Defender's Heartbeat 2

Chapter 12

Enzo

I still couldn't believe how Pedro pretended to care about me, only to turn around and beat me. Now, I knew he hated me just like the others. It was just their way of making fun of me—pretending to care, then hurting me. Every time I thought about it, I felt like screaming. Most days at school, I would lay my head down on the desk, even while the teachers were teaching. I was so upset and tired. My friends kept asking what was wrong, but I always told them I had a headache.

"Enzo, what's wrong?" Diego asked, gently stroking my hair. I felt like crying.

"Just a headache," I muttered.

"Man, you've had a headache for more than two days?" Noah asked, his face full of concern. I felt guilty. My friends cared about me so much more than my own brothers.

"I just had a fight with Pedro..." My voice trailed off, and I had to stop. I was on the verge of tears. Every time I thought about what Pedro did, tears welled up, and it felt like someone was squeezing my heart, suffocating me.

"Did he hit your head?" Elijah asked, probably thinking my headache was from a blow to the head.

"No," I replied. I wanted to tell them everything, but I couldn't. It would only cause more trouble. What if they tried to tell someone? What if they told their parents or a teacher?

"Then what? Why can't you just say it?" Diego pressed, his frustration growing. I stayed silent.

During the break, we went to our usual spot. I saw Diego whisper something to the others, but I didn't pay attention. Suddenly, they closed in on me. Noah and Elijah grabbed me tightly.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled, confused and panicked. They didn't let me go. I struggled as they ripped off my coat, then my shirt, exposing my body. They saw everything—the marks on my back.

"Hell no," Noah said, staring at my back in disbelief.

"We need to tell someone about this," Diego said firmly.

"No, no, Diego, no," I broke down in front of my friends for the first time. I fell to my knees and cried. "Please don't tell anyone. Please," I sobbed uncontrollably, my body shaking as the tears poured out. I cried until I felt some relief, the weight of my pain momentarily lifted. I could feel them trying to comfort me, but I was too focused on letting it all out.

"Are they always doing this to you?" Elijah asked softly. I said nothing, knowing I had already revealed too much.

"I think it's been going on for a long time," Diego said. "I told you, sometimes there's blood on his shirt."

"I thought it was from fights," Noah admitted, sounding regretful.

"No, it's not," Diego stated firmly.

After begging them for what felt like hours, my friends finally agreed not to tell anyone, though I knew they weren't happy with the decision.

Once everything settled down, we smoked a few cigarettes and had some drinks. It was quiet, but the tension still lingered in the air.

For the next two days, I barely spoke to Mia. I was still too upset. I just lay on the bench with my head in her lap. She didn't ask many questions—she knew I wouldn't answer. Instead, she stroked my hair with her soft fingers. After talking to my friends, I did feel some release, like a heavy cloud had lifted from my mind. But the shame of exposing myself to them left me feeling raw and vulnerable.

They didn't treat me any differently, but I could feel how much more concerned they were. I asked them to forget what I had told them and just act like they used to, but things weren't the same. They started caring too much.