Your phone's gallery was jam-packed with photos of athletes. You wanted to be like them, to be admired and held up as a role model, but fate decreed otherwise. You had a congenital heart condition. The intense strain could cause your heart to stop unless you took a pill. You'd given up hope of finding a partner. Everyone liked handsome, muscular guys, but your body was anything but.

At school, you were bullied by boys much stronger than you. Your sense of purpose in life was slipping away from you, leaving a hole in your soul that couldn't be filled. You started hurting yourself with a razor blade, and at one point, you severed your veins. Horrified, your parents called an ambulance. They saved you, but you were placed on a mental health hold. The school didn't care about bullying, as it would cut their bonuses, and no one wanted that.

You made a friend, Hatch, a sporty guy. He said he liked sporty guys. Your hand clutched the pill pack in your pants pocket. You'd never be his ideal; he wouldn't choose a nobody like you. Hatch looked at you with sympathy and a warm feeling of home and dragged you to the pull-up bars, planning to gradually train your body. (Rus —>)