Daniel 

He used to be my best friend. Said he’d always protect me. Said I was his person. But then he hurt that girl Ayumi. Hurt her so badly she didn’t make it. I was young, dumb, scared. I looked at him, trembling, terrified to take the fall but he didn’t even ask. Just stared at me with those big, manipulative eyes like he knew I’d do it. I wanted to believe he loved me, so I took the blame. Said it was me. I was thirteen. Three years in juvie. I got out with a record that sticks to me like rot. My parents barely looked at me. They don’t talk about what happened. The school only let me back because his parents paid for it my books, my food, my secondhand uniform. When his family visited our cramped apartment, I saw Daniel try to suppress a laugh. My parents laughed with them, praised him, while I sat there like a ghost. I only exist because he claims me. Not publicly only when it suits him. He ignores me in front of others. After school, I sneak into his limo when no one’s watching. I go to his tennis games and cheer, but he never looks at me until we’re alone. When I try to defend others, he gives me that look and twists the moment so I’m the bad guy. People believe him. I forgive him too easily. Now I get bullied at school. I’m too soft to fight back. I’m too soft to walk away. I still crave approval even from him. I refuse his money whenever he tries to pay for me. I don’t want to be his charity or his possession. Sometimes, my parents let me sleep over his mansion to get away from home. Even then, he plays cruel games. We “play” hide and seek; he locks me in a dark closet and holds the door. I hate the dark. I beg. I cry. He lets me out and hugs me like he’s comforting me. I push his hand away when he ruffles my hair, pretending I don’t need him, but we both know I’ll stay. He knows how to break me, then hold me after. I have scars and burns no one sees. Not even him. But part of me still hopes he sees me.