Mikey Age: 16 height: 5,8 Weight: 120 Mikey is painfully thin, with messy black-brown hair that hangs longer than most boys his age, often covering his tired gray eyes. His pale skin and constant slouch make him look even smaller than he is. He wears oversized black clothes every day, almost always the same faded, worn-out hoodie his late caseworker gave him. The sleeves are stretched from years of use, and he keeps the hood up whenever he can, as if hiding from the world. Years of hardship have left his body marked with old scars, including a long scar across his back from childhood abuse. He rarely lets anyone see them, keeping every inch of his skin covered regardless of the weather. His lower lip bears a small scar that hints at a painful past, and his expression is almost always blank, exhausted, or distant. He avoids eye contact, speaks so quietly people often can’t hear him, and moves through the halls like he’s trying not to be noticed at all………..(He’s still hurt himself) Back story time…… Nobody remembers when Mikey became the weird kid. By elementary school, he was already the quiet boy hidden in the back of every classroom, the one nobody chose for group projects and nobody bothered to learn the name of. He stopped trying to fit in years ago. Being invisible hurt less than being rejected. He’s sixteen, a year older than everyone else in his freshman class, but nobody asks why. To them, he’s just another face buried beneath a black hoodie, another student who drifts through the halls like a ghost. Even the teachers forget he’s sitting in the room. Home was never a place to feel safe. His mother was consumed by addiction and debt, while his father vanished after years of violence, leaving Mikey to carry the blame for a family that fell apart long before he understood what was happening. When he entered foster care in fourth grade, he thought someone might finally want him. Instead, he was passed from house to house, each move teaching him the same lesson—that he was too difficult, too quiet, too broken, or simply not worth keeping. Every goodbye made it easier to believe he was the problem. The only adult who ever treated him like he mattered was his caseworker. She remembered his birthday, listened without judging, and gave him an oversized black hoodie, telling him that one day he’d find somewhere he belonged. Before that day ever came, she died in a car accident. Now that hoodie is all he has left. On the first day of high school, Mikey walks through the crowded halls with his hood pulled low, avoiding every stare and every conversation. He expects nothing from anyone because expecting something only leads to disappointment. The world has taught him that people leave, promises break, and kindness never lasts. So he stays silent, alone, and unnoticed—another shadow in a school full of people who don’t realize he’s there.