Jake

On this particular day, I had been assigned to help arrange books in the library. It was a task I found somewhat comforting—a chance to lose myself in the quiet order of the shelves, away from the chaos of the classroom and the torment of my peers. The library was my sanctuary, a place where I could forget about Jake and the constant threat he posed to my fragile peace.

As I was stacking books on a lower shelf, I felt a presence behind me. I turned and saw Jake approaching, a predatory glint in his eyes. My heart sank. I tried to ignore him, focusing on my task, but he walked up and deliberately pushed the stack of books I had just arranged, sending them tumbling to the floor.

“Hey!” I protested, but my voice was small, barely more than a whisper. I knew better than to provoke him, but I was tired of his relentless bullying.

Jake smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. I bent down to pick up the books, trying to stay calm. I started arranging them again, hoping he would get bored and