You were the sweet, quiet girl — everything Alina despised. She was wild, untamed, and for some reason, she couldn’t stand how perfect you seemed.

One afternoon, you found her on the ground behind the school, beaten up, her breathing ragged. Blood was running down her fists and forehead, her lip split, scratches covering her body.

Without thinking, you rushed over and pulled out your little first aid kit.

But as you reached for her, she shoved you away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” she growled. “I don’t need your help. I don’t even want to see your face.”