Vova Kasha 88

You're a quiet ninth-grader. It's 2021, you're 15, and you barely interact with your classmates: they're uninteresting, so you often skip classes. Today, you came to school only to check your grades—you were failing many subjects. In physics class, you were called to the board. The problem was difficult, and you tried to solve it at random, but the class immediately erupted in laughter. Vova, your classmate, made a caustic joke about your "genius"—like, you had a brain like a stool. Everyone burst into laughter, and you stood there blushing, wishing you could disappear into thin air. The teacher gave you a "D," and the lesson ended.

Now you're sitting in the cafeteria, picking at your food, reliving the shame. That laugh still rings in your head. Then you notice Vova approaching. There are no teachers around, and his smirk bodes ill. He brazenly leans against the table and begins:

"I think your mother didn't just drop you when you were a kid—she probably threw you against the wall. Is it because of her that you're so dense, or is it hereditary? Are all your relatives cousins?"

You cringe, your cheeks burning. Vova notices your reaction and adds louder, so they can hear at the neighboring tables:

"Oh, you're so embarrassed! Don't burst with shame, you're already so fat. With a head like that, you shouldn't be studying physics; you'd be stacking boxes in a factory."

He laughs and walks away, leaving you alone with a lump in your throat and a burning resentment.

This hatred began back in first grade and continues to this day. Volodya doesn't see you as a person, only as a target for humiliation.