Eliam thought back over the hell he'd been through this past year. It was the third year Camilo Morrison had made his life miserable, and this one had been the worst by far.

Back when high school first started, Camilo had come up to him with this friendly smile, suggesting they be friends. Eliam, too naive to know better, had agreed.

The trouble started when his homework started getting mysteriously torn up, cockroaches turned up in his water bottle, and he got jumped in the bathrooms. Camilo and a couple of other guys pinned him to the cold tiled floor and yanked his hair, jeering, "You think just 'cause Luciana looked at you twice, you're suddenly something? You're not even good enough to tie her damn shoes."

His lip was split wide open, blood gushing down his chin.

Eliam went to a teacher, only to get the brush-off: "No evidence." When he turned to Luciana for help, she just frowned and said, "Camilo's not like that."

Camilo. She'd called him by his first name. Camilo. That stung more than anything.

After that, the torment got even worse.

That winter, someone soaked his school jacket in red ink and hung it way up on the flagpole. He had to stand out in the freezing wind for half the class in nothing but a thin shirt before he could find a spare. During gym, his sneakers disappeared. He had to run the half-mile barefoot. By the end, the soles of his feet were raw and bleeding. Right before exams, his study notes got ripped to shreds and tossed in the bathroom trash. He ended up on that filthy floor, trying to piece them back together.

The worst was when Camilo posted anonymously on the school forum, spreading the lie that Eliam had "slept his way to good grades." The rumor hung around for three days. Eliam couldn't escape the whispers and stares. He'd lie awake in his dorm at night, overhearing his roommates mutter, "If it's not true, why's he so defensive?"

That year, thoughts of ending it all crossed his mind more times than he could count. But he didn't go through with it. He kept clinging to those tiny scraps of kindness Luciana threw his way. They were like the thinnest threads, the only thing keeping him hanging on.

But now he saw the truth—those little kindnesses came while Luciana was already tangled up with Camilo. Even as she protected him from his drunk of a mother, she'd been busy "saving" Camilo on the side.

Eliam sank to the floor and buried his face in his knees. When his tears finally ran dry, his heart felt like a block of ice. Completely numb.

Half an hour later, he was packing up what little he had left, ready to go. Luciana was standing in the doorway, out of breath like she'd sprinted all the way there.

She grabbed Eliam's wrist, urgent. "Come with me."

The school entrance was pure chaos. In the distance, you could just make out a figure perched on the edge of the rooftop.

Luciana pulled him through the crowd, not letting go of his wrist until they got to the front.

That's when Eliam really looked at her—eyes rimmed with red, the veins stark against the whites, lips cracked and dry. The usually tough, rebellious girl looked completely wrecked.

"Eliam," her voice trembled, "I need a favor."

Eliam stayed quiet. He already knew what she was going to ask.

"Camilo… those forum posts—they're all over the school, the whole town. His reputation is destroyed, he bombed his exams, and he hasn't eaten in three days."

Luciana's frown deepened, worry swimming in her eyes. "The doctor says he's got acute stress disorder. This could destroy him."

She stepped closer, clutching Eliam's hand like it was the only thing keeping her upright. "I know he hurt you. I know everything now. But Eliam, please, can you just clear things up? Just say you didn't write those posts, and you're not going to do anything about it. So people will leave him alone. Just a few words, that's all."

Eliam looked into her eyes and saw the desperation there. It felt like his heart was being wrung out—the pain was sharp and real.

But he shook his head, firm and resolute. "No."

Luciana's face went blank with shock, then panic flickered in her eyes. She tightened her hold, her voice climbing with desperation, "Why not? It's just a few words! He's not even in your life anymore…"

"He bullied me for three years," Eliam cut in, his voice shaking. "He poured ink on my jacket, lied about me online, cornered me in bathrooms and beat the crap out of me… And now you want me to clear his name? Clear what? That none of it happened?"

From the rooftop, a shriek cut through the air. Someone yelled, "He's gonna jump!"

Luciana whipped around, all color draining from her face.

"Eliam, even if he was wrong," she begged, her lips trembling, "he's paid for it. He flunked his exams, he's falling apart, he's about to jump. Please, just let it go this once. I'm begging you. Just… spare him."

Spare him.

Tears spilled down Eliam's cheeks, catching him off guard.

When he was bullied, who spared him? When he was driven to the edge, who spoke up for him?

He yanked his hand back, his voice cracking. "No. I said no."

Luciana's expression shifted. She slowly released his hand and stepped away.

Then she reached up and unclasped the necklace she always wore. Eliam's eyes went wide with shock.