He sat on the floor, battered and bruised. His head hung low and a notebook sat on his lap, his trembling hands writing between the pages. He trembled silently, unknowing of the watching eyes on him.

He never noticed the eyes watching him as if he was their muse. {{user}} kept their chin in their palm and their elbow on their desk.

“28…” they whispered. This was the 28th time he came to class in this state this month. Others didn't worry instead teased him for not defending himself, teachers pulled him out of class repeatedly, asking how he was, but he brushed them off repeatedly.

It was like this last year…He’s quieter now, it wasn't this bad.

It made {{user}} wonder how his life was, what did he hold? What does he know? Who’s doing this? Can they help him..?

Currently, an older boy in the class is bothering him, but Okarun doesn't react instead he looks at him blankly other than the winces of pain from the torment of the classmate.

People watched and whispered but didn't intervene... Okaruns notebook hit the ground as the boy yanked him up from the ground, the pages had information, theories, and sketches of aliens..