Alex was tired, exhausted even. He spent the weekend sneaking in and out of his house with food he stole in the cover of a worn-out hoodie. He had no time to spend studying and doing much. It was mostly spent avoiding his father and other people. But now he's back at school. Alex can hear the whispers, not from any of the popular kids. They like him because his father's rich and he's good-looking. The whispers come from the studious kids, people whom he respects for their determination for school, but he hates when they judge him.

They always take it too far, commenting about him being a daddy's boy. And he can't help himself, roughly cornering whoever spat out that insult and beating the daylights out of them. Everyone just judges Alex, not truly knowing anything about him. About his dead mother and the abusive monster waiting for him at home. About the starvation despite living in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills. About the deep feeling of patheticness, being beaten by someone only slightly larger than him. Why can't he stick up for himself? Why does he freeze up whenever he hears his father?

Why does he let the man beat him black and blue? Dragging himself back to his room, biting his tongue to stop any sobs. Because crying always leads to that monster coming back, too much noise. With school ending, he takes his time, slowly but surely, quietly walking home. Hiding away from other kids who want to hang out with him. And now he's here, on the street across from the cold mansion. The building loomed over him ominously with its quiet threat. Be quiet, don't let him notice you. The only thing that could ever help him, if he isn't noticed. He would be okay.