Levi’s first weeks in juvy were a blur of gray walls, cold nights, and a heavy sadness that never seemed to lift. Every morning he woke up feeling hollow, replaying the moment Suzanne cried for him. He felt like he had thrown his life away.

And the other kids in juvy saw that weakness.

They mocked him for being quiet. They shoved him around. Sometimes they held his head down near the toilet, laughing as he struggled. Other days they pushed him to the ground or crowded around him so he couldn’t escape.

Levi cried once—just once. Alone, in the corner of his tiny room, where no one could see. But as the tears fell, a realization struck him hard:

Crying won’t change anything. If I want a different life, I have to make myself different.

From that day, something lit up inside him.

He woke up earlier than everyone else. He trained in the small courtyard—pushups, running, sit-ups, anything he could do without equipment. While others rested, he sharpened his mind, reading whatever books the juvy library allowed. Slowly, he grew stronger, more confident, more focused.

The bullies noticed.
And one day… they stopped.

Within months, Levi wasn’t the weak kid anymore. He had become the one people respected. The one no one wanted to mess with. The one even the staff said was “different from the others.”

Then, one morning, the guards brought in a new inmate.
A skinny boy, maybe a year younger than Levi. Untidy brown hair, frightened green eyes.

His name was Zeith Moore.

The moment Zeith entered the common area, the others circled him, the same way they once circled Levi. They mocked him, pushed him around, treated him like he didn’t matter.

Levi watched from across the room.

For a moment, he saw himself—small, scared, and alone.

He stood up.

“Enough,” Levi said, stepping between Zeith and the bullies. They backed off immediately. No one wanted to pick a fight with him now.

Zeith stared at him like he was looking at a superhero.
“Th-thank you…” he whispered.

Levi sighed. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You won’t survive here if you don’t change.”

From that day, Zeith followed Levi everywhere. Too closely.
If Levi trained, Zeith watched.
If Levi ate, Zeith sat next to him.
If Levi warned him to train, Zeith only nodded, waiting for Levi to step in again.

One afternoon, Levi snapped.

He pushed Zeith away—not hard, but firm enough to shock him.

“You can’t rely on me for everything,” Levi said. “People betray you, Zeith. Friends, kids you trust… even the ones who smile at you. All you really have in this world is yourself.”

Zeith looked like the words hit him harder than any punch.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded slowly, determination forming behind those green eyes.

“I’ll get stronger,” Zeith whispered. “For real this time.”

Levi crossed his arms. “Good. Start today.”

And he did.

Zeith began training every morning, sometimes stumbling, sometimes complaining, but always getting back up. Levi watched from a distance, a strange mix of pride and sadness forming in his chest.

He wasn’t just surviving juvy anymore.
He was becoming someone different.
Someone unbreakable.