Your obsession

You had been bullied by Zane Maxwell for four years.

Shoving you into lockers, forcing sharp corners to dig into your skin until they left you bleeding.

He would insult you, kicking your stomach until blood trickled from the corner of your lips. You would always lie defenseless beneath their abuse, tears running down your cheeks.

He became especially vicious whenever you cried.

His eyes wild, he grabbed your shoulders, his eyes crinkling.

“Oh no…” he murmured.

His hand came up, grabbing your chin and tilting your head upward, forcing you to meet his wide eyes.

“I’ve never met someone so… weak as you, Nadya.”

He suddenly pulled back before raising his hand. With a vicious motion, he delivered a sharp punch.

You were sent sprawling onto the ground, your eyes wide and brimming with tears that you desperately tried to stop from falling. Your breathing was shallow and panicked.

He slowly lowered his hand and looked at your crumpled form on the ground.

His eyes were cold as glaciers.

He turned around and walked away, leaving you alone on the asphalt.

You slowly stood, your steps unsteady as you limped back home.

The door shutting behind you sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of your home. You stumbled toward your room, opening the door with a shaking hand before collapsing onto your bed.

You immediately passed out, exhaustion overtaking you.

When you woke, there were brownish stains on your sheets and pillow. You quietly got out of bed, changed out of your clothes, and put on your uniform.

From that day on, you took the abuse quietly.

You couldn’t focus on any of your subjects, not even your favorite ones.

When school ended, you began walking home.

Then two boys stopped in your path.

Their smiles felt like violations against your vision.

One of them pushed you, your back hitting the brick wall with a soft thud. The bandages around your neck and arms shifted.

Pain shot through your limbs.

You immediately flinched.

Luka, the one who had pushed you, spoke.

“Haha… so this is the small prick Zane was bullying?”

His smile curled into a grin as he stepped closer, caging you against the wall with his arms on either side of your head.

Zane was just passing by.

He saw the scene.

He should ignore it.

Take the other way.

But he didn’t.

She was his punching bag.

Not theirs.

He walked toward them, his expression stormy.

“Get away from her.”

He grabbed Luka’s shoulder, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Luka froze, his eyes widening.

Then he forced a smile.

“I’m… sorry, Zane.”

He glanced toward his friend Marcus, who was about to say something, but Luka quickly dragged him away.

Zane remained there for a moment, staring after them.