Finally, after what felt like years of lectures and blank stares, I made it to lunch.
I bolted from my math class, half-jogging toward the cafeteria like my life depended on it. In some ways, it did.
Our school was wealthy — at least, on the outside. Clean floors. Flat screens in every classroom. But they only gave free lunches to the first 100 students.
"Just another way the world's out to get me," I muttered under my breath.
Survival of the fastest. Survival of the luckiest.
When I turned the corner into the cafeteria, I nearly laughed.
Only about forty people were in line.
"Finally... luck," I thought, lips twitching into the first real smile I'd felt all day.
I slid into place at the back of the line, my stomach growling loud enough for the guy in front of me to glance back.
Then—
"Hey… Adrian"
I froze.
That voice. Sweet, light, too familiar.
I turned.
Evelyn.
Standing behind me. Hair perfect as always, with that little curl behind her ear she always flicked when bored. She wore a denim jacket over her uniform like it meant something, like she was too cool to follow the rules. And that smile…
That smile was for me.
"H-hey," I stammered, eyes flicking away.
What the hell?
She'd spent the last four years laughing at me behind lockers. Standing in the background while Kendrick broke my ribs. Whispering jokes I wasn't supposed to hear. And now…
Now she was smiling?
"You always get in line this early?" she asked, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, like we were old friends catching up. "Smart. Bet you're one of the lucky ones who actually gets food."
I blinked.
"I—I guess," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
She laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
I tried not to stare. But it was hard. She was… beautiful. Way too beautiful to be talking to me.
And she was looking at me like I was someone.
"I actually wanted to ask you something," she said.
I swallowed.
"W-what is it?"
"Can you show me where the old storage closet is? The one near the gym?"
I blinked, confused.
"What for?"
She just smiled wider. There was something playful in her eyes.
"I have a surprise for you."
My brain short-circuited.
A surprise?
"I—I mean, haven't you been going here forever?" I asked nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. "You should know where it is…"
She leaned in.
Close.
Too close.
Her shoulder brushed mine — and then her chest pressed softly against my arm.
Every nerve in my body lit up like a circuit board catching fire.
"I do," she whispered. "But I'm a little bad with directions. Especially when I'm excited."
My throat tightened.
"I…"
"Hold my hand," she said, her voice still sweet.
I hesitated.
She reached for me again. "I said, hold my hand."
There was no teasing in her voice this time. Just soft insistence.
I swallowed hard — and reached out.
Our fingers touched. Then curled together.
Her skin was warm.
Why was this happening?
Why now?
I led her through the side hallway toward the gym wing, heart pounding so loud I thought she'd hear it.
She didn't let go.
Every step felt unreal. Like I was walking in someone else's shoes.
We reached the closet door.
It was already cracked open.
I stopped.
"Why's it open?" I asked, voice low.
Evelyn tilted her head like she hadn't noticed.
"Hm. Weird," she said lightly. "Let's go in."
"I—I don't know," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We're not supposed to be in here. It's off-limits."
The hallway was silent now. Empty.
Her fingers squeezed mine gently.
"Come on," she said.
With that I lead her into the darken room Evelyn hand gripped mine back and she followed behind me.
Once I walked in she quickly slammed the door my heart nearly jumped out from the slam.
Then the light flickered on and revealed nothing but buckets, mops, cleaning supplies, and brooms.
Then Evelyn stepped toward me.
Wrapping her arms around me.
She smelled of strawberry shortcake.
Is this happening? I thought to myself.
She leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
"Take off my shirt."
My body tingled from her warm breath.
My head was spinning.
"This must be a dream" I thought.
Then she sighed.
"Are you gonna take me shirt off or what?"
Then as if my hands had a mind of its own they moved.
"What am I doing" I thought.
But it was too late.
I lifted her her shirt revealing a pink bra.
She leaned in close.
So close I could feel them pressing against me.
"Touch them" she said with a hint of playfulness.
Even though internally I screamed no.
I still did it.
My hand fully enveloping them
"So soft" I said under my breath.
My hand gripped them tighter.
Then like a cry from banshee she screamed.
"STOP IT! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
I panicked and tried to back up but then I realized I was stuck.
Her hand was gripping my wrist tightly holding me against her bra
Then another scream "Someone help me."
I panicked.
Using all my strength I tried to pull away.
Her grip was strong.
But using both my arm and leg strength I managed to pull away.
Then with a hard thud I hit the ground. Tripping on a broom I only saw till now.
Finnaly, I was free from her grip.
In my hand I felt a sharp pain almost like a needle.
I looked down and there laid a pink bra.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
I looked up meeting her body.
I quickly covered my eyes.
she screamed. This time sounding real.
HELP ME!
Then, as if right on cue—
BAM!
The door slammed open with a thunderous crack.
"What the hell are you doing, punk?!" Jason's voice tore through the silence like a blade.
Kendrick was right behind him, face twisted in fury, eyes locked onto me like a predator spotting prey.
"Get your hands off her, freak!"
I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Evelyn stood to the side—silent, wide-eyed, not saying a word. Not denying anything.
Before I could speak—before I could explain—I felt Jason's fist crash into my cheekbone.
Crack.
My head snapped sideways, and I staggered into the shelf. Buckets and brooms clattered to the floor.
Then Kendrick's knee drove into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs.
I gasped, coughing hard. The room spun.
"Disgusting bastard!" Jason growled, grabbing me by the hoodie and throwing me back against the wall.
My shoulder hit a mop handle. Pain shot down my arm.
Voices.
Outside. People were gathering.
"What's going on?" "Did you hear that scream?" "Is someone fighting in the supply closet?"
Footsteps. Dozens.
The hallway was filling up.
Kendrick slammed me again.
"Say something, freak! You think you can just sneak off with her?"
I tried to speak. My mouth opened—blood dripping from my lip—but no sound came out.
"Answer me!"
Jason's punch came faster this time. Straight to the gut. Then another to the ribs.
The closet felt smaller with every second. The air thicker. The sound louder.
More voices.
More shadows in the doorway.
Phones came out.
Whispers turned to shouts.
"That's Kendrick!" "That's Jason too—what are they doing?" "Who's the other guy? Wait… is that Adrian?"
Someone yelled, "Hey! Stop! Someone get a teacher!"
But no one stepped in.
No one pulled them off.
They kept beating me calling me names but I could not hear anything.
All I could feel was pain.
"Hey what's going on on?" A teacher shouted
Then the hits stopped for a split second.
The teacher was trying to pull them off me.
But to no avail.
Then the attacks resumed.
The kicking and stomping.
"Stop recording" The teacher pleaded.
"Help me get them up."
Instantly multiple male students lifted then up from me.
"He needs a beaten" Kendrick shouted.
"You like touching women without consent?"
"You little perv." Jason shouted
Seeing the large group of men being hauled out from the closet the crowd made way.
-"OMG! did he try to really to get Evelyn." - "Wait she has no shirt on"
-"Where is her bra?"
-"Bro look its in that psychos hands."
-"He was really a perv"
-"I knew something was off about the guy just had no evidence."
-"Someone cover her up for Christ sake"
"No its all a lie let me explain" I whispered under my breath.
I looked up meeting their gazes.
I was met with disdain and hatred.
They would'nt listen even if I begged.
Unable to bear the humiliation, I lowered my head back down to the floor.
The floor was hard. Cold. Just like every other tile in this school. I could feel the grit against my cheek—bits of dust, dried mop water, old gum. But the pain in my ribs made it hard to care.
Blood trickled from my nose, slow and sticky, pooling against the tile. My lip was split. My left eye—swollen halfway shut. My whole body screamed, but I stayed still.
There was nowhere else to go.
Then—boots.
Heavy. Quick. Purposeful.
Then came the crackle.
KZZZT."All units, we have a confirmed location. East janitor's closet. Door already open."
Another voice followed fast:
"Clear the halls. I repeat—this is the police!"
Outside, I heard students scramble. Footsteps, gasps, backpacks slapping against walls. But they weren't running from the scene—they were gathering.
Phones were already out.
Then—
Steps.
Closer.
Three officers entered the open doorway.
Their expressions were stone. Their uniforms sharp. Their boots tracked in streaks of mud and dried salt from the parking lot.
One stepped forward, his hand already reaching down.
"Let me see your hands. Now."
I didn't resist. Couldn't. I was barely conscious.
"He's beat to hell," one muttered.
"Still a suspect," another replied flatly. "Get him up."
Two sets of arms lifted me roughly by the elbows. My feet scraped against the tile, struggling to find balance. My vision spun.
"You are under arrest."
"No," I whispered, blinking through the blur.
Cold steel clamped around my wrists.
"You have the right to remain silent," the lead officer recited as they pulled me out of the closet.
The light from the hallway stung my eyes.
"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—"
"No, no, no," I muttered under my breath, louder now, stumbling. "No, no, no, no, no—"
"Let me explain." I screamed. "Its not what it looks like!"
The crowd of students lined both sides of the hall. Phones were up. Faces blank. Eyes wide.
No one moved.
"Please…" I croaked, voice shaking. "Someone help…"
They dragged me forward. I twisted in their grip, weakly. My heart pounded. Every step felt like it stretched for miles.
"Why won't anyone listen…" I whispered, barely audible. "I'm the victim…"
"You have the right to an attorney—"
"Please," I begged again. "Somebody help me…"
But no one stepped forward. Not a teacher. Not a student. Just red lights from phone cameras. Some were even smiling. A few whispered. But no one spoke up.
"No, no, no, no, no, no—" I repeated like a prayer as they paraded me through the halls and out the front doors.
The cold hit me first.
Then the glare of sunlight. The flashing blue-and-red from the patrol cars. The sound of a radio squawking behind us.
"Car's ready," another officer called out.
They shoved the door open.
And I saw the back seat. Black leather. Plexiglass.
One officer glanced back at me, then said—
"Get him in."
And then they shoved me inside.
My head hit the edge of the frame. My knees collapsed onto the floorboard.
SLAM.
Door closed. Just like that.
I watched through the window as the officers turned back toward the school.
"We'll be back for statements. Don't leave the building," one called to the crowd.
The door swung shut behind them.
And I sat there.
Bleeding.
Breathing hard.
Alone.
Repeating, one last time—
"I'm the victim…"