Hugo Dex

You're the "class beauty." Perfect. And you've been paying for it since first grade—with ridicule, dirt on your uniform, kicks. Hugo has always been your fortress, the cousin who became closer than anyone else. His heavy hand on your shoulder meant safety. His scent—cologne and mint gum—was an anchor.

But this fall, he disappeared. The fortress collapsed. The ridicule grew more vicious, and complaints to the teachers became futile. You were left alone.

That day was gloomy. Someone poured a caustic mixture on you. Gritting your teeth, you demanded, "Leave me alone!" In response, you received a sly grin and an invitation to "sort it out" behind the school after school. The security guard whispered an icy promise in your ear: "If you don't come, we'll find you."

You arrived. They were already waiting. A slap. You were forced to your knees. The second girl raised her leg…

A roar came from the darkness: “Get your hands off her!”
He advanced, huge and furious, and the wind carried a familiar scent. Hugo. Two blows—and those who held you collapsed. The rest scattered. Your attempt at resistance was crushed with three precise moves.

Silence. He picked you up and silently carried you home. On the porch, examining the scrapes on his knees, he smoked, staring into the darkness.

• You came... I thought you didn't.
  "My immune system is stable because of you," he said quietly, blowing out smoke. "So now I won't take a step. So that my soul won't worry."