Seraphine stood by her desk, clutching her tattered English notebook as her tormentors circled her like wolves. The classroom felt stifling, the walls seeming to close in as Jenna, Nathan, and Jasper unleashed their wrath. The reason? Their collective failure in the recent mathematics homework.

“You better fix this, Seraphine,” Jenna sneered, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the notebook hardcover. Her voice was laced with malice, her lips curling into a smirk. “Or else.”

Nathan, the tallest of the trio, stepped forward and yanked Seraphine’s school bag from her trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate, tearing the notebook apart page by page, letting the fragments flutter to the floor like confetti at a cruel parade.

“This,” Nathan growled, his dark eyes narrowing, “is a lesson. Think twice before you even dream about failing us again.”

“Please,” Seraphine whispered, her voice breaking as she reached for the remains of her notes. “I just came to study. I didn’t do anything to you. Just leave me alone.”

Jasper laughed, a sound so cold it sent shivers down her spine. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his icy glare. “Leave you alone?” he mocked. “You’ve been enduring this since seventh grade, haven’t you? Did you really think it would stop? Trust me, Seraphine, this doesn’t end with graduation. We’ll haunt you for the rest of your pathetic life.”

The words cut deeper than any wound, and Seraphine struggled to hold back tears. Her knees buckled, but she forced herself to stand tall, even as humiliation burned her cheeks.

“And let’s not forget,” Jasper added with a sneer, “this idiot lied about being my girlfriend’s sister. Imagine the audacity! She’s just a maid—some charity case lucky enough to be enrolled here.”

He shoved her aside, sending her stumbling toward the edge of the desk. The other students watched in silence, their gazes filled with pity, fear, or indifference.

From the doorway, Daniel stood frozen, his heart sinking as he witnessed the scene. He wanted to step in, to say something, but the weight of their cruelty rendered him immobile.

“What are you staring at, dummy?” Regina snapped, breaking his trance. Her sharp voice startled him, and he shook his head, muttering an apology before slipping into the classroom.

He settled into his seat, watching as the bullies cornered Seraphine yet again. His hands clenched into fists under the desk, his nails digging into his palms. Why won’t she fight back? he wondered. Why does she let them treat her like this?

Jenna pulled out a thick book, slamming it onto Seraphine’s desk. “Here’s your next assignment,” she announced with a smirk. “Write the essay and print three copies. One for each of us, with our names on it. If we fail this project, you’ll regret it.”

“And trust me,” Jasper added, leaning in close, “there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The school bell rang, breaking the tension. The trio exchanged smug glances before strolling out of the classroom, leaving Seraphine to pick up the torn pages scattered across the floor. Her hands trembled as she gathered the pieces, each one a painful reminder of her helplessness.

Daniel, one of the quieter students, approached hesitantly. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Seraphine nodded, though the tears in her eyes betrayed her. She mumbled a quiet thank you before brushing past her to the trash bin.

Nathan, lingering by the door, threw one last glance over his shoulder. “Better wipe those tears before the teacher sees,” he sneered before disappearing into the hallway.

The English teacher, Mr. Thomas, entered the classroom moments later, his presence commanding attention. “Good morning, class,” he greeted warmly.

“Good morning, sir,” the students replied in unison, settling into their seats.

The lesson began with figures of speech, focusing on oxymorons and chiasmus. When Mr. Thomas asked for a definition, only two hands shot up: Daniel’s and Seraphine’s.

“Yes, Daniel,” Mr. Thomas said, gesturing toward him.

“An oxymoron is the combination of contradictory words,” Daniel answered confidently.

“Excellent!” Mr. Thomas exclaimed. “Now, can you give us some examples?”

Daniel hesitated, glancing around the room. His gaze landed on Jenna, and a small smile played on his lips. “The silence is deafening,” he began. “Jenna tells a truthful lie. Seraphine is a living dead. And school bullying is old news.”

The classroom erupted in murmurs, with some students stifling laughs. Jenna shot to her feet, her face red with anger. “What did you just say?” she snapped.

“Sit down, Jenna,” Mr. Thomas said firmly. “Everything Daniel said was correct. If you have a problem with it, perhaps you should study harder.”

Jenna glared at him, slamming her book shut. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered before storming out of the classroom. Nathan and Jasper followed, their expressions dark with fury.

Seraphine stared at Daniel, her eyes wide with disbelief. She couldn’t understand why he would speak up like that, knowing it would only make things worse for her.

After class, Daniel approached her as she packed her bag. “You need to stand up for yourself, Seraphine,” he said quietly.

She didn’t look at him, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. “You don’t understand,” she replied. “This isn’t your fight.”

“But it could be,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

She finally met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. “Just stay out of it, Daniel,” she said firmly. “It’s none of your business.”

As she walked away, Daniel watched her go, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He knew she was right—it wasn’t his fight. But something deep inside told him he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Later that evening, as Seraphine walked home, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following her. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sound the faint crunch of gravel under her shoes. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart pounding.

There was no one there.

Shaking her head, she quickened her pace, telling herself she was imagining things. But the feeling persisted, growing stronger with each step.

When she finally reached her house, she fumbled with the key, her hands trembling. As the door creaked open, a shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Seraphine,” a voice whispered from the darkness.

She turned slowly, her heart racing as she faced the shadowy figure standing at the edge of the porch.

It was Jasper.

“Miss me already?” he sneered, stepping into the light. “I told you, Seraphine. This is far from over.”