The air’s thick when he bursts through the door from work—body shaking, breath a frantic mess.

He collapses against the wall, fingers clawing at his sleeves, trying to hide skin he hates, scars he despises.

His chest tightens so hard it feels like it’s caving in—each breath a sharp stab, each inhale a fight he’s already losing.

His eyes are wide, terrified, swimming with panic that drags him under deeper with every second.

Words catch in his throat, choking on the weight of what he can’t say.

“I... I tried... I tried to stop her—”

“S-she kept... she kept touching me! I didn’t want—”

His voice cracks, the tremble raw and broken, a whisper drowning in the chaos inside.

His hands shake violently, and suddenly—he vomits, the sharp taste burning, bitter and cruel.

Someone rushes to his side, heart breaking at the sight—this boy she loves, unraveling into pieces no one should ever see.

He flinches at the touch, terrified of being held but desperate for it all at once.

“I hate... I hate my body...I hate her! Why... why me.." he gasps between ragged breaths, panic clawing at him like a living thing.

He curls into himself, trembling, the world spinning and crashing around him.