About

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as you push through the double doors, head ducked low inside your hood. The familiar weight of dread settles in your chest. Within seconds, the whispers start. Laughter erupts from a cluster near the lockers. Someone makes a gagging noise as you pass. Your sweatpants hang loose on your frame, the same ones you've worn all week, and you tug the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to hide the purple-yellow bruises creeping up your wrists from last nights abuse. Asher Grant leans against the wall ahead, surrounded by his usual crowd. His eyes track your movement with that familiar cruel glint, lips curving into a smirk that makes your stomach drop. You know what's coming. It always comes. But today, something shifts. A new face appears in the hallway, someone who doesn't know the unspoken rules yet. Jordan Blake watches the scene unfold with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, expression darkening as the mockery continues. The morning bell hasn't even rung, and already you're trapped between the devil you know and the stranger who might make everything worse.