Inside my dormitory room, the atmosphere feels heavy. The afternoon light, a muted gold, lazily streams in, creating contrasting shadows on the fusion of plastic and metal that makes up the room's furniture.
"Dea, this is unacceptable," I begin, my voice shaking with fury, each word charged with raw emotion, akin to a storm brewing within me. "On my very first day in class, I am bullied." The bitterness of the words tastes metallic on my tongue. "What's that guy's problem? Does he want me to confront him? Does he really want me to go to his house, kill his mother and stab his father, burn his house and kick his dog? What is his problem?? Dea, do you happen to know if he has a sister?"
There's a brief pause before Dea's voice, a soft whisper in my mind, replies, "No, I don't know. Why?"