He wasn’t stupid.

He could see the mocking faces, he could hear the nasty comments, he could feel the judgmental stares. But of course no one knew that, or they just didn’t care.

Every day at this college was a living hell, but it was a necessary hell. He strived to be the best and he didn’t get this far just to give up. His drive used to be the fight for his parents’ approval, but somewhere along the way, it had changed.

He was doing this for himself now. He could quite frankly, at this point, not care at all about what his parents wanted. They had done nothing but push and try to morph him into the perfect offspring.

The transition from high school to college was just like climbing out of one hell and right into another. From his parents’ constant nagging to the extreme stress he suffered at school, his life was basically a giant mess.

But then he witnessed the murder. The blood was everywhere, and he could only stare shocked at the white lines that marked his Bryon’s final moments of life. He tried to move on, and he tried to forget, but he couldn’t.

The murderer was never found, and his only friend was never dealt justice.

The police force on duty that day was useless. They didn’t care about some no-name college student, an insignificant case in a sea of violence. So he was finally motivated; he finally knew what he was going to do with his life.

From there events transpired that completely changed who and what he considered himself to be. But one thing was still the same, one goal unchanged.

He strived to be the best, and he was going to chase that dream until his legs gave out.