​The final bell of the day didn't sound like freedom; it sounded like a starting pistol for a race Elias knew he couldn’t win.

​While the hallways of St. Jude’s exploded into a chaotic symphony of slamming lockers and frantic weekend plans, Elias moved like a shadow against the lockers. He kept his head down, his oversized backpack acting as a literal shield against the world. Inside that bag was his sanctuary: three hundred pages of meticulous biology notes, hand-drawn diagrams of cellular respiration, and a worn copy of The Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

​He almost made it to the edge of the school grounds. The rusted iron gates were only twenty yards away when the shadow fell over him.

​"Leaving so soon, Eli? We haven't checked your homework yet."

​The voice belonged to Julian. It wasn't loud or snarling; it was smooth, possessed of the casual confidence that comes with never having been told 'no.'

​Elias didn't look up. He knew the formation before he felt it. Julian stood directly in front, blocking the path. Behind him, the twins—Leo and Jax—flanked the sides like heavy bookends. And somewhere in the rear, silent and watchful, was Sarah. She was the one who usually filmed it.

​"I have to get home," Elias whispered. His voice felt thin, like paper ready to tear.

​"Home can wait," Leo said, his hand landing heavy on Elias's shoulder. The grip tightened, fingers digging into the muscle until Elias felt his knees buckle instinctively. "We heard you’re the top of the class in Chem. Must be nice, having a brain that actually works."

​Before Elias could respond, Jax hooked a foot behind his heel and shoved.

​The impact with the gravel was dull and jarring. Elias’s palms scraped against the grit, stinging instantly, but his first instinct wasn't to protect his skin—it was to clutch the straps of his bag.

​"Give it here," Julian said, reaching down.

​"No," Elias gasped. It was the only word he had.

​Julian didn’t get angry. He simply nodded to the twins. In a blur of motion, Elias was hauled upward by his collar and pinned against the brick wall of the equipment shed, hidden from the main road. A fist caught him in the stomach—a short, practiced burst of air-stealing pain—and his grip finally failed.

​The backpack hit the dirt with a heavy thud.

​Julian knelt, unzipping the main compartment with the slow deliberation of a surgeon. He pulled out the biology binder first. He flipped through the pages, eyeing the neat, colorful labels Elias had spent weeks perfecting.

​"Look at this," Julian mocked, holding a page up for the others. "The 'Architect of the Cell.' You really think you're going somewhere, don't you?"

​With a flick of his wrist, Julian ripped the first ten pages out. The sound was deafening in the small alleyway.

​"Stop," Elias choked out, struggling against the twins’ hold. "Please, that’s... that’s all I have."

​"Then you have nothing," Julian replied. He tossed the binder into the open drainage ditch running alongside the shed. The murky, grey rainwater immediately began to soak into the paper, turning the vibrant ink into bleeding, illegible smears.

​The twins let go, and Elias collapsed into the dirt. As he watched, his textbooks were kicked into the mud, and his pens were snapped one by one.

​"See you Monday, Architect," Julian said, stepping over Elias’s legs.

​The four of them walked away, their laughter fading into the distance, leaving Elias alone in the cooling afternoon air. He crawled toward the ditch, reaching into the freezing water to pull out a handful of what used to be his future. The paper disintegrated in his fingers, leaving nothing but grey pulp.

​He didn't cry. He just sat there, covered in dust and dampness, wondering how much of a person could be stripped away before there was truly nothing left to break.