Chapter 2
Frank, a middle-aged man in his forties, was giving a hard time to a middle school girl.
He threatened Sophie, forbidding her from wearing skirts or talking to Toby.
Sophie agreed.
But Toby wouldn't have it.
Frank and his buddies threatened Sophie, but Toby took it even further, cursing her out and hitting her.
In that dark, reeking alley, Sophie's white dress got all dirty.
Toby grinned, stomping on what he couldn't get, grinding it into the ground.
Kids' cruelty was always the most real.
We called the cops, and my wife, Nydia, flew straight back from out of town.
Nydia looked at me, her eyes full of blame, but even more of grievance.
She hugged me, sobbing uncontrollably.
Sophie was rushed to the hospital. The doctor said she was physically okay, but she was definitely traumatized.
I already struggled with mental health, so it probably ran in the family.
The police told us there wasn't enough evidence to file a case.
There were no cameras at the scene, so the only clues would have to come from Sophie herself.
She was still lying in the hospital, and trying to get evidence from her now could put her through more pain.
The real kicker was that Toby was still under fourteen.
So even if they had all the proof and caught him red-handed, it'd be almost impossible to charge him.
The police called both families in for mediation.
Linda was back to her usual nasty self, mouthing off.
She said, "Toby would never do something like that. He's only thirteen, officer. We've always brought him up properly.
"But those parents over there? They let their kid dress like a prostitute. No wonder she got targeted by those punks.
"And now they're trying to pin it on Toby? They should take a good look at themselves first. Pathetic."
Nydia's hand was digging into my thigh so hard that I almost started bleeding.
She was burning with hatred and anger, but what really terrified her was that I might snap and do something reckless.
I had bipolar disorder, so it'd be easier for me to get furious and extreme than normal people.
I had gotten a lot better over the years.
But right now, all that filled my mind was the image of that bitch lying dead.
I was so furious that I wanted to rip her apart, tear out her bones, and make them into dominoes for that brat Toby to play with.
Somehow, I found myself shaking Linda's hand.
The cops swore they wouldn't stop until they nailed the culprit.
Toby, that little punk, was hiding behind his parents, flipping me off and spitting at me.
He even gave me a sleazy grin and pointed at his crotch.
I lunged at him at once, and the two cops couldn't hold me back.
Just as my foot was about to crash down on Toby's head, Nydia shouted, "Victor, that's enough! Let's go home."
I held back.
Yeah, what was the point? That would only make the people who cared about me even more miserable.
After we left the police station, Frank came up to me.
He handed me a cigarette, slung his arm around my shoulder like we were old buddies, and leaned in to whisper.
He said, "Dude, let this be a lesson. I'll give you 30 grand. Don't drag this out. It's pointless, you get it?
"But if you really want to keep pushing, well, your wife's still pretty damn attractive, isn't she?"
My eyes went bloodshot, my heart was roaring in my ears, and there was only one thing on my mind.
A voice roared inwardly, 'Kill him.'
"Victor, that's enough. Let's go home," Nydia said, pulling me back. Her icy grip jolted me back to reality.
Frank grinned, flashing a couple of gold teeth.
He said, "Good. This beauty's got some sense."
"Shut up, you piece of shit," Nydia snapped.
Frank's face instantly darkened.
Behind Frank, Linda was dragging Toby along, pointing at us and talking to him.
From the way her lips moved, I could tell she was saying, "You did well, but from now on, you need to focus on your studies, okay? Don't end up like them."
The little punk Toby was all smiles, like he was still savoring what happened that afternoon.
The three of them strolled off together, looking like one big happy family, as if nothing had ever happened.
Nydia and I were about to go to the hospital to see Sophie.
Those bastards got to walk away as one big happy family, while ours was left shattered.
At the hospital, Sophie was still unconscious.
The doctor said it wasn't a physical problem. It was all because of the stress.
She kept having nightmares, calling out "No" with tears streaming down her face even as she slept.
I popped half a bottle of sedatives at once, but I still couldn't calm down.
That night, Sophie's wound reopened. She kept clawing at it in her sleep, like she couldn't stop herself.
Nydia came out looking like a ghost, all the color drained from her face.
She'd hit rock bottom, clutching my hand. She had no more tears, but the pain was so bad that she was dry heaving.
Nydia said, "Honey, if you're going to do it, make sure you leave no trace. I can't take this lying down, I really can't."
I nodded.
She said, "I'll be waiting for you to come back."
"Sure," I said.