Flight, Fight and Freeze… Freeze

There are three kinds of reactions to danger: Fight, Flight, or Freeze. It's a stress response to imminent threat—or, as some call it, survival instinct. 

Zoan likes to think hers is Freeze.

After all, that's what she's been doing… right? When threats emerge, all she does is stand by and watch. She feels like a coward, a chicken, someone without a backbone.

Zoan trembles as she watches Lisa slam Mei against the lockers, her head bouncing painfully off the metal. Zoan is certain she sees a slight bend in the door.

At a nearby table, Desmond and Adonis sit, chuckling and sipping chocolate drinks through straws, completely indifferent to the scene unfolding before them.

Zoan swallows hard, blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through the window. Why is she still here? School ended hours ago. Why is she still watching Lisa hurt Mei, over and over?

The answer is simple: she froze. She's scared and feels powerless. In the face of danger, her response is Freeze.

"You never said sorry to Zoan, did you?" Lisa taunts, kneed Mei in the stomach, causing her to crumple to the floor, curling into herself and gagging. Zoan watches as Mei spits saliva onto the ground, her body trembling like a leaf.

She wants to help—she truly does. She wants to shout at Lisa to stop and tell Desmond and Adonis to go to hell. But her mouth is dry, and she fears that if she speaks, she'll croak like a dying animal.

"Mei mei, come on, apologize to Zoan," Lisa kicks Mei again, making her grunt and try to shield herself with her arms.

Zoan's grip tightens around her book as she watches the relentless assault. She should do something—anything! She has to help Mei, she must!

But what can she do? She's smaller than everyone in this room, barely able to lift a chair, let alone defend someone else. What hope does she have against Adonis and Desmond, two boys who are twice her size? Or Lisa, who once effortlessly hugged her torso and lifted her off the ground?

In that moment, all she can do is watch, frozen in fear.

Face it—she's powerless to do anything.

Zoan continues to watch as Lisa, Desmond, and Adonis eventually walk out of the room. "Hey, do you want to come to my house?" Lisa asks at the door. Zoan flinches, still seated at her desk, while Mei slowly stands, trembling.

"No thanks," Zoan replies, relieved her voice didn't break. Lisa lets out a whine before nodding. "Aww, alright then," she says, closing the door behind her. Zoan swallows painfully, turning to Mei, who is holding her stomach, visibly shaken.

Quickly, Zoan stands and approaches Mei, reaching out to help her. "Leave," Mei growls, slapping Zoan's hand away in anger, shooting her a seething glare.

Zoan notices the bruise on Mei's cheek and the blood on her lip. She steps back, pulling out her handkerchief and offering it to Mei, who stands unsteadily.

Mei looks down at the fabric in Zoan's hand, her eyes burning with self-hatred and anger. "Is this your way of showing pity? Like I'm beneath you? Huh? Miss Perfect?" she spits, and Zoan flinches.

That's not what this is! Zoan wants to scream. She just wants to help.

"N-No!" Zoan's voice cracks as Mei lets out a pitiful chuckle, slapping Zoan's hand away and letting the handkerchief fall to the floor. Zoan takes another step back, surprised.

No one had ever laid their hands on her—not even her father. She holds the stinging hand that Mei struck, feeling a strange burn. "I was only trying to help," Zoan mumbles, realizing too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

Mei slams her fist against the locker behind her, letting out an enraged shout. "You watched me get hurt! Where's the help in that?!"

"Stop pretending you care, Zoan. We all know you don't!" Mei hisses, each word cutting deeper than the last.

Overwhelmed, Zoan bolts from the room, leaving her handkerchief on the floor and her book forgotten on the desk. The only thing she manages to grab is her bag, clutching it tightly as she rushes out, fear coursing through her like a cold wave. She feels like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, desperate to escape the chaos behind her.

—

"Why aren't you eating your food?" Sol asks, her voice laced with concern as she leans over Zoan, who seems lost in thought, her plate untouched.

Zoan pushes the meat and rice around, too distracted to take a bite.

"Hey, eat properly. We're at the dining table; show some respect," Elias chides, shaking his head. Zoan nods, biting her lip as she forces the food into her mouth, swallowing as if it were a matter of survival.

Suddenly, she chokes. Coughing violently, she turns away and vomits on the floor. Sol yelps in shock while Elias sighs in disappointment, tears streaming down Zoan's cheeks.

The next thing she knows, she's in her room, wearing pajamas, her hair damp as Sol gently dries it. "You must be sick. Did you take off the towel I placed on your back? Didn't I tell you not to let your sweat dry?" Sol asks, her fingers soothing Zoan's hair.

"Hn," Zoan mumbles, disinterested in conversation. "Have you been making friends? I heard you're quite popular at school," Sol teases, playfully pinching her cheek.

"By the way, I checked your bag. Where's your handkerchief? And I think you're missing a book too. You must have left it at school," Sol continues, but Zoan freezes, the realization hitting her.

The memory of Mei's whimpering echoes in her mind. Zoan shuts her eyes tight, pressing her palms against her ears.

"Zoan? Are you okay?" Sol's voice is gentle as she takes Zoan's hands, prying them away from her ears. Zoan opens her eyes, looking up at Sol with tears glistening in her gaze.

"Oh Zoan, so there really was a problem? What's wrong?" Sol knelt on the ground, gently carding her fingers through Zoan's short hair. Zoan sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sol quickly wiped them away with her thumb. "Shhh, it's okay. We don't have to talk about it now, hmm?" She helped Zoan lie back, pulling the covers over her body.

"Your hair is getting longer; you should tie it back," Sol said, gently moving Zoan's hair and spreading it on the pillow to avoid pulling while she slept.

Zoan stared at her, her eyes still glossy. "Can you sleep beside me today?" she whispered. Sol paused, surprised. The last time Zoan had asked for this was when her mother left for Germany, and that had felt like ages ago.

Maybe there really is a problem, Sol thought, and she nodded. Zoan made space for her, and Sol lay down beside her. Zoan took her hand and placed it softly in her hair. "Can you keep doing that?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sol nodded, gently carding her fingers through Zoan's hair, feeling the tension begin to ease between them. Zoan's body sagged.

"Good night, Zoan. Just sleep; I'll be here until tomorrow, okay?" Sol reassured her. Zoan nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she curled closer.

Sol sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Zoan?" she whispered.