Eileen Daniels was the girl everyone loved but few truly cared about. Her kindness knew no bounds - a smile always on her face, a hand always outstretched to help, and a heart always open to absorb the needs of others. But behind her bright, eager-to-please facade was a girl yearning for something more than just fleeting gratitude.

At home, the emptiness was suffocating. Her parents, successful but distant, treated her more like a responsibility than a daughter. Their affection was measured in allowances and expensive gadgets, but never hugs or shared moments. Dinners were eaten in silence, with the hum of her father's phone calls and the clinking of her mother's silverware filling the void.

Eileen's relationships outside the house were no better. She tried to make up for her hollow home life by becoming the perfect friend, student, and classmate. She did others' homework, stayed up late organizing events, and gave up her weekends to help friends in need. But her kindness wasn't always met with kindness in return.

One day, after staying late at school to finish decorating for an upcoming play, Eileen overheard her so-called friends whispering in the hallway.

"She's such a pushover," one girl sneered. "She'll do anything we ask, like a little pet."

The words hit her like a slap. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced herself to smile when they entered the room. "Everything's ready," she said cheerfully, even as her heart ached.

The bullying continued in subtle ways - snide comments, exclusion from plans, and even mocking her behind her back. The pressure to please everyone wore her down, and she began to lose herself entirely. Exhaustion and self-doubt consumed her until one day, she found herself sitting alone in her room, staring at the ceiling, wondering who she truly was.

The breaking point came on a cold, rainy afternoon. Eileen was walking home, carrying a stack of books for a group project she wasn't even a part of. She stepped onto the crosswalk without looking both ways, her mind fogged with exhaustion. The screech of tires snapped her out of her thoughts. A car swerved and missed her by inches, but she slipped on the wet pavement and fell hard onto the road.

She wasn't seriously hurt, but the shock of the near-accident was enough to shatter the illusion she had built around herself. As she sat on the pavement, soaked and trembling, a single thought echoed in her mind: "Why am I always the one who bends?"