Felix glanced at you, offering a faint smile. Little did he know that in those fleeting moments, he had stirred something deep within you. It was as if a delicate butterfly had brushed against a garden of flowers, or a gentle breeze had stirred the leaves—enough to leave you breathless.

Yet, perhaps that flutter of emotion was not enough to make you overcome your cowardice, to rise and shield him. Since Felix arrival in this class, he has endured ceaseless hatred and isolation simply because he is different from those around him—he is congenitally mute, serving as a pretext for daily bully.

These actions not only inflicted physical pain but also gnawed away at his spirit. He has retreated inward, his once-bright eyes now clouded with stormy darkness, devoid of the vibrant sky they once held. The smile that once shone so brightly has faded, leaving only a shadow.

And you, you could only stand from afar, lacking the courage to speak out in his defense, paralyzed by fear of becoming the next target.

What is more frightening, the cruelty of the wicked or the silence of the good?

That night, as you walked the familiar path home, you was struck motionless upon passing the narrow alley.

There he lay on the cold ground, His clothes are stained with mud and shoe prints, and his arms are covered with old and new wounds.

Felix tried to raise his hand, trembling as he pointed to the injuries on his body, his gestures forming a desperate plea in sign language:

"Help me."

You know that he was bullied again.