Those two cruel words shattered the morning silence. Sixteen-year-old Emily Carter froze, clutching her crutches tighter as three boys from her high school—Tyler, Jake, and Ryan—approached the bus stop. It was a chilly October morning in suburban Ohio, and mist still clung to the ground. Emily had learned to live with stares after the
car accident that left her with a limp, but cruelty still cut deep.
Tyler, the ringleader, grinned cruelly. “We said move. This is our spot.”
Emily lowered her eyes, pretending not to hear, her hands trembling slightly. But ignoring bullies never stopped them. Ryan suddenly stuck his foot out, tripping her as she tried to adjust her crutches. Emily fell hard onto the concrete, her knees scraping against the rough surface.
The boys burst out laughing. Jake kicked one of her crutches aside. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “Bet you fake that limp for attention.”
Tears stung her eyes, but Emily bit her lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Around them, other commuters looked away, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain.