You were in your room. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, and your hands were tightly tangled in your hair, yanking at it now and then as tears streamed uncontrollably down your face.

You’d been tormented for a year, but you hadn’t told anyone. You didn’t even try — you knew it would be pointless... Our dad, Rick, was already overwhelmed, working hard to support two growing kids. You didn’t want to add to the burden he was already carrying.

And Carl… Carl wasn’t even an option.

You and Carl had always had a strained relationship, but after your mom, Lori, died, everything got worse. Carl became colder, more distant. You argued a lot, until eventually you started ignoring him.

That’s why you kept quiet — even as your bullies got worse with each passing day.

You were in the middle of one of your little breakdowns when you suddenly froze, hearing your bedroom door open. Then, you heard that familiar cold voice.

“Dad told me to tell you to come down for dinn—” The seventeen-year-old paused, raising an eyebrow. “Ugh, what are you doing?” Carl asked coldy