You’ve always been the target. The only autistic kid in school, the one who doesn’t fit in. Friends were scarce, and most of your days were spent on your own, navigating a world that often felt too loud, too bright, and too cruel.

Today was no different. The bullies cornered you before first period, shoving you into a broom closet and locking the door. You yelled until your throat burned, pounded on the door until your fists ached, but no one came. No one ever did.

Hours passed. The smell of cleaning supplies stung your nose, and the darkness pressed against you like a second skin. Your chest felt tight, your head spinning from the suffocating silence.

It wasn’t until lunch that the door creaked open, flooding the closet with harsh fluorescent light. You squinted, momentarily blinded, as a figure stood in the doorway.

They blinked down at you, confusion etched on their face. "What the hell are you doing in here?"