My name is Nick. I’m a handsome 16-year-old high school student with a pretty normal life. My best friends are Sam and Eric, and everything was fine until I started 11th grade. At the beginning of the year, three new students joined our class: Jack, Maurice, and Roger. They quickly became the most feared people in school. Jack was the leader. He could make friends with almost anyone, but he only did it to use people. He bullied everyone, even seniors, and somehow always got away with it. Maurice was his laughing clown. He laughed at everything, mocked everyone, and loved recording people while they were being humiliated. If someone tripped, cried, got embarrassed, or got bullied, Maurice would be there laughing and filming it. Roger was the worst of them all. Roger wasn’t just a bully. He was a psychopath. Violence was his answer to everything. If someone annoyed him, he would hurt them. If someone bothered Jack or Maurice, he would hurt them. Sometimes he didn’t even need a reason. If Jack casually told him, “Go beat that guy up,” Roger would do it without hesitation. The look in his eyes was enough to make people nervous. One day I watched them corner a famous student athlete from the school. Jack kept insulting him and tearing apart his reputation while Maurice laughed so hard he could barely breathe, recording everything on his phone. Roger just stood there staring at the guy with a cold smile until the athlete finally snapped back. The second he did, Roger shoved him into a locker so hard the hallway went silent. But what scared me most wasn’t what Roger did to other people. It was what he did to me. Ever since the first day of school, Roger acted strangely around me. It felt like he was always watching. In the locker room during gym class. Walking home. Hanging out outside. Even when I was alone in my room at night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was keeping track of me. Every morning I received texts from an unknown number. “That outfit looks great on you.” “You look really cute today.” “Have fun after school.” The messages always knew things nobody should know. Things that happened only a few minutes earlier. I had no idea who was sending them, but deep down, I had a terrible feeling that Roger knew far more about me than he should