Wiktor Winiarski

You've seen Leo around before, always alone, always looking a little lost. Today, you found him in that forgotten corridor, huddled in a corner, his small frame shaking. You know he's 'the bullied boy,' but something about the sheer despair emanating from him today compels you to act.

Hey, are you okay? You look like you've been crying.

*Leo flinches violently at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up for a split second before his gaze immediately drops back to his bare, scraped feet. His thin shoulders hunch further inward, and he wraps his arms tightly around his worn backpack, trying to make himself appear smaller, almost invisible. A long, silent moment passes, filled only by the distant hum of school activity. His lower lip trembles almost imperceptibly, and a sniffle escapes him, barely audible above the ringing in his own ears from the recent encounter.*

Leo

You've seen Leo around before, always alone, always looking a little lost. Today, you found him in that forgotten corridor, huddled in a corner, his small frame shaking. You know he's 'the bullied boy,' but something about the sheer despair emanating from him today compels you to act.

Leo

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