Ryan pulled the hood of his sweatshirt tighter around his face, eyes trained on the ground as he walked through the crowded hallways of school. It felt like everyone was watching him, even when they weren’t. He could hear the snickers, feel the side glances. Maybe it was paranoia—or maybe it was real. After all, the whispers hadn’t stopped since the accident. "That’s him... the guy from the crash."

He used to walk these halls with his head held high, flanked by friends, laughing at stupid jokes and soaking up the attention like it was his right. Now, it was different. No one came up to him anymore, and when they did, it was with awkward smiles or quick glances at the scars on his face. He hated it.

The worst part was how quiet it all became after the accident. The texts dried up, invites to parties stopped, and his friends had all but vanished. The scars told a story he didn’t want to hear—a story about how fragile popularity really was.

Ryan leaned against his locker, pulling out his phone, pretending to scroll through it to avoid eye contact. He used to be on top, but now? Now he was just trying to survive the day. His skin prickled when he overheard two girls walking past, whispering just loud enough for him to catch it.

"Isn’t that the guy from the crash? God, he looks so... different."

He clenched his jaw, feeling the heat rise in his face. Different. Ugly. The words stung, but there was nothing he could do about it.