Chapter 4 : The Cry for Help

As Enzo stood outside the homeroom teacher's office, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty hallway, its golden rays filtering through the windows and bathing the corridor in a warm, honeyed glow. The air was heavy with the scent of books and old paper, a familiar fragrance that mingled with the faint aroma of coffee wafting from the teacher's lounge nearby.

Enzo hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting to the door before him – a plain wooden portal adorned with a small plaque that read "Teachers Room" in faded lettering. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay beyond, before pushing open the door and stepping into the dimly lit office beyond.

The room was cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs arranged in a semicircle around a low coffee table piled high with books and magazines. A soft carpet covered the floor, muffling the sound of footsteps and lending an air of warmth and comfort to the space.

Ms. Mariah sat behind her desk, her expression kind but reserved as she regarded Enzo with a mixture of concern and curiosity. She looked up as he entered, her gaze softening slightly at the sight of him standing there. She gestured for him by her hands showing the chair for him to take a seat, her voice gentle but firm as she invited him to share his thoughts and feelings as asking "What trouble you, Enzo? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Enzo swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he struggled to find the words to express the turmoil raging within him. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "Ms. Mariah...I...I've been having a really tough time lately," he began, his voice trembling with emotion. "The kids at school, they...they've been picking on me, and I don't know what to do..."

Ms. Mariah's brow furrowed with concern as she listened to Enzo's words. "What happened?" she asked gently, her voice soft and compassionate.

Enzo's heart clenched at the simple question, a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to articulate the pain he had been enduring. The memory of past beatings flashed in his mind, and he bit his lip in frustration. "They...they call me names, push me around...it's like I can't escape it, beat me ........like they want me dead, they.... they make me do their works," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry you're going through this, Enzo," Ms. Mariah said, her voice tinged with genuine compassion. "Bullying is never okay, and it's important to talk about it."

But as he rise his head towards Ms. Mariah and try to see her with holding on to the flicker of hope , Ms. Mariah, her eyes were fixed on a stack of papers on her desk . There was no sympathy in her gaze, no hint of understanding or compassion – only a cold, indifferent stare that made him feel smaller and more insignificant than ever before.

Enzo finished his speaking not wanting to say an another word  and in that moment, Enzo realized that he had been foolish to expect help from someone who couldn't even begin to understand the depth of his pain.

With a heavy heart, he rose from his seat and made his way to the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway like a dirge of despair. He had come seeking solace, seeking understanding, seeking hope – but all he had found was indifference, a cold and callous reminder of the harsh reality he faced each and every day.

As he stepped out into the sunlight, Enzo couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find the help he so desperately needed, or if he was destined to face his demons alone, forever lost in the shadows of his own despair. With agony in his heart he trudged home, the weight of his torment pressing down on him like a crushing burden. Each step felt like a Herculean effort, his body weary from the relentless onslaught of despair.

The simmering anger within him threatened to boil over as he stormed into his room, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw set in a hard line. With a frustrated growl, he slammed the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the small space like a thunderclap.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar sights – the cluttered desk strewn with half-finished assignments, the shelves lined with books that had once been his refuge, the bed where he had spent countless sleepless nights wrestling with his inner demons.

Without a word, he crossed the room in quick strides and flung himself onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as he tried to suppress the overwhelming surge of emotions threatening to consume him. But try as he might, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of frustration and helplessness that gnawed at his insides, twisting his gut into knots of agony.

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