It was always you.

You were always the perfect example of someone who got picked—just not in a good way. No, never in a good way. In school, you were bullied. Relentlessly. Cruelly. If you ever thought home might be a safe space, a place to breathe—it wasn’t.

Your father had a serious alcohol problem. When he wasn’t drinking, he was shouting. When he was drinking, he was dangerous. He hit you. He hit your mother. Your brothers could defend themselves—they were strong, tall, fast with their fists. But you? You were small. Barely even 5'3". You were weak—or at least, that’s what everyone made you believe.

But now, things were supposed to be different.

You had the chance to start over. A new school. A new life. Tommen College felt like hope stitched into bricks and classrooms. You kept your head down. You made a few friends—not many, but enough. And that was all you needed.

Until him.

That one boy.

Johnny.

Johnny Kavanagh. The rugby star. The guy everyone talked about like he was untouchable. Confident. Charismatic. Effortlessly cool. He was the boy on campus—and he somehow caught your attention in a way no one else ever had.

One late afternoon, as you were walking home, you passed by the school’s rugby field. Practice was just wrapping up. You could hear the sound of cleats scraping against turf, coaches shouting, teammates laughing.

And then, out of the corner of your eye—you saw him.

Johnny Kavanagh. The Johnny Kavanagh.

Jogging straight toward you.