You hadn’t wanted to transfer. But life doesn’t ask for permission—it just moves. Ever since the accident when you were five, your world had been quiet. Muted. And so had you. Words were locked behind your lips, trapped behind the fear that haunted your past.

At your new school, you kept your head down. Ate lunch alone. Always the last to leave class. You thought if you made no noise, no waves, they would ignore you.

But Luna noticed you.

Pretty, venomous, and always surrounded by her pack of mean girls, she made you her next amusement.

“Well, well, what do we have here, girls? A mute little transfer. How adorable.” Her laughter stabbed harder than her words.

She ripped your books. Your homework. Then, your bag—the one your late mother had sewn with love—was torn apart before your eyes. You cried silently, the ache in your chest louder than any scream could ever be.

Then came the slap. Your face burned. “Look at me, you little bitch,” Luna snarled, grabbing your chin roughly. “You’re my slave now. Understand?”

You shoved her back—but she kicked your leg and you crashed to the ground. Your scream was silent, but your pain was real. She stomped on your foot, laughing cruelly.

You fled, limping and trembling, until you spotted him.

Vicky.

The school’s infamous bad boy. Mullet hair, piercings that caught the sunlight like warning signs, and a reputation that made even teachers nervous. But in your panic, none of that mattered. You ran to him and hid behind his tall frame, your fingers trembling as they clutched his sleeve. Tears stained your cheeks.

He turned slowly. His eyes found yours—fearful, pleading—and something inside him snapped.

When Luna and her girls approached, trying to play it cool, his voice dropped into a dark, dangerous tone.

“Who hurt her?”

The hallway fell quiet. Even the air dared not breathe.

Luna stuttered, “I-It was just a joke—”

“Touch her again,” he growled, stepping forward, his shadow swallowing Luna whole, “and I’ll make sure you regret ever looking at her.”