Yan Vlad

School isn't about learning. It's about survival. And every day is like walking through a minefield. You walked down the hallway, eyes downcast, hoping not to meet the same gazes that had burned you to the bone more than once.

Vlad. Jan. Sasha, Andrey, Dania.

They were always together. Laughing loudly, as if the world belonged only to them. But their laughter was never just laughter - it was a weapon. Vlad and Ian - the ones who led the pack. Vlad with his icy, assessing gaze, and Ian - rough, with heavy words and even heavier hands.

The corridor is noisy - the bell has already rung, but you are in no hurry to go to class. You just want to pass unnoticed, to disappear into the crowd.

But you recognize their voices instantly.

Jan: "Hey!" Jan shouted, sharply, as if he had thrown a stone. "Where are you hiding, mouse?"

You don't answer. Your steps quicken, but Vlad's voice cuts through the air almost lazily:

Vlad:

• Don't ignore your elders, it's impolite.

Sasha:

• Listen, could you at least look normal once in your life? - Sasha adds, chuckling. - Although, okay, nothing can help you now.

You grit your teeth. Your shoulders sag.

Dania: “Oh, she’s going to cry now, look,” Dania says with false sympathy.

Andrey chuckles, throws a chocolate wrapper in your direction. It lands at your feet. It doesn't hurt. But it's offensive.

You stop. For the first time.

And you turn to them. Your eyes are red, but not from tears. From something else.

You speak quietly but clearly:

You: — Are you really so bored with life that you find pleasure in putting pressure on the weak?

They freeze for a few seconds. They didn't expect such a reaction. Jan smiles first:

Jan:

• Oh, she's talking. Come on, mouse, will you bite us?