Safe Hands

46. EVIDENCES

Julian sat on his bed, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his face as he scrolled through the WhatsApp chat group. The group, named Anti-Bullying and Equal Justice, was buzzing with activity. What had started as a small group chat between him, Milo, and Savanna had grown. Surprisingly, Maya and Phoebe had joined the cause, even though they had initially refused to help. It seemed that once they saw the videos Savanna had uploaded, things started to shift.

The videos weren't perfect—they were shaky, the sound was often muffled, and the footage was filled with the chaotic noise of a school hallway—but they were enough. Enough to show the world that Grayson wasn't just some violent delinquent; he was a boy pushed to his limits by someone who had decided to make him a target.

Julian's fingers flew over the screen as he typed a response to Savanna's latest message. They were discussing how to use the videos as evidence to present to the school board. Julian felt a surge of hope as he read through the messages, each one filled with ideas and strategies to help Grayson. For the first time, it felt like they might actually have a chance.

As he was about to hit send, the door to his room creaked open. Julian glanced up, expecting to see Russell or maybe Damien checking in on him, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw Grayson standing in the doorway.

Grayson's expression was blank, but the way his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie gave away his unease. Julian's heart sank as he realized that Grayson might have overheard some of the conversation.

"What do you want?" Julian asked, trying to sound indifferent, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

Grayson didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked over to one of the shelves in the room, picking up a small trophy that Julian had won in a school debate competition. He turned it over in his hands, his eyes distant. "Did you manage to survive school today?" he finally asked, his voice almost casual, but with a hint of something deeper, something that Julian couldn't quite place.

Julian was taken back by the question. It wasn't like Grayson to ask something like that. "None of your business," he replied, trying to keep up the tough act. He wasn't sure what game Grayson was playing, but he wasn't about to let his guard down.

Grayson sighed softly, putting the trophy back in its place before turning to face Julian. "About yesterday," he began, his voice low and hesitant, "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just... I want you to focus on yourself. Worrying about me will only make you grow gray hair faster. Because you always worried, like your dad."

Julian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the joke, though he quickly tried to cover it up by resuming his frown. "You're too much trouble, you know that?" Julian said, his voice tinged with frustration. "But I'm not giving up on you. No matter how much you push me away."

Grayson's expression faltered for a moment, his eyes flickering with an emotion that Julian couldn't quite identify. "Even if you try today, tomorrow something else will come up," Grayson muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's what mistakes do. They create other mistakes."

Julian's heart clenched at those words, realizing that Grayson was echoing something he must have heard before. "Mistake can be corrected, Grayson," Julian said firmly interpreting it as it sounded. "And even if can't, I'd still try. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here for you, whether you like it or not."

Grayson shrugged one shoulder averting his gaze, his hands retreating back into his hoodie pockets. Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Julian alone once again.

Julian sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He knew that Grayson's cold exterior was a defense mechanism, a way to keep people from getting too close. But it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Grayson was a puzzle, and Julian was determined to figure him out, piece by piece.

*****

Later that evening, after dinner, Julian decided to head to Russell's room. Damien had asked him to remind Russell to text Aunt Lauren some website link, and Julian figured he might as well do it now. When he entered the room, it was empty, but Russell's gaming PC was still on, its bright screen casting an eerie glow in the dark room.

"Probably in the bathroom," Julian muttered to himself as he plopped down in Russell's gamer chair. He reached for Russell's phone, which was lying on the desk, and unlocked it to take a selfie. Making a scary face, Julian snapped a few pictures, laughing quietly to himself.

He was about to put the phone down when something caught his eye. There was a video in the gallery that looked unfamiliar. Curiosity getting the better of him, Julian tapped on the video and hit play.

The footage was crystal clear, capturing the moment when Grayson had been slammed onto the table during the fight. Julian's heart raced as he watched, the scene replaying in his mind. He recognized every moment, every movement, but there was something different about seeing it from this angle. It was like reliving the nightmare all over again, but this time with a new perspective.

And then, towards the end of the video, something caught his eye. After Grayson had landed on the ground, Miles had made a movement, pulling something out of his pocket. Julian's breath hitched as he rewound the video, watching the moment in slow motion. There it was—a metallic object glinting in the light as Miles pulled it out.

A penknife.

Julian's hands began to tremble as the realization hit him. Miles had a weapon. Grayson hadn't just retaliated out of anger—he was defending himself maybe. The chair, the aggression—it all made sense now. Grayson had seen the knife, and in that split second, he had done what he had to do to protect himself.

Julian quickly forwarded the video to himself, deleting the evidence from Russell's phone just as the bathroom door creaked open. He jumped, nearly dropping the phone as Russell stepped into the room.

Russell's eyes narrowed as he spotted Julian sitting in his chair. "What are you doing in here?"

Julian quickly got up, handing the phone back to Russell. "Damien wanted you to text Aunt Lauren some website link," he said, trying to sound casual.

Russell nodded, grabbing his controller and sitting down at his desk. "Thanks."

Julian hesitated, feeling a strange sense of unease. "I should go," he mumbled, turning to leave.

"Hey," Russell called after him, "you want to play?"

Julian shook his head. "No," he replied, hurrying out of the room before Russell could ask any more questions.

********

Back in his room, Julian shut the door behind him, his heart still pounding in his chest. He quickly pulled out his phone and opened the video, watching it again to make sure he hadn't imagined it. There it was, clear as day—Miles had pulled out a penknife, and Grayson had reacted in self-defense.

Julian's hands were shaking as he forwarded the video to the WhatsApp group, along with a series of screenshots highlighting the moment when Miles had pulled out the weapon. Within seconds, the chat exploded with notifications, gasping emojis, and shocked reactions flooding in.

Savanna: OMG!!! That changes everything!!

Milo: Dang, this is huge! We have to show this to the school board!

Maya: No way they can expel Grayson now!

Phoebe: Miles was the one with the weapon! Grayson was just defending himself!

Julian stared at the messages, a mix of relief and fear swirling in his chest. They finally had the proof they needed, the evidence that could clear Grayson's name. But what would happen next? Would the school believe them? Would Miles try to retaliate? The possibilities were endless, and the thought of it all made Julian's stomach churn.

But one thing was clear—Grayson wasn't alone in this anymore. They had the evidence, they had the truth, and now they had a fighting chance. Julian just hoped that it would be enough to save Grayson from the fate that had seemed inevitable.

As he stared at the screen, a single thought crossed his mind: We're not done yet. Not by a long shot.

A/N

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