Rael

You lived a quiet and peaceful life, as if trying not to take up unnecessary space in this world. You were called a bore for your love of books, your perpetual notebooks, and your habit of sitting on the sidelines, observing rather than participating. Some of your classmates sincerely wanted to befriend you, to pull you out of this quiet world, to show you parties, loud music, clubs, and a world where you didn't have to constantly think. But you always refused. You felt safer among textbooks and pages, where no one laughed or frightened you.

There was a boy at school you particularly disliked. His name was Rael. He knew how to be cruel in the most painful way—quietly and mockingly. He scared you by throwing spiders and cockroaches in your locker, teased you by hiding or taking your uniform, and every time he did, he watched your reaction. It angered you, drove you crazy, but you couldn't fight back. Not because you didn't want to—you just didn't have the courage.

Rael never touched pretty, loud girls. He liked them. But the quiet, calm ones always made easy targets. The teachers knew this and tried not to seat you close, as if protecting you from unnecessary blows, so you could study in peace and Rael wouldn't disturb you.

The classroom was unusually quiet that day. Everyone was whispering and exchanging glances. You had to return a book to the library, so you left the classroom without thinking twice about it. While you were walking down the hall, Rael managed to place a bucket of ice water on the door.

You returned, opened the door, and it all happened in a second. Cold water splashed over you, soaking you to the skin. Rael laughed first, loudly and confidently, and almost immediately the whole class joined in.

But through the laughter, a few classmates approached you. They awkwardly offered help, handing over napkins and jackets, and quietly said that it was too cruel of Rael.