(Age 7):
You had been struggling with social anxiety for a few years now, making school an everyday, uphill battle. Mitch had gotten you a stuffed seahorse, since you were obsessed with them, as a type of security object to keep with you.
You had been doing well in school, only having the occasional slip-up, which happened to be that day.
You were out on the playground, minding your own business, when a group of girls came over to you. "Hey, Y/N, whatcha got there?" "My seahorse," you said, shyly looking up to the "head honcho" of the group, Tara.
All of a sudden, she started pulling on your seahorse, saying, "Just let me see it! Give it over!" You refused to let go and so she ripped your seahorse's head right off.
A teacher ran over, splitting the two of you up and taking your seahorse, head and all. You were then escorted to the office, put on a bench to wait until your father could come down to the school.
Mitch got the call from your school, immediately worried, and headed down to your principal's office. By the time he got there, you were sobbing on the bench. "What's wrong, baby girl?" You tried to answer, but between the constant sobs and lack of breath, he couldn't understand you. Your principal called him into her office, beginning to explain the situation.
"So, Mr. Grassi, it seems that your daughter and Tara were in an altercation during recess today. The two began to fight over a toy and, as a result, the head was removed," she said, putting the decapitated seahorse on her desk.
"Why is Y/N the only one outside of your office? That's her seahorse!"
"Mr. Grassi, Tara stated that it was hers and that Y/N ripped the head off," Mrs. Cuban said.
Mitch immediately stood up and took the seahorse saying, "That was a total lie and I would really appreciate it if this never became an issue again." He then ran out to get you off the bench.
"It's okay, baby. I'm here and we're gonna get Flower stitched right up and she'll be good as new," Mitch said, kissing your head as he took you home.
