Chapter 17: The First Ember
---
A Morning Unlike the Rest
Morning arrives, but the sunlight feels pale, weak against the lingering cold inside me.
Yet, something is different.
There's no familiar emptiness, no automatic retreat into numbness.
Instead—a flicker of something new.
A quiet defiance, faint but undeniable.
Yesterday is still there.
The bruises. The humiliation. The weight of it all.
But today…
Today, it doesn't feel as heavy.
I sit up, rolling my shoulders, wincing slightly as the soreness reminds me of the day before.
I touch my ribs lightly. They still ache.
But pain means I'm still here.
I take a slow breath.
And if I'm still here…
Then I have a choice.
---
The Ritual of Readiness
I go through my morning routine mechanically.
Shower. Dress.
A quick glance at my reflection.
The bruises linger, dark smudges against my skin. But there's something else, too.
A glint in my eyes.
Steely. Unyielding.
I stare at my reflection a little longer than usual.
This face… it's still mine.
Even after everything.
I press my fingertips against the mirror, tracing the sharp edge of my jaw, the tired black eyes staring back at me.
What are you waiting for?
I don't dwell on the thought.
I just move.
---
The Gym – A Temporary Escape
The gym is silent at this hour, the air thick with the scent of iron and sweat.
I step onto the mats, the cold grip of the weights grounding me.
The first rep is slow, deliberate.
Then another.
And another.
Until my body is burning, my muscles aching in a way that feels real.
The sweat stings my eyes, but I welcome it.
It washes away the residue of yesterday.
It reminds me—
I am not weak.
Not in the way they want me to be.
I adjust my grip on the bar, my breath controlled, steady.
Jason and his group—
Their laughter.
Their fists.
The way they walked away like I was nothing.
I tighten my grip.
Never again.
I push through another rep, feeling the fire in my muscles, the exhaustion in my bones.
And for the first time in days—
It doesn't feel like I'm drowning.
---
The Comfort of Home
I return home to the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
For the first time in days, the simple warmth of it soothes me.
Mom glances up as I walk into the kitchen. "You're up early."
I nod. "Gym."
Mark raises an eyebrow, studying me. "Didn't hear you leave."
I shrug, pouring myself a cup. "Didn't want to wake anyone."
Something flickers in his expression, but he doesn't push.
Lily, oblivious to the tension, chatters away about her day.
"And then, I totally crushed Brian in chess club. He thought he had me, but boom—checkmate." She grins proudly. "You'd be proud, Derrick."
I smirk. "You sure you didn't cheat?"
She gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. "How dare you. I'm a genius, thank you very much."
For the first time in days—
I laugh.
It's small. Fleeting.
But real.
The weight of silence at the table doesn't feel suffocating.
It just is.
And for now, that's enough.
---
A Different Kind of Walk
The walk to school feels lighter.
The dread is still there—a shadow at the edges of my awareness.
But it no longer chokes me.
Today is different.
I feel it.
In the steadier gait.
In the way my shoulders don't hunch forward.
In the quiet determination hardening inside me.
I pass by familiar streets, the usual sights and sounds of the city blending into background noise.
But inside me—
There's something else.
Something new.
A quiet voice that whispers—
You're not done yet.
---
A New Challenge
The school looms ahead.
No longer just a place of humiliation.
Now—a challenge.
A place I refuse to keep running from.
I step through the gates, my heartbeat steady.
The eyes are still there. The whispers. The curious glances.
But they don't weigh me down the way they used to.
I catch a few murmurs—
"Did you hear what happened to Steins yesterday?"
"Jason really messed him up."
"He actually came back?"
I don't flinch.
I don't shrink away.
I just keep walking.
And then—
A voice cuts through the noise.
"Derrick!"
Serena.
She stands near the entrance, her emerald eyes locking onto mine.
Relief flickers across her face.
"You okay?" she asks, stepping closer.
I exhale, tilting my head slightly. "Define okay."
Her lips press into a thin line. "You should've told me."
There's no pity in her voice. Just frustration. Concern.
I glance at the people around us, their eyes watching. Judging.
But I don't care.
Not today.
"I'm fine," I say, and for once—
I almost believe it.
Serena doesn't look convinced, but she nods anyway.
Then—
"Walk with me?"
A simple request.
One I don't hesitate to accept.
And as we move forward, side by side—
I make a silent promise to myself.
Whatever comes next—
I will not break.