It was mid-November when I first saw him. He was a new student transferring into our school. He wore a black hoodie and a t-shirt underneath it, with typical jeans, and he was tall, pale, and skinny, looking like he hadn't eaten anything in months. I could instantly see that this guy would be a target for bullies. As someone in my fourth year of high school, I was well aware of the cruel nature of senior students. They can be ruthless, and this transfer student was an easy target. I was apprehensive about the coming year, as I knew it would be tough on him. The bullying that would ensue would be brutal, and the senior bullies were the worst. They could do terrible things. The thought made me shudder.

Although I may be viewed as different by some, the senior bullies in my school have learned not to mess with me. It all changed after a certain incident where I almost took someone's life. I suppose you could say I have a reputation now - people in this school often whisper, "Don't mess with Candice Light." I must admit, I find satisfaction in hearing those words.

You may wonder why I remain in this place that is filled with contempt. The answer is simple: money. Money has a way of resolving many problems, even those stemming from this wretched environment. The person who wronged me deserved the consequences that befell him, in my opinion. Unfortunately, the authorities disagreed. They preached that violence is not the solution, but I ask, what choice did I have? He was choking the life out of me, and I had to fight to survive.

In that horrifying moment, instinct took over. I grasped anything within reach and dealt a forceful blow to his head. In truth, it could have been stronger, but I was weak at that particular instant. Regardless, I was determined to defend myself, and I struck him repeatedly. I saw him lying there, his face covered in blood. I was sure he was dead, and in that moment, a twisted satisfaction overtook me. No longer would I have to endure his annoying laughter - the sound that made my blood boil and fueled my darkest thoughts. Thoughts that made me contemplate acts far worse than what I had just done.

The cleaning staff witnessed the incident. They were shocked, and immediately contacted the principal. I was taken to the police station while the other student was rushed to a hospital for immediate treatment. My parents arrived for the first time at an event of my life, and I was overwhelmed with emotions. To my surprise, his parents also arrived, despite their son's condition. The situation seemed to be settled quickly, with the other student's parents accepting a payment of $25,000 in exchange for his life. His mother appeared to be struggling with addiction, while his father seemed to be plagued by alcohol and gambling addiction. In comparison, my parents appeared to be more capable and responsible. Thankfully, my parents ensured that the other family would not blackmail or threaten us in any way. Although I may have a reputation for being a volatile individual, I had to admit that my parents' actions and decisions far outweighed my own reckless behaviors.

We arrived home, and I immediately sensed the impending storm. My father's hand connected with my face so forcefully that I thought my teeth might loosen. My mother just stood there, a spectator to my humiliation. It seemed as though she found amusement in the redness that stained my cheeks. "ARE YOU ******* CRAZY? WHAT THE **** WERE YOU THINKING?!" My father's voice roared, his anger vibrating through the air. I could see the devil himself reflected in his eyes. "If the word got out, my company would be affected. Do you even think of anything besides yourself?!" He tightened his grip on my arms, leaving a mark that I knew would linger.

I mustered the courage to respond, fueled by the injustice of it all. "I almost died today because of that bastard, and yet you only care about your damn company and your precious reputation?!" My father chuckled, a cold sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Everything would be so much easier if you just died," he spat directly at me. I expected it to wound me, but it didn't. In fact, I wished it would, for then at least he would know the pain he inflicted upon me. "But alas, I am still alive," I retorted, sarcasm dripping from my words. "Don't worry, father, next time I'll try to make sure I succeed in dying. But tell me, won't it affect you even worse? What kind of parents send their child to a public school, only to let her perish there? It would be quite disastrous for your precious reputation, don't you think?" My face burned as I dared to challenge him.

My father's anger escalated with each passing moment. He raised his hand to strike me again, but my mother intervened, surprising me. "Enough, it's already happened. The only thing we can do now is stop the news from spreading. As for you, Candice, you better behave yourself. If this happens again, I won't hesitate to end your existence myself," she said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

My father, now slightly calmer, was sent upstairs by my mother. "You'll be transferring to a new school tomorrow," she informed me. My instinct was to resist, and my mother laughed in response. "You truly are stubborn. Why must you make everything so difficult?" I couldn't help but smile at her, an attempt to maintain some semblance of control in this chaotic situation. "Because I'm your daughter," I replied. My mother's smile faded, replaced by an expression of anger.

"I will clean up the mess you've made, but for now, I need you to stay out of the public eye," she declared firmly before departing from the room.

After that day, I found solace in the fact that everyone avoided me. I was grateful to be left alone and not subject to their judgment or ridicule. People must have thought I was crazy, but in a way, I preferred it that way.

Despite the gravity of my actions, I was only suspended for a year. That was one of the reasons why students in this school hated me. They thought I had some sort of privilege that they did not possess. I suppose they were right, but it wasn't as though I had asked for these advantages. Life is unfair, and I was merely a product of that.

I knew my behavior had set me apart from those around me, but I was okay with that. It was better to be ostracized than to be a part of a society that would never accept, understand, or appreciate me.

I remember the first time I saw Danny, and I could never forget that moment. I was walking down the empty corridors, when I heard the sound of punches. I quickly walked in the direction of the loud noise, and that's when I saw Danny being beaten up.

His eyes looked empty, as if he had no emotions. It was one of the most shocking moments in my life. Since then, Danny has never left my mind. I kept seeing him at school, but he never even looked at me, let alone glance in my direction. The situation has been bothering me.

I hadn't seen Danny in days and for the first time ever, I was worried about someone. It was a strange feeling, especially since I couldn't talk to anyone about it. My classmates didn't care about Danny and had no interest in being associated with me. Even the teachers didn't seem to know much about him, apart from his name – Danny Galore. I haven't seen Danny for days and, for the first time ever, I began to feel a sense of worry for someone. However, I even tried asking some of my teachers, but they didn't know anything about Danny other than his name. Desperate for answers, I tried searching his name on social media but came up empty-handed after hours of searching. Frustrated by my lack of progress, all I could do was think about him.

The next day, I saw Danny again, and as usual, he was being beaten. I couldn't stand by and watch it happen, I couldn't ignore him again. I walked up to the guy who was beating him, without even thinking about it. As I did, eyes turned to me, and the beating stopped.

"Let him go," I said. The guy laughed, "Just because you almost killed Christopher doesn't mean you get to boss me around, little girl." He said.

"I'll pay you 1000 bucks to let him go," I said. "Make it 2000, and we'll leave for a day," they countered.

I rummaged through my wallet and handed over the cash. "It was nice doing business with you, little girl," he said. "Next time, we won't be so nice," he warned, before him and his cronies left.

"Hey," Danny said, looking at me. I couldn't read his expression; was he angry or grateful? "What did you do?" he asked. "I just saved you," I said, not waiting for a response before walking away.

"You didn't, you made things worse," he said, standing up. "Do you know what'll happen to you? They're probably planning on something to do with you. Why couldn't you just stay out of it?" he asked, and walked off. "I GUESS THAT'S HOW YOU SAY THANK YOU THESE DAYS, YOU'RE WELCOME BTW ASSHOLE!" I shouted, and he was gone.

As I walked down the crowded hallway, I couldn't shake the anger that had been boiling inside me all day. I had just saved Danny from his attackers, yet he had the nerve to treat me like I was a stranger. I didn't want anything to do with him, so I ignored him and went on about my business.

When I arrived at my locker, I was surprised to see Danny standing there. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my tone sharp. "I just wanted to say sorry for how I acted earlier," he said. "You saved me and I didn't even thank you. Thank you, Candice."

My anger started to subside a little, but I still didn't want anything to do with him. "Yeah, whatever," I said, shoving my books into my locker. "Can you please move so I can put my stuff back?"

Danny stepped away, and I locked my locker and turned to leave. But before I could take a step, I heard him call out to me.

"Do you accept my apology?" he asked, stepping closer to me.

"Why are you following me?" I asked, my anger stirring again.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Danny said, meeting my eyes. "Do you accept my apology?" he asked again.

I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves. "Yes, okay, thank you for the apology," I said.

"Why did you defend me?" he asked.

"I was just tired of seeing those bullies beating up other students," I said.

Danny was tall, maybe 6'2 or taller, but his face was filled with bruises. It was obvious he was getting beaten up a lot.

"Why do you let them do that to you?" I asked him. "Even if I fought back, I couldn't do anything about it. I tried once, and it didn't end well," Danny said.

"Why did you defend me?" he asked, looking at me as if he could read my emotions. "I was just tired of seeing those guys beating up people. Nobody should have to go through that," I said.

I couldn't help but soften my gaze at his response. "I understand," I said, knowing what it's like to feel helpless in the face of bullies. "But you don't have to go through this alone, you know."

He looked at me, surprised by my words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can stand up to them together. I'm not afraid of a little confrontation," I said with a smirk.

Danny let out a laugh and I couldn't help but smile. It was a start. Maybe we could become friends after all.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. "Come on," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with me. "Let's go home."

As we walked side by side, I couldn't shake off the feeling that this was the start of something new and exciting. Maybe Danny and I could become the unlikely duo that stands up to bullies. Thinking about it makes me smile.

But first, we needed to figure out a plan.