In the school bathroom, a stout young man was kneeling on the floor in front of a group of girls.
They had pretty faces, bright nails, and makeup too heavy for their age.
They stared at him like he was something that had crawled out of the drain.
The girl standing in the center was Bree Hoffman.
She was tall and slender, with a curvy body that made her popular among the boys at school—even the seniors.
"Is this really all you've got?"
She said disappointedly as she waved a thick wad of cash like it was worthless. The money wasn't even hers—it belonged to the chubby, sweaty young man kneeling in front of Bree and her friends.
His name was Nick Aarden.
An overweight second-year student and pretty much everyone's favorite punching bag. Not because he'd done anything wrong, but because he was the fattest and, to most people, the ugliest guy in school.
In short, he was the perfect example of a loser.
"I… I…"
Nick didn't have any more money to give them, but he also didn't know what to say.
Sweat poured down his face, and his breathing grew so loud that it drowned out everything else.
The girls looked at him with disgust.
Their faces scrunched up like they wanted to barf.
Bree narrowed her eyes at him, then let out a chuckle that sounded soft, but mocking.
"Mmm~ my stupid little pig… is that really all you have to give me? Aww…"
She faked a pout and rested her cheek on her palm.
Then, her face suddenly switched expressions.
She smiled deviously as she bit the tip of her finger.
"Hmm… I think you know what to do, fufu~"
The moment Nick saw that, he quickly straightened up on the bathroom floor like an obedient dog.
"Woof! Woof!"
He panicked so much he didn't even realize when he started barking
But Bree only stared at him with a bored look.
Desperate, he barked louder as his sweat dripped.
The other girls burst into giggles as they watched him.
"PFFFT—! If I was that fat I'd kill myself."
"Right? He's such a loser."
"Unattractive too… don't forget that. He smells like he eats burgers and fries all day."
"I heard he's a little dick virgin too!"
"BLEGH! I saw the picture, don't remind me."
He looked so pathetic, but Nick kept barking.
Louder and louder, until…
"WOOF! WOO—!"
Before he could let out another bark, Bree's foot slammed brutally into his face.
The impact fractured his nose so bad it bent sideways.
DUUUUM!!
He crashed onto the floor.
Warm blood began to drip from his nostrils.
"Ahhh—!"
He wanted to scream, but no sound came out—just a choked whimper as tears streamed down his cheeks.
His body trembled in silence.
That only seemed to make Bree angrier.
"You filthy pig!"
She snapped and stomped down on his face. Her heel dug into his cheek, pressing his head against one of the bathroom stall doors with a dull thud. She ground her foot against his skin as it smeared his sweat and blood.
"Who said you could bark, huh? You're not a dog, you disgusting little shit!"
Bree hissed as she glared down at him.
"I have a pet poodle, and she's a thousand times better than a fat, sweaty loser like you!"
There was so much contempt in her voice.
She raised her foot again.
"Next time you want to please me, you'll shit yourself and oink like the shameless little pig you are!"
She stomped on his face again.
Nick coughed from the hit and through the pain he forced out a strained, broken sound.
"O… oink…"
Tears were already rolling down his puffy cheeks.
This only made Bree even more frustrated.
"LOUDER, YOU LITTLE—!"
She shouted, but suddenly froze when she glanced down at her short skirt and realized he'd been looking up at her panties the whole time she'd been stomping on his face.
Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and the girls behind her started giggling.
"She really let that fatso see her underwear…"
"Euuughhh! So gross!"
"Might as well let him suck on it, Bree! Ahaha!"
Bree's face twisted in anger as she glared at Nick.
"You filthy pervert! How dare you look up my skirt!?"
She stomped on his face again and again, harder each time, until blood splattered across the dirty tiled floor and even stained her shoe.
Minutes later, Nick just lay lifelessly on the floor.
He was barely breathing.
If anyone saw him, they'd think he was dead.
"Good… stay quiet…"
Bree spat a thick wad of saliva onto his bloodied face like he was nothing but garbage.
The girls left him there, laughing as they walked out.
For nearly half an hour, Nick didn't move.
He just lay there in silence, looking like a corpse.
Then, all of a sudden, he coughed weakly.
"I hate myself…"
That was the only thought left in his mind.
–
–
–
Nick lay there on the cold bathroom floor for what felt like forever. The tiles were sticky with dried water and the faint smell of bleach and sweat clung to the air.
His cheek pressed flat against the ground.
The school bell rang somewhere.
Students came and went.
Some slowed down when they saw him there with blood on his face as bruises puffed under his eyes.
But no one stopped. No one cared.
A few even hissed at him as they passed.
"Uhhh… time to go…"
Nick groaned weakly.
He pushed himself up from the floor.
Every movement scraped pain through his skull.
His whole body felt heavy, sore, like it had been filled with wet sand.
He stumbled out of the bathroom with hazy vision.
The hallway felt like a blur.
Every time he bumped into someone, they either shoved him back or hurled a curse his way.
"Watch where you're going, fatass!"
"God, what a freak."
"Eww, you reek!"
Nick just muttered quietly—
"Thank you…"
It wasn't sarcasm—just habit.
He'd long gotten used to it.
The ridicule, the disgust, the stares.
His reflection in the nearby glass window showed exactly what everyone else saw — a swollen face full of acne and freckles, oily hair sticking to his forehead, a pig-like nose with small nostrils, thick lips, and crooked teeth that just wouldn't stay hidden.
He looked like someone life had already given up on.
That was how ugly he was.
And no one wanted to be around that.
It was social suicide.
By the time he dragged himself back to his classroom, it was nearly empty.
Just one person stood between him and freedom—
Susan Fox.
She was standing near his desk, her arms folded, tapping one foot impatiently. With her glossy black hair tied neatly behind her, a crisp uniform hugging her slim frame, and that serious look on her face.
The kind of girl every guy in school wanted.
She was one of the top students in the academy and also worked as a clerk for the Student Council. That, along with her good looks, made her really popular at school and a girl that most guys wanted.
On top of that, she was the daughter of one of the richest families in the tri-state area, which only gave people more reason to want to be close to her.
"Where have you been…?"
She sounded more scolding than concerned.
But her little pout softened the edge.
It was meant to be angry, yet somehow… adorable.
Nick didn't respond.
He just walked past her silently, heading for his desk.
His backpack was lying there, covered in scribbles and hateful doodles—
Loser… Fat Pig… Lard Butt… Double Wide…
He quietly brushed them off, zipped it shut and slung it over his shoulder.
Susan's frown deepened.
"Hmph."
She crossed her arms tighter.
"Are you really going to ignore me again?"
Nick didn't stop.
Her eyes flickered as frustration bubbled up.
"I told you before, Nick… if you're having any problems, just tell me! I'll talk to my dad—he can get the Director involved! Those jerks won't lay a hand on you again!"
Nick paused just by the door.
His shoulders drooped slightly.
"How about you just let me be."
He muttered without looking back, and walked out.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Susan puffed out her cheeks in frustration as she stamped her foot lightly.
"You big dummy…"
Her bottom lip jutted out.
"Why do you always act like that…"
She didn't understand.
Nick hated that kind of pity.
Every time Susan tried to help, it only made things worse.
Her popularity was a curse to him.
Being seen with her was like painting a target on his back.
He'd be beaten up by jealous guys, sneered at by girls who liked her, and gossiped about by everyone else.
It was exhausting.
For as long as he could remember, this was how his life had been.
Since childhood, people mocked him for being fat, for being ugly, for just existing the wrong way.
His dad was the only one who ever cared.
The only one who ever saw something in him that wasn't pathetic.
But he'd been dead for years now.
His mom remarried not long after, and though his stepdad wasn't a bad man, Nick couldn't bring himself to like him. His mother had moved on too easily… and maybe that's what he couldn't forgive.
Still, he sometimes wondered if his dad had ever made her feel lonely too.
"I wish I could join you, Dad…"
Nick muttered as he pushed open the front door and stepped inside his house.
His stepfather sat on the couch, eyes on his phone.
Neither of them said a word.
Nick trudged past and entered his room.
It was messy.
He dropped his backpack, kicked off his shoes, and fell face-first onto his bed.
"I'm… tired…"
His eyelids drooped. Sleep was seconds away.
But then—
Clang.
Something metallic caught his attention.
His eyes flicked open.
In the far corner of the room—where there should've been nothing—stood a massive metal crate.
"Huh…?"
Nick blinked.
"What's that…?"
He sat up slowly.
It definitely hadn't been there before.