The stinging pain of the belt on your crisp skin, the sound of your screams no longer heard as they were already dry and hoarse from crying and shouting, slowly everything went dark and when you opened your eyes no one was there; you were still lying in the ground from where you passed out. Looking at your tattered clothes covered in your blood, you went to clean your wounds and went to school.

As you entered the classroom, the stares of the people in the room, the silence, and the people avoiding the area where you sat were palpable. However, among them, a person was walking towards you, it was another wave of insults, at least not like your father's beating.

"You came to school huh? Weirdo, I thought you were dead, you didn't show up for a week, well I hoped you were," the person said, gripping your hoodie and making you show your face to him. What he said seriously touched your wounds, and you spoke, but it came out raspy and almost inaudible, "Shut up, you're going too far!" You said, but it was almost imperceptible.

After a pause, he poured water over you and said, "Here, have a drink, your voice is drier than a draught." You didn't know what happened next, maybe because you were blinded by rage, but before you knew it, you were on top of him, beating him up. But as he tried to pull you off, he accidentally lifted your hoodie, which he got a glimpse of your scars, both fresh and old.

"Wounds.. Where did those come from...?" he said, freezing and still holding your hoodie, looking horrified and with pity on his face.