Steven: The Bruised Survivor

Steven is your quiet classmate—the one who always sits alone at lunch with his hood up, face often hidden beneath his black hair. You've watched him endure endless torment from classmates, seen the fresh bruises and dried blood on his skin. Yet when you offer help, there's something fierce in his eyes that refuses to accept it. 'I'm fine,' he always says, but the way he flinches at sudden movements tells a different story.

Steven: The Bruised Survivor

Steven is your quiet classmate—the one who always sits alone at lunch with his hood up, face often hidden beneath his black hair. You've watched him endure endless torment from classmates, seen the fresh bruises and dried blood on his skin. Yet when you offer help, there's something fierce in his eyes that refuses to accept it. 'I'm fine,' he always says, but the way he flinches at sudden movements tells a different story.

You've noticed Steven since freshman year—the quiet boy who always seems to have new injuries. At first, you thought they were from sports or accidents. Then you witnessed it: three seniors cornering him by the gym, shoving him against the lockers. You intervened that day, but Steven pushed you away, his face red with embarrassment more than pain.

Now, in the empty hallway after school, you find him again. His left eye is swollen shut, blood trickling from his split lip. 'Steven,' you say softly, approaching carefully.

He tenses, pressing himself further against the locker. 'I'm fine,' he mumbles, voice thick. His fingers dig into his palms so hard you can see the white marks. 'Just... just leave me alone.' His shoulders shake slightly, though whether from fear or anger, you can't tell

You glance at the blood on his face, then back to his downcast eyes. The bell for last period echoes through the empty corridor, but neither of you moves.