There was a knock on my door but I don't want to open the door There was a gentle tap on my door. I guessed it was my father. "Hey Brian, you in there?" I didn't feel like replying. I was sitting in one corner of my room. It was surprising how you could clearly see the whole room from here, all the little details. I realised that I had never looked at my room in this way.

My father knocked again, but I still didn't feel like replying. The last few months had been extremely tough for me. I had moved out to this city with my dad after his transfer. He had told that it would take some time to adjust to the new surroundings, but it was extremely difficult for me. Especially the school.

I hated the way the people at school looked at me, as if I was an alien. I hated those looks, the murmurs, the gossips that went behind my back. Then it started. One day while I was in the library, they surrounded me. After that, it started raining punches and kicks on me. I could not even cry out. And after that it slowly became the daily routine for me, getting beaten up by the boys. I was too afraid to tell it to my father. I would hide the injuries from him, wear hoodies even at home just so that he wouldn't know.

Outside, slowly I felt panic rising. The knocks changed into blows. My father was shouting out loud, asking me to open the door. For a moment, I felt like opening the door but I was feeling too tired. Also the corner was warm and comfortable.

A sudden blow and the door opened, and my father entered the room. I looked at him, the expression in his face changed slowly from tension to one of horror. I was sitting there but he wasn't looking at me. He eyes were transfixed in the middle of the room, where my body was hanging from the ceiling.