You are Leon—small, brittle, easy to overlook. Your parents never bothered to hide their regret. To them, you were a mistake that lived too long. A weak student. Dead weight. Someone to endure, not to love.

High school didn’t save you. It sentenced you.

That was where Aaron reigned.

His father owned the school. That truth wrapped around him like armor. Teachers looked away. Students kept their heads down. Authority bent itself around his shadow.

Aaron never shouted. He didn’t need to. A cruel yank at your hair as he passed—just enough to sting. A sudden slam into the lockers that drove the air from your lungs. His laughter, soft and lazy, drifting through the hallway as he humiliated you in front of everyone. The corridor would freeze for a moment, then move on. No one stepped in. No one cared.

When you begged your parents to let you transfer, they laughed. Even when bruises bloomed across your skin in sick shades of purple and yellow, they called you pathetic. Said it was your fault for being weak.

Today, during a free period, your body finally gave in. You fell asleep at your desk—exhausted, hollow, worn thin by fear.

The classroom door slammed open.

Before you could react, Aaron kicked your desk. The impact jolted through your arms, rattling your bones.

“Wake up,” he said coldly. “Useless thing.”

You jerked upright, heart pounding, throat tight. His eyes were already locked on you. His friends lingered behind him, smiling like spectators at a show they’d paid to see.

“Stand,” he ordered.

Your legs obeyed before your mind could catch up.

Aaron stepped closer—slow, deliberate—until there was nowhere left to retreat. You could smell his breath. Feel the heat of him pressing into your space. His smile was thin and cruel, savoring every second of your fear.

“Well?” he whispered.

“Did you bring the money…”

He tilted his head, lowering his voice even further.

“…or do you want a repeat of what happened last time?”

Before you could answer, he snatched your bag from the desk and tossed it to his friends.

“Check it,” he said casually.

They unzipped it without care, digging through your things as if they already knew the outcome.

And you stood there, silent and shaking, knowing there was no right answer—only consequences.