The weather changed suddenly, and the temperature rose to thirty degrees. In the schoolyard, children were running around in t-shirts and shorts.

Sofia, the school nurse, was standing in the hallway conducting a routine check-up. That day, one student immediately caught her eye.

He wore long dark pants, a thick jacket, and… a knitted winter hat. The very same one he had worn all winter. The same style, the same fuzz on the threads. The hat was pulled down all the way to his eyebrows.

“Hello, dear,” she said softly when he entered the room. “It’s hot… maybe you want to take off your hat?”
The boy recoiled. He gripped the hat tightly with both hands as if afraid it would be forcibly taken from him.
“No, thank you,” he mumbled. “I… I need to wear it.”
Sofia didn’t insist. She performed the check silently but felt growing concern inside. The boy was tense, flinching every time the hat shifted even a millimeter. As if something terrible was hiding beneath it.
When the nurse finally took off the hat, she was simply horrified by what she saw 😱😱 Continued in the first comment below 👇👇
Later, at lunch, she approached his class teacher.
“I’m worried too. He’s been wearing that hat every day since spring break. Not before that. During gym class, he had a meltdown when the coach asked him to take it off. We decided not to push it.”

Sofia nodded. She couldn’t get it out of her head. In the evening, she called the number listed in the medical records.
“Good evening. This is your son’s school nurse.”
“He’s not sick,” a man’s voice interrupted. “We’re not the type to run to the doctor for nonsense.”

“I noticed he still wears his winter hat despite the heat. Maybe he has increased sensitivity of the scalp? Or another condition?”
There was a long pause. Then:
“It’s a family decision. None of your business. He knows he has to wear it.”
“I also saw a stain on the hat. It looks like blood. Were there any injuries?”

“Minor scrapes. We manage ourselves. Without your help. Don’t call again.”
A week later, the class teacher rushed into the nurse’s office, her face full of concern.
“He has terrible headaches,” she whispered. “He holds his head, staggers, and barely speaks.”

The boy sat on the examination couch, eyes downcast, hands pressed to his head.
“Dear, listen to me,” Sofia kneeled before him. “I need to look. We’ll close the door, no one will see.”
He didn’t answer. He just trembled. Then whispered:
“Dad forbade me to take it off. He’ll get angry. And my brother said… if anyone finds out — they’ll take me away. It’ll be because of me.”
Sofia sighed deeply and put on gloves.

“You’re not to blame. Let me help you, please.”
He closed his eyes and nodded silently.
When she gently pulled the hat, the boy screamed.
“It’s stuck… it hurts…”
Solution, bandages, antiseptic. Sofia worked slowly and very carefully. The hat yielded with difficulty, as if it was stuck to his head.
When she finally removed it — both women froze.
Under the hat, there was no hair. Only burns. Dozens. Deep, round, oozing. Some fresh, some healed. Cigarette marks. Torn, matted, inflamed skin.
“My God…” they both breathed out, covering their mouths with their hands.

The boy sat quietly, eyes closed.
“Dad said I behaved badly,” he whispered. “And my brother bought the hat so no one would notice… He said it would pass…”
That same evening, the police took the father away. Doctors examined the boy at the hospital. He was placed in a safe place.