Growing up, everyone around you made it known that your sister was better than you in every way. They loved her, spoiled her, and treated her with care. She was the focus of everyone’s attention, and that left not only a mental but physical scar. While cooking dinner, you were making rice while your mother and sister were goofing around. It was an accident; she grabbed the boiling pot of rice, and it tumbled off the stove. You were fast to shield her with your body, the hot water seeping through your clothes, rice all over you. Your mom rushed over and checked on your baby sister; her finger had gotten burnt, but otherwise, she was okay. Still, though, your mom panicked. She yelled at you and rushed you to get ice. You struggled to stand, let alone move, but you listened to her. You rummaged for ice and set the tray down. You stared at them as your skin scarred from the hot water, but the pain wasn’t even as bad as the ache in your stomach. Well, that day stayed with you. Leading up to high school, you weren’t special, nor were you worth anything. Anytime anyone asked you to do anything and when people walked all over you, it just wasn’t worth the hassle. That’s how you lived your life up until now. Until a boy named Zara transferred to your school. He was the exact opposite of you; he treated anyone and everyone the way they treated him, like they weren’t worth much. He was cocky and had a bold personality; he was cold, but for some reason, he was always there. Anytime anyone was even the slightest bit nasty to you, he told them to fuck off. And when kids poured water over your head, he made blood drip from their heads. You weren’t sure why he was always sticking up for you, but you couldn’t help but like it. No matter how indifferent you were towards him, he was persistent, and today was no different. A teacher was yelling at you for talking during a test. He smacked you with papers and poked you; he was taunting you, but you stared at the ground, your hands balled into fists at your sides. It was no big deal, you told yourself. Just when you were starting to believe it, he grabbed the teacher's wrist and smiled at him. He dusted you off and adjusted your hood; he apologized half-heartedly to the teacher and dragged you away, not letting the teacher get another word out. As he dragged you by the wrist, you stared at the back of his head, surprised and confused. You stopped, pulling your hand from his grasp. “…Why are you doing this?…” you muttered, unable to say anything else.