One afternoon, I found myself at my best friend Evie’s house, gathered with some classmates, when an incident occurred that left a lasting impression on me.

We were enjoying lunch and watching television when Evie suddenly left the room, only to return moments later holding a set of scales. Placing them in front of me, she asked, “How much do you weigh?”

Taken aback by the question, I admitted I had no idea.

Her response was direct: “There’s only one way to find out.” In that moment, I felt shocked, embarrassed, and defeated.

For the past two years, I had endured relentless teasing from these girls about my weight. At 15, wearing a size 14, their taunts were cruel; they would call me a pig and mimic oinking sounds as I changed for gym class. Evie knew the pain these remarks had caused me.

We’d been the closest of friends since we were nine; six years on, I still thought I could trust her.

For her to humiliate me in front of my bullies was devastating.

Part of me wondered whether, if I went along with it, the girls would finally leave me alone. So I stepped on the scales, willing them to register as small a number as possible.

There was a collective intake of breath as the dial stopped at 12st 7lb. ‘Wow, that’s even more than I thought,’ said one.

I grabbed my bag and ran out of the door, crying, while they howled with laughter.

Six years of friendship with Evie had evaporated – and with it my self-esteem and trust in others. From then on, she ignored me and never apologised. I’ll never understand why she became so cruel.

The far-reaching repercussions of childhood bullying are rarely discussed. My experience made me leave school at 16 – much to the surprise (and disappointment) of my parents and teachers.

Nearly 30 years on, aged 43, I’m still living with the consequences. The victimisation affected my ability to form relationships and made me distrustful of female friendship groups. It’s the reason I remain single with few friends.

When she was 15, Catherine was made to step on the scales by her best-friend-turned-bully Evie – in front of the girls who had been bullying her about her weight for two years 

The experience made Catherine leave school at 16. Now 43, she is still living with the consequences, unable to form relationships and distrustful of female friendship groups

It’s also why I never had children. I was terrified of having a daughter who would grow up to become a victim of bullying or become a bully herself.

I met Evie when we both moved to a new primary school within months of each other. Bonding over being outsiders and a love of books, we spent almost every evening and weekend together.

She became part of my family and we used to joke that because we both had older brothers, one of us should marry the other’s sibling so we could be sisters.

I assumed we’d be put in the same class at high school but I was wrong. I was painfully shy but Evie promised we’d still spend every lunchtime together and see each other after school.

I would hang around with Evie and her new friends but I often heard them say I was a nerd because I liked books and wasn’t into make-up and fashion.

I never heard Evie defend me. I told myself these friendships were new and she was just trying to fit in. But when we turned 14, it became more than that.

One day, six girls in my class decided everything I did was wrong. My parents refused to buy me branded trainers, so they called me a tramp and remarked: ‘Why waste money on someone as ugly as you?’

But in the bullies’ eyes my weight was the real problem. I was a size 14 on top and often wore oversized clothes to hide my body. Getting changed for PE, I had my skin pinched to show just how ‘flabby’ I was and, one day, a girl found a stretch mark and shouted, ‘She’s so fat her skin is bursting open’.

I refused to cry in front of them but I was devastated. I grew to hate my body and had dreams about cutting off hunks of flesh so I would be slimmer.

The bullies told me that boys found me disgusting because of my weight and an association was made. As long as I was fat, I was unlovable.

I started eating less, which began a pattern of disordered eating that lasted until my 30s.

At one point, I was consuming as little as 500 calories-a-day and dropped three dress sizes in a year.

Meanwhile, Evie’s betrayal started with her telling the bullies all my secrets, about my crushes and fear of the dark. In response, they locked me in a cupboard for an entire lunch break.

When I confronted Evie she told me it was all a ‘bit of fun’ and I was overreacting.

During the rare occasions we were alone together she was like her old self but, with them, she bitched about other friends behind their backs.

Then came the incident with the scales. Within six months I had left school, just after my 16th birthday, despite having been on course to get As and Bs in my exams and go on to university. It’s a decision my parents initially opposed but I secured a job as an office junior in a legal firm. Once again I struggled to make friends, suffering nightmares about being back at school.

At 17, my mood was so low I began having frequent panic attacks and suicidal thoughts.

My GP diagnosed me with anxiety and depression and I was put on medication, which I used until five years ago when, aged 38, I finally felt able to face life without pharmaceutical help.

It was when I was working in the legal firm that I met my first boyfriend.

In his early 30s, after initially bombarding me with affection he slowly alienated me from my family. He became physically and emotionally abusive, and by the time I left him, a year later, he had obliterated my final shreds of self-esteem.

In my late teens and 20s, I got trapped in a series of short-term relationships with abusive men. I was so desperate for love I didn’t see the red flags until it was too late.

I’ve struggled to form relationships since then, with a fleeting marriage in my 20s overshadowed by my depression. Barring a few flings, I’ve been single for a decade.

My fears about motherhood –and what any potential child of mine might face at school – made me less inclined to give relationships a chance.

It was only in my 30s that I started to find some peace. Devastated by the death of my mum to cancer at 59, I started seeing a therapist.

The therapist explained that formative experiences in childhood can shape adult behaviours. Research shows individuals who were bullied are more likely to have poorer physical and psychological health, even 40 years on.

I’d love to say I never think about Evie and the bullies but I have looked them up on social media. They seem settled, with partners and kids. It feels unfair they got away with it while my life was devastated by their actions. Have they ever thought about what they did to me?

It’s taken me a long time to get the life I wanted. After returning to education, I am now making a living as a professional writer and have some good friends. I can now see the best revenge is living well.

Evie’s name has been changed.