“That’s for you to learn your place! Got me?” Kayle Jamerson said, while kicking Brandon, who was on the ground. Kayle bent down and grabbed the poor young man off the ground by the hair, to make him lift his head and look at him. “You answer me when I talk to you, shithead!” 

He pushed Brandon hard on the ground and motioned with his head for the others to finish the job, while he stepped aside and lit a cigarette. While the others kicked, punched and laughed at Brandon, Kayle felt his chest warmer. He hated to be second place, and if that stupid boy thught he could humiliate the great Kayle Jamerson like that, he was damn wrong!

When they were satisfied, Kayle and his gang left, laughing, while Brandon was scattered on the floor, bleeding from the cuts in his face and all his body hurt. That was not the first beating he received from Kayle and the others, but that time they hit him really badly. 

‘I have to get up…’, he told himself. And that was not just about his honor, but because he had a part-time job and, when he took a look at his wrist watch, it seemed like he was late - the device was broken after he got that beating. 

He got up, feeling as if he had been all broken. Not so far from reality, in the end. But there was no time to cry. The restaurant was nearby and he just had to walk a few blocks. Brandon got his torned backpack from the ground, put it on his bruised shoulder and dragged his ruined body to the ‘Chicken Sour&Grill’. 

“What the hell, boy?” Mr. Shelman asked, hands on his hips, while looking at his employee’s bruised face. “Look, I don’t give a damn. Go change your clothes and go to the saloon! The place is full of clients!” 

“Yes, sir.” Brandon said and even talking was painful. He went to the locker room, opened his bag, took off his uniform and changed the outfit. He took a bit longer than usual, due to the pain he was feeling. 

Brandon washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror and his appearance was dreadful. If he was a cliente, he would definitely not want to be attended by someone looking like shit. Not only looking, but feeling like shit, also. His blue eyes were now surrounded by red and purple marks. He shrugged, and after drying his face, he went to work. 

Carrying the dishes and trails was something hard to endure. But he was used to working hard. He always gave his best in everything he did. According to a friend of his, the only one he ever had, that was what made those guys bully him: envy and jealousy. 

‘You’re too smart and hardworking. Some people can’t stand it. But don’t worry, one day, things will get better’, and Brandon clinged to it. One day things had to get better. Without hope, there was no meaning in leaving. 

He was not only in pain, but also distracted and, of course, it could not be a good match. He felt a terrible pang on his wrist and next thing, the water on the trail fell on a customer. 

“What the hell? Are you crazy?” The woman said, getting up and getting the napkin and trying to dry herself. She was sitting with another woman and they were, clearly, people of an upper class. 

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He said, trying to apologize, but the blond woman cast a hateful glance at him. 

“Sorry? Sorry is not enough!” She yelled and slapped him hard across the face. “This dress costs ten thousand dollars, you idiot!” 

Mr. Shelman approached and tried to calm down the woman, sending Brandon to the back of the restaurant. He knew the woman was lying about the price of the dress. It was quite obvious, but he had to try to make amends and not disturb the client even more. 

Brandon was waiting for Mr. Shelman to talk to him. When the stocky man entered the office, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but this can’t keep going like this. You are always appearing here with cuts and bruises and it is none of my business what you do out of here, but this is interfering with your work. This is not the first time and I know it won’t be the last.” 

“Mr. Shelman, please…” Brandon tried, but the man wouldn’t listen. 

“Sorry, boy. Leave the apron here, along with the uniform, get your things and leave. Come by tomorrow to get your check.” 

Mr. Shelman glared at Brandon with his brown eyes and left the office. Brandon sighed heavily. Great, now he was jobless. Brandon worked hard, without days off, but one mistake and he was out! 

He got on a bus on his way back home and when he was turning the key on his door, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He got it and put it between his shoulder and ear. 

“Yeah?” He said, closing the door behind him and holding the phone properly. 

“Are you ready to come back to your family, Young Master?” the voice of an old man echoed on the other side of the line. 

“No. Not yet. But thanks for asking.” He ended the call and let himself fall onto the sofa. 

He wanted to fend for himself, financially. And for that, he had to work and do things his way, in his own time. And he would! 

“It’s okay, Bran. Tomorrow, you’ll get your money from the restaurant and head to university in another city. Things will be different. New place, new beginning!” 

He was going to start college and he had hopes that from that day ahead, he would be able to live differently, with better chances. No bullies. 

Smiling, he closed his eyes and slept right there, for he was too exhausted.