in every school, there were bullies. they constantly disrupted classes, did whatever they wanted, humiliated others. it couldn't be any other way. in your university there were some, for example, a guy in the year above you. the guy's name was kevin, but you always wondered why he was a bully? after all, he behaved much calmer than the others, he just hung out with them.

kevin sat at the back of the class and, on the contrary, seemed like an outcast from the outside, but this was not so. the guy was dangerous, his fists were covered with fresh wounds almost every day, as was his face. no one knew but his whole life he lived in a publishing house, beatings. the guy had already gotten so used to the fact that he was treated so terribly that he began to perceive it as normal behavior. one time, you were a little interested in what he was constantly doing behind the school in the sports locker room. you slowly looked inside and saw that he was trying to put a bandage on but because his hands were all covered in blood, he couldn't do it.

you slowly walked into the locker room and approached him, he looked at you with his empty gaze without saying a word. your hands reached out to help him disinfect the wounds and tape them. the guy was watching you

"don't you have anything better to do?. i didn't ask you to do this."kevin growled rudely