She had a severe stuttering problem that made even the simplest conversations agonizing for her. Children at school noticed immediately; they mocked her relentlessly. She had no friends, no allies. There was one particular incident that haunted Joel forever: a group of cruel classmates had lit her hair on fire, laughing hysterically as she screamed and flailed. The teacher had managed to extinguish it just in time, but the memory, the terror, the smell of smoke, the sensation of her tiny body shaking, remained with Joel forever.
Despite having a loving family, Jesica had only one person who truly understood her. That person was Joel, her brother. He had become her source of joy, her anchor in a world that constantly reminded her of her inadequacies. Weekends were their refuge. He took her to places where she could forget her pain for a few hours: bustling restaurants, quiet amusement parks after hours, the zoo where she could marvel at animals without fear of ridicule, sometimes even small trips to lakes or nearby towns. Every smile she had, every laugh she could muster, was shared with him. He wasn't just her brother; he was her protector, and her companion, the only one she could fully rely on.
Her world changed the day she noticed the boy from her class. Unlike the others, he didn't seek attention. He was quiet, soft-spoken, always keeping to himself. He shared her hobbies: drawing, reading, and occasionally escaping into online worlds where reality didn't weigh them down. For Jesica, he became an obsession.
For the first time, she focused on something other than her suffering, and the intensity of her feelings overwhelmed her fear of judgment. She gathered courage and sent him a message on social media, a small, tentative introduction. To her relief, he responded positively. Their conversations blossomed over weeks: casual chats, small exchanges of shared thoughts, eventually deeper confessions of loneliness and dreams.
One evening, he asked her to meet him in a park seven kilometers from her home. Excitement and anxiety wrestled within her. She knew that if she asked her parents or Joel for a ride, it would draw unnecessary attention; they would worry, they would interfere. Determined, she set off alone.
The cold November wind cut through her jacket, her legs ached, lungs burning with effort. She walked steadily, each step a mix of hope and terror. By the time she arrived at the park, two hours later, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Her body shook, her hands were numb, but her mind raced with anticipation: Why isn't he here yet? Is he planning a surprise?
She sent him a message. No reply. Minutes stretched into an hour, the darkness growing heavier, swallowing hope. She realized, finally, that he would not come. Alone, in the park, under the flickering glow of the streetlights, she cried. Her body shivered uncontrollably, her tears mixing with the cold air. Back home, her parents had been frantic for hours. Her mother sobbed uncontrollably, screaming into the phone, calling everyone she could think of.
Her father tried to orchestrate a search, contacting the police, neighbors, relatives, anyone who might know where she was. Meanwhile, Joel had already mounted his bike and ridden into the night, searching tirelessly, knocking on doors, shouting her name into empty streets. Finally, he found her curled on the ground, shivering and weeping. He rushed to her, enveloping her in his arms, whispering, "It's alright, it's alright. I'm here now."
Jesica clung to him, tears streaming, stuttering, her voice barely audible. "W–why wh–why always me… b–born just to su–ffer?" Joel, trembling himself, held her closer. "No. You are an angel. That's exactly why you're strong, to endure, to survive." She showed him the messages she had exchanged with the boy, and Joel understood immediately what had happened. "I will always be here for you, no matter what.
One day, you will find someone who understands you like I do. If not, regardless I will always be here." He placed her in front of him on the bike, guiding her back home with meticulous care, stopping along the way to buy her favorite snacks. Though she smiled faintly to comfort him, her heartbreak was raw and unyielding. That night, Joel slept on the floor of her room, silent, watching her sleep, guarding her as he always had.
The next morning, when Jesica returned to school, cruelty awaited her. The same students laughed, whispered, mocked. The quiet boy from her messages laughed the loudest, his social standing elevated at her expense. She fled the school, tears streaming, retreating into the safety of her home. Months passed in silence, isolation, and despair. Her mental health deteriorated with each passing day, until one day she took her own life, hanging herself in her room.
Joel arrived to find her body swaying gently, eyes open in silent plea. He collapsed, clutching her legs, body trembling violently, his mind replaying every memory, every stolen moment, every laugh they had shared. "No… no… this can't be true. I am so sorry. I couldn't protect you… I promised."
The funeral was unbearable. His mother's wails of anguish echoed through the streets, his father's mind fractured by denial, drifting in a haze of shock and disbelief. The neighborhood mourned collectively, yet Joel could not participate. He could not process the loss. He walked away from the ceremony, hollowed out, broken, transformed.
Two weeks later, Joel's world hardened further. Returning home from a party, he spotted a street dog along the roadside. The dog's legs were broken, its body emaciated, bones visible under taut skin, and it squealed pitifully in pain. Joel felt a pang of remorse but decided to end the creature's suffering. He lifted a heavy rock and brought it down with deliberate force, crushing the dog's skull. He dragged the body into a nearby bin, feeling a grim mixture of guilt and satisfaction, believing he had acted rightly.
From that day forward, Joel immersed himself in substances, seeking numbness. He introduced his friends to alcohol, drugs, and other vices, filling the void inside him. Socially present but emotionally distant, he grew colder, more detached, but he retained a soft spot for those society abandoned, the weak, the outcast, the special.
A year later, he encountered Ronnie, the boy whose cruel prank had contributed to Jesica's despair. The sight of him, laughing with his girlfriend, ignited a calculated, simmering rage. Joel waited that night, ski mask concealing his face, brass knuckles in hand. As Ronnie passed through a narrow alley, Joel struck. A sucker punch to the forehead dented his skull, disorienting him. Joel grabbed his hair, delivering repeated blows to the chest and gut until Ronnie collapsed. The injuries were lasting but non-lethal: two broken ribs, a permanent dent in his skull. Joel walked away into the night, unseen, a man reshaped by grief, vengeance, and the cold clarity of survival.