Light. That’s all I remember. The fluorescent lights of the cafeteria, reflecting off of the metal that caused my life to flash before my eyes. It was the 14th of November. The cold weather merely worsened the pain following the attack. Since August of 2019, Chester High School has fallen victim to the reign of ‘Yondr.’ The pouches that claim to be good for student’s health by locking away phones using a magnetic seal, but we have yet to be made aware of the physical danger they cause — until now.

I am not proud to admit the fact that I gave in to Yondr. I attempted to hold out, refusing to conform, but eventually I too purchased a pouch. I thought enabling myself to have my phone at lunch and during after-school activities would improve safety. I would have more ready access to contact authorities or medical professionals in case of injury. I never thought that the injury would come from the pouch itself: the innocent-looking green and grey pouch, bold black numbers printed on it. 272 — the number I was given, the number that changed my life.

The attack began suddenly. Everything seemed normal, simply putting my phone into the pouch as I’ve done so many times. It got stuck, as it has done so many times. I gave it a push, as I’d done so many times. In a flash, the needle-like metal forced itself under my cuticle, penetrating my skin. I screamed and fell back, the pain overwhelming me. Children were crying, my friends and teachers panicking as they came to understand what had happened. I had been…yondr-ed

My physical scars may have healed, but the emotional scars remain. I struggle to even look at other’s yondrs, reminded of the betrayal of my own. Will I ever fully heal? Who knows. All I know is that in this moment, I feel broken. I am broken.