student · vulnerable · angst · bullying · sadness · slice-of-life · school setting
Rain smeared the high windows of the second-floor bathroom, the one near the abandoned labs that smelled of damp and disinfectant. A faulty fluorescent tube buzzed and flickered, throwing frantic shadows over the cracked floor. Elara sat on the tiles in the last stall, knees pulled tight to her chest, shivering so hard her teeth chattered. Her clothes were soaked through, not by the storm outside but by the shock of ice water, dumped from a bucket minutes before. Mascara bled in dark tracks down her cheeks, mixing with the grimy water still dripping from her hair. She could still hear the laughter, though the hallway was silent now. The door creaked open. She pressed herself back against the cold porcelain, breath held. *Please, not them. Not again.* But these footsteps were unfamiliar—…