A girl wore a pair of glasses and a sweater despite the hot sun. She had on black pants far too big for her legs, though they clung to her tiny waist. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, making her look as if she'd been stuffed into a sack. Hugging two books to her chest, her tiny legs moved quickly inside the oversized pants.
She ran without looking back. She had been running for over thirty minutes now. Exhausted, she slowed, panting, and rested her hands on her knees. She turned her head to glance over her shoulder, checking for any sign of her bullies. Surprisingly, there were none.
She hurriedly took a seat on a rusted bench, hugging her knees. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to muster the strength to calm herself. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She gripped the fabric over her chest, her knuckles turning white.
She tried to relax her mind, but it kept spinning with thoughts of how badly she would get hurt if they found her.
Minutes passed, and still, no one appeared—or at least, she saw no one. Finally, she exhaled in relief. Standing, she began walking casually, her breathing steadying—until she heard a sound. She spun around to see a plump boy holding a piece of wood.
"Found you," he muttered, a sinister smile curling at the corners of his thin pink lips. Before he could relish his moment of triumph, she vanished into thin air.
"That bitch! Does she think she can escape today?!" he shouted.
Meanwhile, Evelyn was already far beyond his reach. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She wasn't going to get hurt—not today. She would make sure of that.
They were in the backyard of the school compound—Evelyn and all her bullies, hunting her again. She ran with everything she had, like a bullet, not even noticing when she entered the forest. Evelyn stopped, glancing around at the shady, cool surroundings, when she heard footsteps approaching from the direction she'd come. Without thinking too much about where to hide, she climbed a tree.
One thing she loved was climbing trees. It brought her joy, and she had always loved climbing the apple tree at home. She remembered sneaking fruit every afternoon and night as a child, only to be scolded by her cousin.
In no time, she was near the very top. Perched on a thick branch, she tried to steady her breathing—completely forgetting about the books still in her arms. They slipped and fell to the ground, and her blood ran cold. The five bullies who had been scanning the area looked down, spotted the books, and then shifted their gaze upward—finding their prey.
"How brave! Would you look at that? She climbed a tree!" one of the sociopaths yelled, looking at the others, who only laughed darkly.
There were four girls and one boy who always bullied her as though she didn't belong there. And she knew she didn't belong, but they were still being unfair. She didn't even blame them much—she was weird.
Not knowing what else to do, she glanced from them to her books. The tree was big enough for her to leap from one to another, but she couldn't afford to lose the books. She would get them, even if it meant getting hurt.
The bullies didn't bother chasing her—they knew she would come down for the books.
She climbed down cautiously, landing with ease. Carefully, she moved to her books, picked them up, and hugged them tightly.
"Hilarious. Can you get any weirder?" the plump boy sneered, and they all laughed.
"You and those books of yours… You've done a lot of crazy things, but this takes the cake. You topping the whole school at graduation—unbelievable."
"She probably sabotaged the results!" one girl accused, taking a long drag from her cigarette as she advanced on Evelyn. Evelyn backed away, her muscles trembling.
The girl stepped forward, Evelyn stepped back—until her back hit a tree, startling her. The girl exhaled smoke directly into her face. Evelyn tried to hold her breath, but it was too late—the acrid smoke invaded her lungs. She coughed violently. She hated the smell of cigarettes, and she hated smokers—especially her psycho cousin, the number one offender.
Panting and coughing, she barely had time to recover before a punch slammed into her stomach. The impact knocked her to the ground. Pain shot through her lower abdomen, and she coughed up a trace of blood.
[Sinister laughter]
"So weak—you can't even fight back? But you can read books, huh?" they mocked.
"Hey, let me see those books," one of them said, reaching for them. Evelyn's body burned like molten lava, but she still clung to the books, jerking away as if they were her lifeline—the only thing worth living for.
The five bullies surrounded her and began kicking her. Each strike to her skin felt like the volcano inside her had been stoked tenfold. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she kept hugging the books, enduring the pain. They kicked her again and again until more blood spilled from her lips.
"Loser! Loser!"
"What do you think you are? Just because you topped the school, you think you're a hero?!"
The more they yelled, the more vicious their attacks became. Soon, they were punching her and ripping her thick sweater. She didn't even struggle—she could never get used to this pain or these bullies.
She prayed to the heavens for help—any help. But the only person who came to mind was her psycho cousin, Simon.
The next thing she felt was a searing, electrifying pain that seemed to pierce her mind as well. The bullies had pressed lit cigarettes to her neck. She tried to hold on, hoping for pity, but none came.
The plump boy even stomped on her elbows. "Ah!" she cried. The word "pain" felt far too small for what she was enduring.
"Haha, still holding those books, huh?" one taunted with a devilish grin. They weren't surprised—Evelyn had no parents and lived with Simon's mother. She had a hard life, and books were her only escape. She hid herself from everyone, wearing oversized clothes that made people think she was a weirdo. That's how the bullying had started.
Soon, they ripped off her shoes and beat her with them. She probably looked like a bloodied rag doll by now, her skin shredded.
"Die already! Wait… what's that smell?" one girl asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Hahaha, smells like rotten blood—disgusting."
"Evelyn! Didn't you change your pads? Oh, that's right—you use rags!" another girl jeered. She lunged for Evelyn's pants, trying to pull them down.
"Let me go! Don't touch me!" Evelyn struggled weakly, trying to keep them from pulling out the blood-soaked cloth. But one girl ripped it free, holding it up with a smirk. Evelyn's face flushed with shame as they rubbed it against her bloodied face.
She could only cry. Then, too weak to fight, she felt the books ripped from her hands. They tore them into tiny pieces. Bia, their leader, told them it was time to go. She hated Evelyn, and Evelyn hated her with equal intensity.
"Come on, guys, let's get moving!" Bia said, glaring down at Evelyn's half-dead form.
"I'd hate to inform you… no one is going anywhere," a husky voice cut through the air.
That was the last thing Evelyn remembered. When she woke, she saw multiple bodies lying unconscious in the mud, stained crimson. Opening her eyes wider, she realized it was Bia and her gang.
"Ah!" she groaned as she felt someone's fingers on her head. Looking up, she saw the crazy bastard—Simon.
He had blond hair, green eyes, a sharp jawline, and thin pink lips. His features were delicate. Whenever he came to her school for events, girls would pretend to be Evelyn's friend just to get his attention. But to Evelyn, he was nothing but an annoying, ugly cousin.
Today, however, he wore a solemn expression instead of his usual psycho grin. He was focused on cleaning her wounds, like an angry father tending to his injured child.
She stared at him longer than usual, watching this unfamiliar side of him. She preferred his nosy, infuriating self over this silent version.
"I thought you wouldn't come for the graduation," she muttered, her voice soft, her heart breaking a little at this rare sight.
"You don't like me getting hurt, huh?" Evelyn teased lightly, hoping to provoke his usual behavior. Nothing.
"If you don't like me getting hurt, why won't you let me go to that rich college of yours?" she pressed, expecting no answer.
"No way. Too risky."
"But you'll protect me, right?"
"Shut up. You're just about to be seventeen—you're not going to college until eighteen."
"No!" she protested. Her face fell, and Simon's expression darkened. His brows knitted together as he stared at her, reading her thoughts.
"We'll talk about it when we get home. For now, let's get you home," he said, placing a large hand on her shoulder, making her meet his gaze.
"Eve, look—this will be the last time they bully you. Understand? Anyone who touches you will die."