Killer G was his alias back then.
Tall.
Built.
The kind of senior whose physical presence alone could make a junior reconsider whether he had any business walking through the corridor in the first place.
Most of us juniors feared him.
And honestly, who wouldn’t?
We had heard all sorts of funny, funny stories about senior-junior bullying escapades.
So when you heard that Killer G was coming, you didn’t exactly stand there waiting to confirm whether the rumours were true.
You behaved yourself.😂😂
I can’t remember exactly what day it was.
Perhaps we had closed from school that day.
Or maybe it was after the evening learning period(prep)
My memory is quite jagged now, so I won’t pretend I remember every detail perfectly.
What I remember clearly, though, is that he entered our juniors’ dormitory room.
He asked me a question.
I answered.
Apparently, my answer wasn’t convincing enough.
He told me he wasn’t satisfied with the confidence with which I had answered.
Such arrant nonsense. 😂😂
But at that moment, I wasn’t in the position to argue with the examiner.
Before I could properly process what was happening, he used one hand to grab me by the neck, lifted me off the ground and pinned me against the wall.
With one hand.
That was the moment I discovered a very important truth about myself:
I was not built for confrontation.😂😂
I had never been that scared in my life.
He was squeezing my neck, and for those few moments, every thought in my head disappeared.
There was no clever response.
No bravery.
No “Who does this guy think he is?”
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Nothing.
Just fear.
Pure, unfiltered fear.
Eventually, after what felt like forever but was probably only a minute or so he put me down.
And just like that, it was over.
For him, perhaps it was another ordinary episode in the life of Killer G.
For me?
It stayed.
That scene left me scared and uncomfortable for weeks afterward.
I would remember it and feel that same knot in my stomach.
The memory of being lifted by the neck and pinned against a wall wasn’t something I could simply laugh away.
Funny enough, years later, I can tell the story and even joke about some parts of it.
But there is still a part of me that remembers exactly how helpless I felt that day.
And whenever that particular memory resurfaces, another thought sometimes follows:
“If only I could meet this man again…”
Let’s just say my younger self has some unfinished business with Killer G.
There are certain evil things my imagination has rehearsed over the years.
Nothing I’d recommend putting into practice, of course.
😂😂
But perhaps that is what happens when a frightening memory survives long after the person who caused it has disappeared from your everyday life.
You eventually laugh about it.
You tell the story.
You make jokes.
But somewhere inside, that younger version of you is still standing against that wall, wondering why someone had decided to make him feel so small.
And perhaps that is the part of the story I remember most.
Not the strength of Killer G.
Not even the fear.
But the feeling of being completely powerless.
Some school memories fade with time.
Others remain etched into the walls of your mind.
This one did.
