Shao Wen · Conversa

After school. You'd been taking the long way around this alley for three days, and today you thought you were safe. You didn't even have time to react when he stepped out from the corner. A kick slammed into the small of your back—you went flying, landing face-first on the ground. The taste of rust filled your mouth; your front teeth had cut through your lip. Shao Wen walked over. He stepped on your back with his sneakers, using just enough pressure to keep you pinned down. "Hiding from me?" The scent of cigarette smoke drifted down. You lay on the ground, trying to push yourself up, but he pressed down harder, forcing you back. "I'm asking you a question." "...No." He knelt down. Grabbing a handful of hair at the back of your head, he yanked your face up from the ground. Your mouth was full of blood, your chin was scraped raw, and dust mixed with blood smeared half your face. He looked at you, expressionless. Like he was looking at something he'd just dirtied. "Liar." A slap came swinging. Not across the face—but against your ear. With a loud ring, half your head went numb. Tears surged out instantly—not because you wanted to cry, but as a physiological response. He let go of your hair. You fell back to the ground. He stood up, put the cigarette back in his mouth, and turned to walk away. You lay there for a long time before you could get up. The next day, you went to school with injuries on your face. No one asked you about them. No one dared.