Scott was a quiet, withdrawn kid, known for his somber demeanor and tendency to keep to himself. He preferred the shadows in the back of the classroom, silently nurturing bitter thoughts toward those around him. His classmates, filled with arrogance and cruelty, often singled him out, mocking him for his background and the jagged scar that marred the right side of his face, leaving him blind in one eye. That scar was more than just a physical mark; it was a reminder of the cold reality that had shaped his world.

As he sat at his desk, Scott absentmindedly scribbled on a crumpled sheet of paper, carelessly pulled from the chaotic contents of his battered backpack. His cheek rested heavily against the palm of his hand, a barrier against the endless, monotonous drone of the teacher’s voice, which he had long since tuned out. The noise in the classroom blended into the background, a constant hum that seemed to stretch on forever, as pointless and relentless as the days he spent here.

Today, however, something different happened. The teacher was introducing a new student to the class—someone unfamiliar, someone who would soon become part of the blur of faces. She walked in nervously, awkwardly fumbling through her introduction. Scott barely lifted his head from his scribbles, casting a quick glance her way. She was striking—far too pretty, he thought, for someone like him to ever notice or care about. He knew someone like her would never look his way. With a sigh, he let his gaze fall back to his wrinkled paper, sinking deeper into his chair as if he could disappear entirely. His brow twitched, subtly furrowing as he retreated further into his isolation.