"Every day at Sacré Cœur had become a nightmare for Eliott. What started as simple mockery spiraled into a whirlwind of physical and mental humiliation. Every hour brought a new ordeal. Marc and his group, always looking for a fresh way to break Eliott, constantly invented new cruel ga
One day during lunch break, as Eliott crossed the courtyard, a voice called out from an upper classroom window. It was Julie, one of Marc's friends, holding a phone, ready to film the scene. "Hey, Eliott! Catch this!" She threw a bag of trash that burst against him. The nauseating smell of leftover food and garbage made him want to vomit, but he could do nothing. Around him, laughter erupted. "Dance for us, Eliott!" shouted Marc, a malicious grin on his face. "But do it in your underwear, or you know what will happen." The stares of other students, either mocking or indifferent, pierced Eliott. He wanted to disappear. Yet, he stood there, frozen. The laughter, the insults... it had become his daily reality. Even his torn and stained clothes no longer fazed him. He felt trapped.
Another day, Marc cornered him behind the gym, far from the eyes of adults. This time, it wasn't mockery but outright violence. Marc's fist came down on Eliott again and again. Each punch crushed him a little more, but it wasn't the pain that destroyed him—it was the helplessness. "That's right, Eliott, you like getting hit, don't you?" Marc sneered between blows, as Julie filmed the scene, as usual.
Meanwhile, at the Moreau household, problems piled up. Eliott's father, desperate from the landlord's constant threats, decided to take matters into his own hands. He went to the police with evidence of harassment and intimidation: photos of their vandalized storefront, hateful messages from the landlord, and even testimonies from neighbors.
But at the station, the officer on duty, a burly man with brusque manners, barely paid him any attention. "Not enough tangible proof," he claimed dismissively, ignoring the visual evidence. "You should drop this complaint." Determined, Eliott's father returned a few days later with more proof: recorded testimonies and documents outlining the landlord's abuse. But again, he faced the same officer, who this time threatened to arrest him for causing a public disturbance if he persisted. As a final provocation, the officer seized the evidence and destroyed it.
"Go home, Mr. Moreau. Trust me, it'll be better for you."
Later that day, the phone rang.
"Hello, Mr. Victor? I have news for you…"
Hours later, the landlord, Victor—a powerful man and a close friend of the officer—was informed in detail about the failed complaint. Amused by the situation, he vowed to make things even harder for the Moreau family.
The following weeks were a living hell for Eliott. Each day, the humiliations grew worse, and he felt his spirit darken under the weight of Marc and his friends' attacks. It seemed as though the entire school knew, but no one wanted to step in to help—until a small group of friends, the only ones who hadn't abandoned him, suggested an idea that might change everything.
One afternoon, in an empty classroom after school, Eliott sought refuge to avoid his tormentors, sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. His friends, hesitant at first, stood by his side. They weren't many, but their support meant the world to him. One of them, Luc, finally broke the silence.
"Eliott, we know you can't fight them directly… but why don't you gather evidence? We have to do something."
Eliott looked up, surprised. "Evidence?"
Clément nodded. "Yes. You're not alone. Jules and I can help you show what they're really doing to you. People need to see what's happening. The teachers won't do anything until they have solid proof, you know that."
Jules nodded silently. Eliott thought for a moment, then realized this might be his only chance. He took a deep breath before responding.
"Alright. But it won't be easy. Marc and his friends cover their tracks well. They never leave clear evidence."
Together, they began to devise a plan. It would be risky, but Eliott was ready to try anything to bring the truth to light. They reviewed everything they could use as evidence: the marks on Eliott's body, the humiliating videos posted online, and perhaps even anonymous testimonies from other students, if they could convince them to speak out.
The first step was photographing the injuries inflicted on Eliott. In the school restroom, away from prying eyes, Luc, armed with his phone, documented the marks on his friend's body. The bruises were still fresh, as were some cuts. Each photo captured the aftermath of Marc and his cronies' assaults. Eliott, embarrassed by his vulnerability, gritted his teeth to hide his pain.
"I didn't think they'd hurt me this much," he muttered, looking at his reflection in the cracked mirror.
"It's obvious, man. They're not holding back," Luc replied, his gaze dark. "But these photos will make a difference. Once we show them, they can't deny what they've done to you."
Eliott nodded, but doubt lingered. He knew visual evidence might not be enough to convince everyone. They needed more.
The second step involved recovering incriminating videos shared on social media. The group gathered after school at one of their houses, surrounded by phones and laptops. They scoured students' profiles, searching for videos that had circulated around the school. Eliott remembered the filmed humiliations: videos of Marc and his friends ridiculing him, throwing trash at him, stealing his belongings, pushing him down the stairs, forcing him to dance ridiculously, or even making him eat live insects.
The videos were scarce, most having been deleted after a few days, but some remained. They had been secretly recorded by other students and shared in private groups. The group managed to download a few, adding more pieces to their growing dossier.
"It's humiliating to watch this over and over," Eliott admitted, staring at the laptop screen, his fists clenched.
"We know, Eliott. But think about the endgame. These videos will work in your favor," one of his friends reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
The hardest part of their plan was convincing some classmates to testify. They knew many students had witnessed the verbal and physical abuse, but fear of retaliation from Marc kept them silent. Eliott and his friends approached certain students in secret, often after classes or in less frequented areas of the school, to avoid drawing attention.
Most refused, their eyes evasive and their answers hesitant: "Sorry, but… I don't want any trouble," "I'd rather stay out of it," "It's too risky." It was a crushing disappointment.
However, a few students, though reluctant, agreed to provide anonymous testimonies. They recounted what they had seen but refused to appear publicly in the complaint. Eliott knew these testimonies might not be enough, but he had no other choice. Something was better than nothing.
As Eliott was in the middle of his efforts, busy collecting and organizing evidence, he crossed paths with Kai in one of the school corridors. Kai, as always, appeared relaxed and indifferent to the chaos around him. But when he saw Eliott, he stopped, his gaze more attentive than usual.
"Hey, Eliott." Kai nodded as he approached. "You look more tense than usual. Everything okay?"
Eliott, caught off guard, didn't know how to respond. He had rarely spoken to Kai, although he had seen him step in for others in similar situations. But right now, he didn't have time to talk. He needed to focus on his mission.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… I've got some stuff to deal with right now. Nothing serious, really," Eliott replied quickly, avoiding Kai's gaze.
Kai narrowed his eyes slightly, skeptical, but didn't press further. "If you ever need anything, let me know, alright? Don't get lost in your problems. Sometimes you need a hand."
Eliott nodded, grateful but hurried. "Thanks, Kai. But I can handle it."
Kai gave him one last look before walking away, leaving Eliott to his plans. Eliott didn't have time to think about other solutions. He had to finish what he had started."