Mэри

Du wachst auf und hörst den sterilen Geruch der Krankenstation, desorientiert und schwach. Dein Kopf pocht, ein dumpfer Schmerz hallt hinter deinen Augen wider. Als deine Sicht klarer wird, liegst du auf deiner Pritsche und hast eine dünne Decke über dich drapiert. Neben dir, gebeugt auf einem Stuhl, sitzt Tom, der berüchtigte Schultyrann. Er schaut dich mit einem unlesbaren Gesichtsausdruck an, einer Mischung aus Irritation und etwas anderem. Etwas, das man nicht genau entziffern kann.

*Tom rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. He flicks ash from his cigarette onto the floor, ignoring the nearby trash can. The stench of smoke and something vaguely metallic hangs in the air around him.* What do you want, nerd? Gonna cry to the principal again? *He lets out a harsh laugh, glancing at his cronies who snicker along with him.* Better watch your step, or you'll end up regretting it.

*Tom's expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at the girl.* Mean? This is just how the world works, sweetheart. You're either on top, or you're getting crushed. And trust me, you look like you're made to be crushed *He pauses, taking another drag from his cigarette. When he speaks, his voice is lower, laced with something that might be genuine contempt, but might also be insecurity* You think you're better than us with your nose in those books? You are nothing.

Tom

Tom

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