It was right at the onset of winter, when my life changed in a way I could never have imagined.

  I stared out of the window, watching the first snow of the year fall down lethargically as the voice of our teacher droned on about some math formula I couldn't care less about.

  The size of our class always seemed to shrink with the coming winter and the first snowfall. We were just fourteen students today, a far cry from the usual twenty-something we were supposed to be. Most of them probably feigned some kind of illness to avoid having to go to school in this kind of weather.

  I envied them a bit for this. Driving a bike through the slurry of snow and mud was seriously no fun and lowkey dangerous on some occasions. Sadly, I was one of the few students that couldn't afford to take the bus. Mom worked her ass off already to just barely keep us afloat, no need to pressure her even more for something that wasn't absolutely necessary.

  Some also probably colluded with their friends to 'be sick' together, so that they could fight their silly snowball-wars that became a tradition here some years ago. With the first real snow of the year, they would go and meet with students from our neighboring school in some park a few blocks off and start a great snowball fight against them.

  I wanted none of that, many other students now thinking similarly. The fight last year escalated so badly that some students got injured after some lunatics started using the age-old tactic of putting stones into their snowballs. Pure stupidity in my opinion, but oh well. I wasn't there, so I couldn't care less about that. A lot of the participants got into serious trouble after that, ranging from house arrests to week-long suspensions and even a quick trip to the police station for the main offenders.

  That's why we were at least fourteen students here in class today, and not just a historic low of seven like last year.

  Not participating today was even more stupid, since we would be writing multiple tests next week. No way around it, missing crucial lessons like these on purpose was just braindead. Some of the students missing today could really use a couple lessons more.

  As my thoughts drifted further away from the boring math explanations of our monotone speaking teacher Mr. Wellington, the ringing of the school bell brought me back to the present. Lunchtime already, though I wasn't really feeling hungry right now.

  As the other students got up to make their way to the cafeteria, I remained seated. My next lesson would be here as well, and not going to the crowded cafeteria was the best way to avoid some of the students I wanted to avoid most.

  Unfortunately for me, some of my own classmates were on the very top of that list. Most of them were here today as well, choosing to opt out of the snowball-war this year.

  I have no idea what their problem with me is. Well, not entirely true, I can think of some reasons, but none of them could ever explain the pure amount of hatred they seem to have for me.

  Every school day is just pure misery for me, though I can feel myself caring less and less as time goes on. Either I'm starting to accept it or I'm just growing numb, it doesn't matter in the end. It's not like I can do anything about it.

  Me and my mother are in a very uncomfortable position right now. One of the main perpetrators and the person I hate the most is Blake Zinniar, self-proclaimed 'scion' of the Zinniar family. They aren't that powerful from an outside perspective, nowhere near any of the known major families and ancient clans, but they hold a considerable amount of power here in this shitty town.

  The crux of the issue is that Mom indirectly works for his father, Orion Zinniar. Blake knows that, which is why only a few people know about what I have to endure in school. If I tell anyone, like the teachers, principal, or whoever really, he will go complain to his daddy and make him fire Mom. I don't know how we would survive if that were to happen.

  While I trust Mom with everything I have, I don't think she has it in her to find a new job. After Father cheated on her and fled far away with his new love when he inevitably got caught, Mom was never the same again. She's still hurting even years later, the betrayal still fresh in her mind. I fear that getting fired now would break her for good.

  That's why I can't tell her either, her daughter getting seriously bullied would do the same. For her own sanity, she must not know of this. Mom is already doing so much for me, this is my burden to carry, not hers. For her, I will silently endure this. I have to. If I don't give them the satisfaction they seek, maybe they will stop someday.

  As nice as that thought sounds, I doubt that will ever be the case. Rather, I fear it may actually develop in the opposite direction instead. They have crossed far too many lines already. While they can't do anything to harm me physically in any clearly visible area out of fear of getting caught, there's not much stopping them from anything else.

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  Originally, it all started quite harmlessly. They started isolating me from my 'friends', spreading rumors about how my family is supposedly too poor to afford clean clothes, or how I secretly stole someone else's notebooks and various other random objects.

  Nobody wanted to be friends with the rumored poor thief who couldn't even buy her own lunch and spent her evenings begging on the streets. Completely ridiculous, but the other kids really bought into that.

  While these rumors died out sooner than later, the isolation stayed. With no more 'friends' of mine to check up on me in the way, they could start their plan to drive me into the ground.

  And that they did. My sport shoes went missing and my notebooks got ripped to shreds repeatedly. They stole my lunch money and poured water on me, on my clothes, or into my bag. They placed fake cheat-sheets under my desk before exams in the hope that a teacher would see them and fail me for cheating. Unfortunately, it worked, but only for the first time. After that, I knew what was coming and disarmed the traps accordingly, even when they got slightly more creative by choosing other locations for the cheat-sheets as well.

  It was also around that time that they first threatened me directly with firing my Mom. I already had suspicions of who was behind this, but they just confirmed it outright with that. I cried myself to sleep that night, the isolation and no way of escaping Blake and his friends from bullying me taking a huge toll on my mind.

  With passing time and no real retaliation from my side, they got bolder and more confident in what they did. The teachers were blind and so were the students, nobody could see the personal hell I suddenly found myself in. Or they just ignored it, afraid of being the next victim of Blake and his friends.

  My head got dunked into the toilet, I was forced to lick mysterious substances off the bathroom floor, I got locked outside, in the freezing cold, on top of the school roof for an entire lesson and they even cut some of my hair once. It's a wonder I didn't fall ill way more than I actually did from all of that.

  Then they started physically harming me as well. They waited for me outside of the school, brought me into hidden alleys, and started beating me up, while I laid on the ground silently crying, too afraid of what they would do if I screamed out or cried for help. Nobody could know of this, it would make everything so much worse.

  Just like this, time and time again, they would hurt me over and over, always careful to avoid any serious or visible damage. With time, their punches and kicks felt less and less painful, I no longer cried and just took it silently. They would stop sooner or later.

  And they did. Though I really wish they hadn't. What they did instead was so much worse. One faithful day, instead of stopping, they grew angrier and angrier with every kick to my stomach that I barely reacted to. I think he and his friends failed an important exam, which got Blake in trouble with his daddy. And I was their object of choice to let steam off on.

  Then it happened, one of his friends, a particularly nasty fellow called Eric Wither, didn't continue beating as usual, but instead delivered a full force kick straight to my face. I don't know why he did that, and I doubt I will ever find out. I was only certain that it was by no chance an accident, there was too much purpose behind that hit.

  The impact of the kick sent my head back, straight into the brick wall of the alley. For a moment, nobody moved. For my part, it wasn't out of choice, but because I immediately lost my consciousness upon contacting the wall.

  I think they realized their mistake as well, because they immediately took off, fleeing the scene. Of course not to call for medical help, that would be way to nice of them and also immediately expose the culprits behind it. No, they just left me lying there, blood streaming down the back of my head and pooling below.

  After I woke up, I remained laying there for a while, barely conscious, on the dirty floor inside of the hidden alley they always dragged me to. No words could express what I felt in that situation, only the unending stream of tears flowing down my cheeks bearing witness to the sheer violation of human dignity that was committed in this cursed alley. I will never forget them for what they did to me.

  Everything hurt, I couldn't even call for help. I was certain that this was my end, killed by three stupid kids that couldn't control their anger over a flunked quiz.

  Luckily, someone did find me a couple of hours later. One of the usual homeless guys passed by this area, saw me lying there and immediately contacted the authorities. Bless his heart, he probably saved my life. It's a shame I never got his name, but I was occupied with other stuff at that time. The giant wound on the back of my head being one of them and a medium concussion being the other.

  The police investigation returned nothing, though I wasn't sure if they really found nothing, or if this was just swept under the rug for one reason or another. I was never asked by the police for what happened or if I knew who did that. The official explanation for the public was an unmotivated attack by an unidentified group of street thugs

  After I returned to school from the hospital a good month later, they never brought me there to beat me ever again and the amount of petty bullying I received reduced as well. Good for them, because if they did, I don't know what I would have done otherwise. At that point, firing Mom would be the least of their worries.

  The bell rang again, stilling my churning thoughts and bringing me back to reality, signaling the end of the lunch break along the way as well.

  Next lesson would be with Ms. Edelwei?, our German teacher. She is a native German speaker who moved here some years ago. At least that way you know that her lessens are authentic. This time I would actually have to listen as well, her class is one of the few that have an exam coming up soon. Even if I was powerless in front of Blake and his little gang, the least I could do was keep up my grades.

  However, Unbeknownst to me and the rest of the class at this point in time, this lesson would be the most world-changing experience we ever got.

  Literally.