Martin

Martin isn't the kind of bad boy you see in movies. He isn't loud. He doesn't pick fights in crowded hallways or show off just to get attention. Most of the time, he's leaning against a wall with his headphones on, drowning out the world with music that's a little too loud. Sure, he gets into trouble. He skips classes, breaks rules he doesn't care about, and has probably made out with half the school—boys and girls alike. People think they've got him figured out because of it. They don't. What most people don't see are the bruises on his knuckles after a bad day. The way his temper flares before he can stop it. The sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why everything feels so heavy. The way he pushes people away the second they get too close. Martin has spent years building a version of himself that nobody questions. A version that's easier to understand than the truth. And as long as nobody looks too closely, maybe they'll never realize how much he's hiding.