Scott never felt part of the crowd. As long as he could remember, Scott was the quiet boy, a stranger who preferred books to the hustle and bustle of recess. In every new classroom, other people's glances passed over him as if he didn't exist; groups and friendships were already formed.
He got used to sitting in the last row, in the farthest corner of the classroom. He learned to eat alone in the cafeteria, not to expect anyone to speak to him. Loneliness became his only companion, a constant shadow that enveloped him, reminding him that, no matter how hard he tried, nothing would change.
But high school had no place for those who didn't fit in. Scott, with his silence and his glasses, was an easy target.
"Hey, four-eyes!"
The shout ripped through the air like a whip.
He barely had time to turn his head before feeling the brutal impact on his backpack. The blow threw him forward, destabilizing him. His books slipped from his hands and scattered across the floor with a dull thud. A chorus of laughter erupted around him, a cruel clamor that seemed to echo through every wall of the hallway.
With his heart pounding in his ears, he quickly bent down to pick up his things, his skin burning with shame. But before he could reach his science notebook, a dirty sneaker firmly crushed it.
He looked up.
Brian.
His twisted smile shone with cruel amusement. He leaned in slightly, making sure Scott felt his presence like a dark shadow about to fall over him.
"Well, well, the genius kid isn't so tough after all," he whispered mockingly, his voice dripping venom. "What's wrong? Did your math formulas fall out?"
The group behind him roared with laughter. Their guffaws mixed with complicit shoves and nudges, as if they were enjoying a show, they had seen hundreds of times and still weren't tired of.
Scott felt his throat close up. His stomach churned, trapped in a whirlwind of rage, fear, and shame that grew like a storm ready to burst. He wanted to scream, push Brian, run away, disappear... but he knew any reaction would only make things worse.
No. He wouldn't give them that pleasure.
With trembling hands, he picked up what he could, ignoring the sharp pain of humiliation. He forced himself to breathe, to stand firm, even though inside everything was crumbling.
He stood up and started walking, ignoring the taunts that still pursued him like shadows. He felt their gazes piercing him, each laugh a knife in his back.
He reached the school bathroom and slammed the door shut. He leaned his back against the cold metal and slid down to sit on the floor. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. All day he had held back tears, but now he couldn't anymore.
The first ones rolled warm down his cheeks, silent, but soon his body shook with muffled sobs. He covered his face with his hands, trying to stifle the sound, as if even in his pain he had to be invisible.
Only in that tiny refuge of cold tiles and flickering lights did he let his strength crumble. Because there, at least there, no one was watching him.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
When Scott arrived home that afternoon, the dense air of defeat enveloped him like an unbearable weight.
His mother, Elizabeth, needed no words to understand him. She knew him too well. A glance was enough to notice the shadow of sadness darkening his gaze, the slight shuffle of his steps, the tension in his shoulders.
She didn't ask.
She knew that if she asked at that moment, she would only get an evasive murmur or a simple shrug. So, she waited, patiently. Watching him during dinner, noticing how he barely touched the food she had carefully prepared.
"Honey..." her voice was a whisper wrapped in tenderness, a caress in the midst of the storm. "I want you to try something new. There's a theater workshop at the community center. I think it would do you good."
Scott frowned and looked down at his plate.
Theater.
The mere idea of standing in front of an audience made his stomach churn.
"I don't know, Mom... I'm not good at that."
"Just try it. Once. If you don't like it, you don't have to go back."
She said it softly, but in her eyes, there was an unbreakable firmness. It wasn't a suggestion.
Scott sighed. He knew she wouldn't take no without a fight.
So, against his will, he agreed.
Maybe, just maybe, his mother was right.
Maybe theater could save him.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
The first few days at the workshop were torture.
He felt like an intruder in a world that didn't belong to him.
The other young people moved with an ease he had never known, reciting lines with enviable confidence. Their voices filled the room, their bodies spoke as much as their words. Everything seemed to flow naturally for them.
For Scott, however, every exercise was a struggle. And to make matters worse, it didn't take long for him to notice some familiar faces.
Brian and his group of followers.
The same ones who made his life at school a daily nightmare.
"Look at the little actor!" Brian's voice resonated in the small auditorium, full of mockery. "What talent! I'm sure we'll see you in movies soon."
His classmates' laughter was a brutal blow to his self-esteem.
A cruel echo that seeped into every corner of his mind. He felt the burning shame stain his cheeks. The knot in his throat tightened, humiliation crawling up his skin like a poison.
He wanted to disappear.
But, for the first time... he didn't.
Something inside him ignited.
A spark.
A silent challenge.
That night, standing in front of his bedroom mirror, he forced himself to hold his own gaze.
He imagined himself on a stage.
He imagined himself in a world where his voice didn't tremble.
A world where he could hold his head high without fear.
With that mindset and the little self-esteem he had left, he promised himself to fulfill that desire... someday.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
School was a battlefield. Hallways filled with subtle shoves, with cruel laughter that pursued him at every step. For Scott, each day was a silent struggle, a titanic effort not to succumb to the pressure of insults. But, in the midst of the storm, he found a refuge: Charlie.
Charlie was tall, with dark hair and deep brown eyes, and an enigmatic air that distinguished him from others. His brown skin acquired a golden hue under the fluorescent light of the mechanics workshop, where he spent hours assembling impossible ideas. His mind was a universe without boundaries, a whirlwind where creativity flowed without restrictions.
They met in a forgotten corner of the workshop, where Scott was trying, without much success, to adjust a miniature engine. He was so lost in his frustration that he barely noticed someone's presence beside him, until a confident, calm voice interrupted his concentration.
"That won't work if you don't adjust the resistance properly."
Scott looked up, preparing for the usual mockery, but found eyes full of genuine curiosity. He hesitated a second before responding.
"Oh, really? And what do you suggest?"
Charlie said nothing. He simply took the screwdriver, with precise and agile movements, and adjusted the part with a skill that surprised him. Then he connected the wires, and when he turned on the engine, it roared to life.
"I told you," Charlie said with a satisfied smile.
It was the beginning of something different. From that day on, they became inseparable. They took refuge in the school workshop, immersed in a world where there were no taunts or rejection, only gears, circuits, and the thrill of creating something of their own. There, among tools and sketches, they were unstoppable.
"One day, brother, we will create something that will change the world," Charlie said with an intense sparkle in his eyes as he soldered a small circuit. "Something that will make us unforgettable."
Scott laughed, wiping his hands on his grease-stained apron.
"Maybe a technology company, something innovative..."
"Or a scientific revolution," Charlie added, with a complicit laugh.
For years, Scott had felt like he walked alone in a world that didn't want him. But in that forgotten workshop, between dreams and laughter, he finally found a purpose.
For the first time in a long time, he felt he belonged to something, that he wasn't alone.
And in that instant, he knew that, no matter what the world threw at them, they would always have a corner where they could be exactly who they were meant to be.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
Years passed like leaves swept by the wind, slowly but inevitably transforming everything in their path.
What was once a quiet and fearful child, cowering under the shadow of mockery, began to blossom. He was no longer that boy with evasive eyes and hurried steps through the hallways, but a young man whose intelligence shone with the intensity of a lighthouse in the midst of a storm.
At first, they were small flashes: an equation solved with impeccable logic, an engine disassembled and reassembled with surprising precision. But those flashes soon turned into light.
Teachers began to notice his talent; then, administrators and, finally, the entire school.
His name was no longer synonymous with mockery, but with awe and admiration.
The Technological Innovation Award. Academic Merit. First place in the National Science Fair.
Each award, each applause, each mention on the honor roll were more than achievements: they were scars turned into medals, living proofs of his transformation. Each trophy took him one step further from that child who had once wished to be invisible.
That afternoon, when he left the auditorium with another recognition in his hands, the feeling of triumph enveloped him like a second skin.
But it wasn't until a familiar figure stood in his way that he truly understood how much everything had changed.
Jared.
One of his old bullies, the same one who years ago had pushed him against the lockers, while laughter filled the air like invisible knives.
But this time there was no mockery in his expression, no cruelty in his posture. His eyes avoided Scott's, and his hands, in a gesture of discomfort, sought refuge on the back of his neck.
"Hey, Scott... congratulations on the award. You're... incredible with those things," he said, with a tone that seemed to weigh in his throat.
For an instant, he didn't know what to answer. He looked at him, but not with the old feeling of fear that had once paralyzed him.
No.
Now he saw him from a height that had nothing to do with centimeters, but with everything he had grown inside.
He didn't need to say anything.
There was no need for revenge or to prove anything to anyone.
He simply nodded, a half-smile curving his lips, and went on his way, leaving Jared there, trapped between the past and the present.
Respect had replaced fear.
But Scott knew he hadn't gotten there alone. As soon as he looked up, he found Charlie waiting for him at the door, with that same complicit smile, the same one that had been by his side in the darkest days and now shared the light of his victory.
"So, what's the next invention?" Charlie asked, with the certainty that the best story was yet to be written.
Scott smiled, adjusting his backpack strap.
"Maybe we should start planning our company."
Scott looked at the award in his hands and then at his best friend. He was no longer the child who wanted to disappear. Now, he wanted to create, innovate… change the world.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
One month before entering university, Scott found a yellow envelope with his name handwritten on the dining room table.
His mother looked at him from the kitchen with a mixture of uncertainty and hope in her eyes.
"It arrived this morning," she told him in a low voice.
He frowned, took the envelope, and opened it with trembling fingers. As he unfolded the sheet, his breath caught as he recognized the signature at the bottom of the letter.
Dear son,
I have learned of your achievements and I want to tell you how proud I am of you. For many years I was an absent father, hard and unfair to you. There is not a day that I don't regret it.
I want to ask for your forgiveness. I know words cannot erase the past, but I want you to know that I am willing to change. I want to be by your side, in your victories and your defeats. I want to be the father you deserve.
As a symbol of my repentance, I have left a house for you and your mother. It is a place where you can start anew, away from the mistakes of the past.
With love,
Your father.
He felt his chest tighten. He read the letter over and over, as if the words could change with each reading, as if he could find some trace of falsity in them.
But no.
They were sincere.
He slumped into the chair and stared at the paper in his hands.
"After so many years..." he murmured.
His mother approached and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sometimes, people change too late," she said tenderly, though her voice carried some sadness.
He didn't respond. Part of him wanted to hate those words, but another part wanted to cling to the possibility that, perhaps, his father really wanted to try.
What if this time was different?
He spent the week with the letter always close, folded in his pocket or on his nightstand. He debated whether to call him or wait. Between resentment and the need to close that wound.
But before he could make a decision, fate cruelly intervened.
The news arrived without warning, like a direct blow to the heart.
"Breaking news," the television presenter announced in a solemn voice. "General Richard, a distinguished member of the army and a symbol of national honor, was killed this morning while patrolling the city. It is reported that the general had received threats from a criminal gang, but with courage and determination, he decided to proceed with his work. Official sources have confirmed that the attack was premeditated..."
The air grew thick.
His ears buzzed.
His legs trembled as he understood what he had heard.
His mother rushed to turn off the television, but it was already too late.
The image of the blood-soaked uniform, of the paramedics covering a body with a white sheet, was burned into his mind.
"No..." he whispered, shaking his head, with the desperation of someone trying to reverse the inevitable. "No... it can't be him..."
But it was him.
His father.
The man he had spent his life trying to impress.
The one who had finally told him he was proud of him.
Now he was gone forever.
He fell to his knees on the floor, the letter still clutched in his hand. His mother knelt beside him and hugged him tightly. Scott clung to her as if he feared the world would crumble even further.
"Why now?" his voice was a broken lament, choked with sobs. "Why… just when finally...?"
The words dissolved in his throat.
His mother stroked his hair with infinite tenderness.
"I know it hurts, my love. But he saw you shine before he left. And I'm sure that, wherever he is, he's still proud of you."
Until they found the documents.
His father had left everything prepared.
Among his belongings, they found the papers for a majestic mansion that now belonged to them. A generous inheritance that secured their future.
But neither the money nor the new house could fill the void he left.
The pain was still there.
The emotional scars would take time to heal. And although his father's repentance was real, it had come too late.
Scott could only cling to one thought:
He had seen him shine.
And, although time did not allow them more, that was something no one could take away from him.
──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•
Weeks later, Scott and his mother stopped in front of the grand house.
The sun bathed the white facade, highlighting the wide windows and the meticulously maintained garden. It was a silent symbol of his father's last act of love, of his attempt to redeem himself.
Scott slid a hand into his jacket pocket, feeling the folded paper between his fingers. The letter was still there, a reminder of all that was and what never could be.
"This is where he wanted us to have a new life," his mother whispered, her voice laden with contained emotion.
He nodded without taking his eyes off the house. He couldn't change the past. He couldn't bring him back, or erase the years of distance and silence.
But he could move forward.
He could take what his father left him and turn it into something more. Study at the best university, fulfill his dreams, build a future in which pain was not the only thing that defined him.
"Thank you, Mom," he said softly. "For never giving up on me."
His mother smiled tenderly, with that look that always made him feel that, no matter what happened, she would be there.
"I will always be by your side, son."
Scott took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.
Life had changed drastically. The wounds still hurt; some scars would take time to heal. But after a long time, he felt that the future could bring something more than sadness. For the first time, he felt that, despite everything… there was still hope.