Before they could act, Sergio took off running as fast as he could, fleeing through dimly lit streets. He didn’t stop until he was sure he wasn’t being followed. Finally, he collapsed against the wall of a narrow alley, breathless.

“Not... again,” he whispered, trying not to cry.  

Exhausted, he tried to rest, but sleep eluded him. Memories of his uncle haunted him, their cruelty seeping into every corner of his mind. And his grandmother’s harsh words echoed alongside those memories.  

“You’re a spoiled brat, good for nothing. You're not even worth the food I give you. You’re just like your mother,” she would say while hitting him and punishing him unjustly.  

Sergio bit his lip to stifle his sobs. Rest was impossible, so he wandered to the entrance of a bakery, drawn by the aroma of freshly baked bread. Morning light peeked onto the streets as customers came and went, enjoying their breakfasts.  

A custodian from a nearby university noticed him lingering outside. With compassion, she offered him a piece of bread from the bag she carried. Sergio hesitated before accepting, but his hunger overriding his wariness.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, before retreating to eat. The bread felt like a lifeline, and as he devoured it, his thoughts returned to Lucas. He wondered if his childhood friend was safe, happy, and if he ever thought about him.  

Later that day, he sought shelter under the same bridge where he had contemplated ending his life. The streets offered no solutions, only hardships, but he resolved not to give up. Despite everything, he refused to sell his body for money, clinging fiercely to his dignity.  

**  

At seventeen, he found work at an illegal car repair shop. It was grueling —over twelve hours a day for meager pay— but it provided food and a roof over his head. The shop was a harsh environment, filled with humiliation and harassment, but Sergio endured it all.  

In that place, the owners and some employees trafficked drugs for distribution. But the freckled young man didn’t know that. He —along with some of his coworkers— became a sort of facade for the perverse schemes of their superiors. They were recruited off the streets, made to believe they only had to do poorly paid jobs in exchange for stability. Years later, the shop was raided by the police. Accusations flew, and despite the lack of evidence, Sergio was labeled a drug trafficker. He spent years in prison, a victim of the same broken system that had failed him before.  

After his release, finding honest work proved nearly impossible, but Sergio refused to give in. He took whatever poorly paid jobs he could find, scraping by while determinedly finishing his studies. Though life continued to test him, Sergio clung to the hope that someday, he might find a sense of peace —and perhaps, even a chance to reconnect with the friend who had once been his lifeline. 

**  

The custodial job came through a retired man Sergio had met while working as a waiter. Impressed by his determination to build a decent life, the old man helped him secure a position as someone’s replacement. Using fake documentation was a risk Sergio was prepared to take, and the man assisted him without asking for anything in return. It was a miracle.

Saint Louis University wasn’t particularly strict about hiring staff; their preference for cheap labor aligned with their policy of charging students exorbitant fees. Sergio —living under the alias “Jairo”— worked tirelessly, determined to remain unnoticed. He altered his appearance to avoid recognition, taking on tasks that would typically require two or three employees. At night, he slept in an empty classroom, and in the early hours of the morning, he used the gym showers to clean up before anyone could see him.  

Amid his struggles, he still found solace in drawing. His passion for art endured, a quiet refuge that allowed him to sketch anything that made him feel alive.  

But of all the challenges he had faced, nothing prepared him for the moment his childhood friend —the boy who had unknowingly been his first love— appeared before him in a classroom just days earlier.  

The encounter had shaken him deeply. Quitting the job wasn’t an option; he couldn’t afford to lose the fragile stability he’d fought so hard to maintain. So, Sergio resolved to pretend he was nothing more than a simple maintenance worker. He even used his right hand for tasks to avoid the left, which might stir memories of his grandmother’s relentless criticism.  

Avoiding Lucas seemed like the safest choice. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding forever. How much longer could he conceal his identity before everything unraveled?