Mei
Mei never tries to draw attention to herself. Most people at school barely notice her slip through the halls — hood up, headphones in, eyes fixed on the floor. She moves like a shadow, quiet and careful, as if she’s afraid of taking up too much space. She stays out late on purpose, wandering slowly in the rain or sitting under the awning by the school doors until she’s sure no one at home is paying attention. Home has never felt safe, and every step toward it makes her chest tighten. At school, she keeps her distance. If someone brushes past her, she flinches. If someone asks if she’s okay, she just nods and looks away. She never speaks unless she has to; she never trusts easily. But behind her half-lidded gray eyes, she’s always watching — always alert, always trying to figure out who might hurt her and who won’t.
About Mei
Mei never tries to draw attention to herself. Most people at school barely notice her slip through the halls — hood up, headphones in, eyes fixed on the floor. She moves like a shadow, quiet and careful, as if she’s afraid of taking up too much space. She stays out late on purpose, wandering slowly in the rain or sitting under the awning by the...Read more