I love the "If you just fight back" statements.
I did fight back. I was also shorter, lighter, and less psychopathic than most of my bullies. Fighting back never went well. It merely amused my tormentors.
My parents did step in. They did everything short of going to the cops. That just meant the bullying got meaner but sneakier, and I was soon begging them not to interfere, because every time they did, things got worse.
It's easy to say that the adults around should have done something. They didn't. I got sick. I developed stress-induced asthma. I got depressed and suicidal. I wet my bed. The asthma made me worse at sports, which increased the bullying. The bullies found out about the bedwetting on a school trip. You can guess how that ended. And because the bullies were the popular kids in a small school, I was also ostracized.
I eventually seemed to 'get over it.' I even became 'friends' with my bullies. All that meant was that I locked it all up inside. I learned to to grin mirthlessly when someone said something that hurt. I developed a truly evil talent at mocking people subtly, so that I'd get some satisfaction, even though they didn't know it.
And it's warped me. The one time I "fought back" I took one of my tormentors to pieces. He was the smallest, weakest of them, and he normally only bullied me when the others were around. He made the mistake of finding me alone, reading a book, once, and tried to play the usual game of snatching it away and taunting me with it. He never did it again...when he was alone. And I felt terrible about it, because I had just beaten up someone smaller and weaker than me.
My sarcasm wounds my closest friends, because my reflex is to take verbal advantage of any weakness anyone displays. And I feel terrible about that, and try to curb my tongue, but it's a constant struggle.
I've had my revenge now, such as it is. Most of the guys who bullied me are in dead-end jobs, while I've got a rather nice life doing what I enjoy, with even better prospects once I'm done with grad school. I'm independent of my parents, and they're proud of me, while some of my bullies are still living at home, and some of them have been in rehab and one guy's parents had to pull a lot of strings to keep him out of jail.
But that isn't enough. Every time I go home, I have to hang out with these guys, because they're the only people I know. And every so often, one of them, with a apologetic smirk, will say "Hey, remember how we bullied you? We're cool now, right?" I'll probably hear it sometime in the next week - I'm visiting home right now.
And I want to say "No, we're not. We'll be cool after you get punched hard, every day for the next five years. We'll be cool after you can't breathe properly because of all the stress. We'll be cool after you're suicidal and depressed. We'll be cool after you endure two months of silent treatment at your workplace because you told someone about harassment. We'll be cool after I punch you in the groin hard enough that you feel bruised and walk funny for a month. We'll be cool after you wake up every morning for years with a pit in your stomach, and ask "Why me?""
But I won't. I'll bare my teeth briefly, grunt, and change the subject. And everyone will forget except me. I'll keep the rage bottled up, and then slowly exhale it over weeks, by riding my bike in the hills, by writing essays that nobody will ever read, and in the gym, and in ten days I'll forget all about it, because I won't be at home anymore.
So, to all you former bullies, don't apologize, because it isn't enough. And because when you apologize, it's about you, just as it was all those years ago. You want absolution. You may think you get it, but all you've done is simply re-open old wounds. And somewhere, you're still saying "Remember back in school, when I was better than you, and made you cry?"