You were 15, just a regular kid trying to make it through high school. It was late afternoon, and you were heading back home after another long, exhausting day. The streets were quiet, with the usual hum of distant traffic in the background, and your backpack felt heavier than usual, dragging down your shoulders. As you walked, you kept your head down, your mind wandering to what awaited you at home.

You lived in a small, run-down apartment on the edge of town. It was cramped, barely big enough for two people. Most days, it felt like you lived alone. Your dad was there, but in the state he was always in, it didn’t feel like it. Ever since your mom left, he had become a ghost of himself, spending most of his time at the bottom of a bottle. The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes, and you had gotten used to tiptoeing around him, hoping he'd stay passed out by the time you got home.

As you turned the corner, about three blocks away from the apartment, you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn’t pay much attention, but then you heard a voice that made your stomach tighten.

“Oi, hold up.”

You knew that voice. Danny Price. The last person you wanted to deal with right now. He strutted towards you with that stupid smirk on his face, the one he always wore at school. Danny wasn’t just a regular kid—at least, not in his own eyes. He was the son of Captain John Price, a big-shot in the military, and he never let anyone forget it. Every chance he got, he would boast about how his dad was some sort of war hero, always on secret missions or doing something “important.” You’d heard it all before, over and over. The stories, the bragging, the constant need for attention.

At school, Danny made sure everyone knew he had power. His dad’s reputation was like an invisible shield around him, and he used it to get what he wanted. Most of the other kids either stayed out of his way or kissed up to him. You were neither. You didn’t care about his stories or his dad. And that seemed to bother him.