Truth was, back when she was desperate for my approval, Sandra tried everything to get on my good side. She played the perfect little angel, just to win my favor.
And when I was in a good mood, I treated her like a younger relative—affectionate, but distant. I kissed her on the forehead, like a proud older brother.
She was over the moon. She even posted it online to show off. But Tommy saw it... and decided I was trying to steal his girl. That’s when the nightmare began.
He started a two-year campaign of bullying. He planted thumbtacks in my basketball shoes, stuffed pornographic cards in my desk drawer and poured industrial glue on my chair. He even spread filthy rumors online—claiming I seduced middle-aged teachers for money, saying one of them scrubbed my back with a steel wool brush.
Thanks to him, my name at school was garbage. I reported it over and over again. But every time, the school brushed it off with a forced apology from him, like that would fix everything.
Then, he crossed the line—he brought the fight to my home.
“I’m Sandra’s great–grandf..”
I didn’t even get to finish the sentence.
Tommy grabbed the soup pot in front of me and poured it over my head.
“Ahhh!”