Prologue
He stood on the edge of the rooftop, the night air piercing his emaciated body like thousands of thin needles. The wind tore at his overgrown hair, tangling it across a face wet with tears. Logan stared straight ahead, his gaze empty, as if the city sprawling beneath him were nothing more than a blurred stain of lights—something that no longer held any meaning.
He was too tall.
Too thin.
Too quiet.
At least that was what they said—even if not always out loud.
His long limbs made him look awkward, as though he did not quite belong in his own body. His glasses slipped down his nose, and he did not bother to push them back up. Why should he, when no one ever looked at him like a human being? More like something unnecessary. Something that merely took up space.
Tears slid silently down his cheeks, one after another, heavy with shame and pain. He thought of the school hallways, of the laughter that always fell silent when he approached—or, just as often, burst out even louder, fed by his presence. Of the looks filled with contempt, the whispers behind his back, the words that sank into his mind deeper than any physical blow ever could.
He thought of them.
Of the popular, beautiful, wealthy students for whom life was an endless game. Of those to whom everything came easily—friendships, love, money, admiration. They looked down on the world from above, just as he now looked down from the roof… with one crucial difference: they had always had solid ground beneath their feet.
He did not.
To them, he was nothing more than another worm—something that could be crushed without consequence. Someone whose humiliation did not matter. Whose tears meant nothing to anyone. After all, there were many like him—quiet, invisible, easy to break.
He shuddered as distant laughter drifted up from the street below. Someone else’s happiness. Someone else’s life, moving forward as if he had never existed at all.
Logan tightened his fingers around the cold metal of the railing. His heart hammered in his chest, and in his mind there was only one thought—that the world would be simpler, lighter, better… without him.
Because no one had ever taught him how to fight. No one had ever told him that his pain mattered. No one had reached out a hand.
And the night was quiet.
Far too quiet.
