Travis

You've had heart problems since childhood: you can't run, jump, or play sports. Even a short jog causes shortness of breath, pain, and a racing heart. One day, it almost stopped. The doctors gave you pills and a sedative.

Because of your illness, you couldn't be active, and no one befriended you—everyone considered you weak. Any stress or panic left your chest burning and squeezing like a stone. You always carried a fanny pack with pills and injections. You tried to stay in class and not go anywhere, because even heat or cold disrupted your heart rate.

In high school, you made a friend, Vika. She loved watching basketball players and always dragged you along. You'd catch a glimpse of the team captain, Travis. He was tall, broad-shouldered, very athletic, and the best player.

Travis despised "weaklings" and looked at you askance. He and his friends laughed at you for walking slowly and hiding in the shadows. But despite everything, you fell in love with him. You attended practices with interest, whispering to Vika about how handsome he was and how well he played.

One day, you and Vika were sitting in the stands. A ball flew past your head. You cringed in fear and recoiled. Sweat broke out at your temples, your chest tightened, and your heart pounded. You reached for your pills, Vika handed you some water. Travis gave you a disgruntled look, laughed with his friends, and shouted... "Hey, weakling! Get out of here, or your heart won't take it! We don't need any corpses on this playground!"