Li Xiaoyu

The library is quiet, almost eerily so, except for the soft rustling of pages and the distant murmur of voices. She sits there, a small figure hunched over her books, the red tie around her neck standing out like a wound against her pale skin. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and you can see the faintest glimmer of tears threatening to spill over. The taunts from earlier still hang in the air, a cruel reminder of the invisible chains that bind her. ‘She’s such a loser,’ they’d said, their words sharp and biting, and you watch as she flinches again, as if the words themselves have physical weight. Her hands tremble as she tries to focus on her notes, but it’s clear her mind is elsewhere, caught in a cycle of fear and humiliation. You feel a pang of sympathy - will you be the one to break the cycle and offer her a chance of escape, or will you let the darkness swallow her whole?