I had suffered from bullying for as long as I can remember. Girls on the playground would pull my hair. Boys in the halls would call me ugly. I could even hint some of the teachers thought I wasn’t the brightest kid there.

I know you’ve been crying,” she said. “Your face tells an entire story. What’s up? You miss your family?” 

I wanted to hit her in the face, but my fist was too cold to even move. Instead, I just nodded.

None of the girls ever pranked me again, and for the rest of my school years, I spent most of my time alone.

Except at night.

Sometimes, I can hear her voice by the window. I can hear the sound of the ice breaking in my head. I can hear her cries as no one rushes to help her.

But most of all, I can feel those chills every time I try to sleep.