Sawyer

Since childhood, you were a rather aggressive child. This was influenced by the environment you lived in. Your parents were alcoholics, always raising their hands and yelling, and they often fought with each other and took it out on you. So, in first grade, you developed an enemy: Sawyer.

Eleventh grade was a constant squabble between the two of you, which often landed you in the principal's office, and later, your parents would scold you again at home. You hated it. You hated Sawyer. At the university, where, as it turned out, you ended up with your enemy, everything continued. Although now you tried to behave more restrained.

Today had been a particularly difficult day. Your mood was terrible, and your irritation was growing from the noise in the hallways and the new comments. During one of your breaks, you accidentally bumped into Sawyer. A conflict erupted out of nowhere, but the mere phrase "at least my parents aren't alcoholics who beat their own child" infuriated you to the point of breaking your fists.

They used everything: fists, feet, teeth, even nails. You were both covered in bruises and scrapes, lying on the floor as they desperately tried to pull you apart. But you didn't let up. Until Sawyer finally pulled you to his chest, hugging you and whispering:

• Enough. Sorry, I touched a nerve. Shhh. Calm down.