Richard woke slowly to the dim, gray light filtering through the cracked windowpane of his tiny, cold room. The chill in the air seeped through the thin blanket wrapped around his frail frame, sinking deep into his bones. Outside, the sky was heavy with thick clouds, promising rain. The silence of the house pressed down on him, louder than any noise—an oppressive reminder of how alone he truly was.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the peeling wallpaper, his thoughts heavy. *Maybe today will be different,* he wished, but the tiny, bitter voice inside whispered back, *It never is.*
With a slow, tired sigh, Richard swung his legs over the edge of the bed and carefully stood, trying not to disturb Elisa, his scruffy dog, who stirred softly but didn't move. Her warm body was curled in a ball near the doorway, her presence a fragile island of comfort in his bleak world.
Richard's fingers grazed her soft fur. *Thank you, Elisa,* he thought silently. *At least you're here.*
In the kitchen, the harsh chemical smell of rubber gloves hit him as his mother moved silently. She wore the thick gloves she always did—her way of shielding herself from the "contamination" she believed he was. Her cold eyes didn't meet his; instead, they flicked over him with nothing but disdain.
"Hurry up," she said sharply, her voice clipped like ice shards.
Richard swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to eat the cold, tasteless food she pushed toward him as if it were a punishment. The sound of his father's heavy footsteps echoed from the next room. His voice followed like a shadow, dark and threatening.
"You'll never amount to anything," his father growled, barely looking at him.
Richard clenched his fists under the table, fighting back the sting of tears. *I have to get through this day,* he repeated silently. *I have to.*
When he stepped outside, the cold wind hit him like a wave. Gray clouds hung low, the first drops of rain threatening. He pulled his threadbare jacket tighter, head bowed, trying to disappear into the world around him.
School was no sanctuary. The hallways buzzed with life — laughter, chatter, the shuffle of feet — but Richard felt like a ghost drifting unnoticed. He avoided eye contact, hoping to be invisible.
But he never was.
Scarlet — the queen bee — was always watching.
She was beautiful, untouchable, surrounded by her loyal circle. Every student knew her power. But Richard had long been her favorite target, the easy prey she enjoyed tormenting. Her sharp eyes pierced him with cruel delight, her smirk full of menace.
That day was no different.
As Richard moved toward his locker, hoping for a moment's peace, Scarlet appeared. Like a storm breaking over calm waters, she grabbed his arm with bruising force and pulled him into the nearest empty locker room.
The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the distant noise of school life.
Scarlet's eyes sparkled with cruelty as she shoved Richard against the cold metal lockers.
"Look at you, trying to act like you belong here," she sneered. "You're pathetic."
Richard said nothing, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He wanted to disappear, but he was trapped.
Without warning, Scarlet's hands lashed out — slaps and punches rained down on his face and arms. The sting of each blow mixed with the dull ache that had settled in his bones long ago.
He flinched but didn't fight back. Each strike was a reminder of all the times he'd been broken, all the times he'd been invisible.
Scarlet's breath was sharp and ragged, her eyes cold with fury.
Then, as she raised her hand to strike again, her gaze dropped to his forearm — the pale, jagged scars running beneath his sleeve.
Her hand froze mid-air. Her mocking smile vanished, replaced by wide, terrified eyes.
Richard's arm shook as she slowly pushed the sleeve up further, revealing the raw, white marks of countless silent battles.
A strangled, terrified scream burst from her lips.
"I... I didn't know..." she whispered, stepping back as if the scars burned her eyes.
Richard quickly pulled his sleeve down, hiding the scars as best as he could. He didn't say a word.
Scarlet's legs trembled. Her proud, untouchable facade cracked, replaced by a storm of emotions she hadn't expected — shock, guilt, helplessness.
Without another word, she turned and fled, leaving Richard alone in the silent locker room, aching and shattered.
*No one truly sees me,* he thought, eyes burning.