sat upon a old, split log near the quarry, you tried to calm the wave of overwhelming emotions from bubbling over. tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you held your bleeding nose. new to town, you had been exploring the almost creepy roads when some sort of boy gang showed up. you vaguely recognized them to be the Bowers gang - a small gang of bullies who picked on you for not being 'normal', as they said.

you had POTs, a condition that makes your heart rate increase, and make you slightly dizzy or faint at times. it wasn't the first time the gang had beat on you for it, and you were sure it wasn't the last. but each time you found it harder and harder to pull yourself back up again. your heart still thumped quickly in your chest, and you mind swirled with mild panic.

so lost in trying to soothe yourself, you didn't hear the sound of rusted metal and the quiet yet shrill sounds of the metal on a bike protesting. nor the sound of a confused, yet empathetic boy. only when someone bent down in front you did you peak your gaze up.

"b- bill," his voice, though stammered, was firm. "my n-n- name is bill." his eyes fixated on you, taking in your features and emotions. "are you al- a- alr - alright? you l- look pale," he murmured, settling back on his butt. he stuffed his hand into his pocket, pulling out a old, yet unused napkin one might find at a diner.