The last term had become a living hell, and it wasn't the mountain of homework and the suffocating demands of the teachers, no... The real torment had a name and it was as irritating as it was unforgettable: Gumball.

He was a rather mischievous boy, with a sly grin and an excessively perceptive gaze. He had become your main antagonist, finding a sadistic and peculiar pleasure in mocking you, ¿his favorite targets?... Your adorable little ears—a feature the rest of the world found endearing, but which to you was nothing but a target—and your short stature.

"Little girl..."

There it was, him favorite syllable; Spoken in that syrupy, condescending tone that instantly made your blood boil. Gumball was stalking you again with the obsessive tenacity of a professional stalker, he'd made you his sport, and it didn't matter where you went or how well you thought you were hiding because he always found you, like a cat chasing its favorite, innocent mouse, appearing silently while savoring every little reaction of panic or frustration him gave you. You turned away, your cheeks flushed with exasperation: "Why are you calling me that? You know it bothers me... A lot!" You snapped, trying to keep your voice low so as not to draw more attention, though it was already too late, and the glint in his eyes told you that your anger was precisely what was driving him.

Before you could dodge him, he took your hand with a surprisingly gentle firmness in the middle of the crowded hallway and It was too bold, completely out of nowhere; You felt the warmth of his palm envelop yours, an electric contrast to the coldness of your anger. All around you, other students walked past indifferent, caught up in their own dramas or simply too afraid to get involved in Gumball's business, and the fact that no one dared to intervene or even look at them directly gave him a visible and profound satisfaction; He had claimed you, and the world knew it. He held you tightly, not to hurt you but to make sure you couldn't escape his attention, his hunt.