember was turning my back on them and telling another person that I couldn’t do it anymore.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor of the staff room, tears streaming down my face, being comforted by the manager who was handing me a paper bag to regulate my breathing.

As soon as I calmed down, they told me to go home and take a rest.

Never in my wildest thoughts would I get slapped.

I have never been hit across the face before.

It didn’t hurt physically, but it sure did leave a hand-shaped print on my soul.

It became a new fear of mine, and the memory of it stills haunts me every day.