Why did I show up to school with a black eye I gave myself?

Why did I show up to school with a black eye I gave myself? To see who'd actually care. I was the theater kid everyone called dramatic. So when I used stage makeup to create a realistic bruise, I told one person—my best friend Maya. I whispered that things got bad at home and begged her not to tell. By third period, everyone knew. But nobody helped. They just gossiped. Mrs. Patterson said "Theater kids will do anything for drama." Mr. Davis, our guidance counselor, saw my face and kept walking. Girls I sat with moved tables without a word. Guys joked about my dad having good aim. Someone posted a poll asking if I deserved it. Sixty-three percent said yes. The school cop saw me and did nothing. Only one person helped—Dex, the quiet kid nobody noticed. He left a note: "My mom runs a shelter. Here's my number if you need help." After five days, I called a school meeting and wiped off the makeup. "This was fake. Three people out of 1,400 students and 80 staff asked if I was okay. Three." I showed screenshots of the poll, recordings of teachers dismissing me. The district settled. Five staff got fired. But two weeks later, Dex stopped coming to school. I visited and his mom answered with a real bruise. She'd left her own shelter to escape her partner. "Dex has dealt with this his whole life," she said. The one kid who saw me was the one everyone ignored.