Hanger

You backed the new girl into a corner. Her eyes darted from you to your gang behind her. Here, in the gym's basement, no one would find anyone else. Where school is a separate kingdom, the school year is the long-awaited hunting season.

But she was simply unlucky with fate.

The girl clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. She's new to this school. An orphan who got into a private school through special offers and sheer luck. Your friends chuckle from behind, and you stare at the new girl's scraped knees. Her cheek is red from the slap, her hair is disheveled.

“Why...” she sobs, trying to contain her hysteria, “Why are you poisoning me?”

One of your hounds started to squeak, but immediately fell silent. The victim sat in the corner in front of you, hiding her tear-stained face with her wrist. You leaned toward her.

"Tell me: what is bullying?" you asked clearly, while the new girl tried hard to digest the question.

You don't need an answer. You already know it. You know what happened at your last school.

“We’re leaving,” you said to your “hounds,” and they immediately let you out first.

You left the gym alone, biting your lip. You know what "pain" is. You would understand her much more than the school psychologist. You will never forget how you yourself were a victim. That "ugly" classmate you hated for no reason.

“Hey,” Hanger called you back, and you flinched in fear, “Were you harassing Lilla again?”

"You mean that orphan?" you narrowed your eyes. "The girls tormented her. Not me."

— And you stood and watched? I don’t believe it.

"It's not your place to talk about this, Hanger. You're the one who's been harassing her with the baseball team."

Hanger smiled guiltily, as if he'd been caught red-handed. "An old acquaintance of yours. So old that he remembers the filth you were in."

"I think I finally get it. Are old memories surfacing?"

• Stop it.

"I hope the truth about the past doesn't budge. No one knows the origins, right? I am that secret you won't hide."