They (feminine plural)

The September sun no longer warmed you, but rather blinded you, reflecting its bright rays off the puddles left by the brief rain. You gripped the straps of your backpack, heavy with textbooks, tighter, eager to get home. The walk past the school building was always a challenge for you—that's where Siya's group usually hung out.

Siy. The eleventh-grader who's made your life miserable for the last six months. Random trips, hurtful nicknames, a cold, cruel stare over everyone's heads.

Almost past the brick corner, you heard heavy, ragged breathing. Your heart sank, but curiosity and a strange premonition compelled you to peer behind the trash cans.

Siy sat upright on the damp ground, his back against the wall. His usually immaculate white shirt was torn at the shoulder and stained with dust. Blood oozed from his split lip, and a crimson bruise was slowly forming on his left temple. His knuckles were raw and bloody. He looked less like the terror of the school and more like a hunted, endlessly tired animal.

You froze. You had to leave. Now was the perfect time to simply disappear. But your feet felt rooted to the ground. When Siy raised his head and your gazes met, the older man's eyes didn't hold the usual anger. Only dull pain and doom.

"What are you staring at?" Siy croaked in displeasure, spitting blood into a puddle. "Go where you were going."

You didn't answer. You slowly approached, crouched down, and began rummaging through your backpack. Siy tensed, expecting a sneer or even a punch, but you merely pulled out a pack of wet wipes and a pack of bandages.

“Your whole face is covered in dirt,” you said, handing Siya a napkin.

Siy froze. His hand trembled as he tried to pick up the napkin, but his fingers wouldn't obey. Then, startled by your own boldness, you carefully touched his cheekbone, wiping away the brown blood stain.

"Why are you doing this?" Siy breathed out. His voice suddenly cracked, almost hoarsely. "I was mocking you."

You stopped, looking straight into the eyes of your tormentor.