God’s Gonna Cut You Down

— Preview Chapters

1. It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie

Diego’s feet tangled and he crashed to the station’s deck, scraping his palms raw. Evacuees shoved past in blind panic, desperate to escape the extra-dimensional horror that had shuddered in from beyond time and space. His mother stepped forward to shield him, arms spread wide, her voice cracking as she shouted, “Run!”

Unbearable light flooded the corridor in oscillating colors that held no meaning. Colors that didn’t belong in the world Diego knew. His stomach twisted and churned. The space station’s walls, the floor—his mother’s silhouette—all flared and faded in sickening waves that bent the edges of reality. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright on wobbly legs.

“Come on, Maria!” his father yelled, grabbing her arm.

But it was too late.

Pins of searing light lanced from the Kraal, striking his parents. Their bodies dissolved into pulsating, orange matter, the edges blackening and curling into vaporous ash. The air carried the last remnants away, leaving only their clothes in a lifeless pile on the ground.

Diego couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His mind screamed at him to move. To run. But his body remained frozen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t comprehend the Kraal’s shape. Its shifting form and tendrils of light stretching from every corner defied all reason.

His heart beat once. Deafening. And then the Kraal’s mind seared into his skull. He doubled over, retching, and his legs gave out. The world tilted, and he collapsed into darkness.

***

Diego came to with a jolt. Blaring alarms cut through the fog in his mind. Red emergency lights pulsed overhead, sending flashes of color across the corridor.

He coughed and spat, wiping his mouth, bile burning his throat. Pushing up on shaky arms, he avoided the mess he’d made and staggered to his feet.

The Kraal was gone, the hallway empty. His parents’ clothes lingered in piles where they’d last stood.

The deck shuddered, sending him stumbling into the wall. A distant roar rattled Serenity Orbital’s structure from an explosion somewhere deep in Charlie Ring.

Diego ran, legs unsteady, his breath ragged. A primal instinct to survive drove him toward the crowded Serenity Link Transit station. There, bodies crushed in from all sides, everyone shoving and clawing for space as they waited for the next Pod to arrive. The Link system was their lifeline—an elevator-like transport capable of moving in any direction through the station’s five rings, from Alpha to Echo.

Diego pushed through the crowd, knowing he’d be left behind if he didn’t. The deck jolted, drawing a scatter of screams from the packed transit station. A chime played, followed by a robotic voice crackling over the public address system. “Please allow passengers to exit the Pod before boarding.”

Doors opened, and Diego moved with the surging throng. His smaller frame helped him when everyone pressed into the cramped Link Pod. Ducking under an outstretched arm, he squeezed through the narrow gap and stumbled inside, only moments before the door hissed shut.

It was crammed beyond capacity, holding twice, perhaps three times the number it was designed for. The air hung thick with fear and the sour tang of sweat. People gasped to catch their breath and quietly muttered to each other. In contrast to the chaos and horrors they had barely escaped, The Ink Spots’ tune “It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie” played softly overhead.

Diego rubbed his scraped palms as he scanned the faces around him. His stomach lurched—not from the Pod’s motion but from the familiar face glaring at him through the crowd.

Raphael.

Of all people, it had to be Raphael.

Their eyes locked, and his expression twisted into a scowl of open contempt. Leaning toward his parents, Raphael muttered something, and both adults turned his way.

Diego’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, hands curling into fists. Glancing around, he hoped for an ally but only saw eyes narrowing in recognition. Low whispers rippled through the Pod filled with sharp words: “Is that him?” “He did it.”

The passengers shifted—subtly but deliberately—until a small bubble of space formed around him. Maybe just an inch or two, but it was there. In a habitual gesture he’d developed to hide his disfigured face, Diego tugged his hair forward and stared at the floor. His heart pounded. A cold knot tightened in his chest.

Accusations had shadowed Diego for all of his thirteen years. Claims that he was a growler—one of the twisted, mutated abominations born from the void storms. The walking dead that had once been human. Everyone believed he was some kind of void terror, capable of speaking with the growlers. Others whispered that he was something far darker, claiming he could commune with the eldritch Kraal.

But Diego’s scars weren’t from any void storm. He was born with the mottled patterns twisting across his face and arm. Worse yet, his left eye was entirely black and held sparks of purple with an unsettling violet shimmer that only deepened their fear.

His parents had always denied the accusations, but the rumors weren’t entirely without merit. Diego had a gift, one his mother called tu sentido dotado. By stretching his senses, he could detect the void terrors lurking nearby and even nudge them away. He could also use that same gift to vanish from their awareness—they didn’t even register he was there. His father had found this fascinating and dubbed it “masking.”

Over time, Diego refined this technique and even figured out how to extend it to others. Despite being shunned, he’d secretly been their guardian, keeping the void terrors on the space station at bay whenever he could.

But he couldn’t stop this last Kraal attack.

They first appeared nearly twenty years ago, emerging from beyond the universe in an event known as the Arrival. Their coming shattered intergalactic society, leaving only scattered survivors clinging to life across the ruined worlds—including those aboard Serenity Orbital-1. Once a bustling transit hub above Arcadia, Serenity had remained free of the Kraal for decades… until now.

The Pod moved through the troubled space station, heading toward Bravo Ring.

Diego clenched his jaw, trying to still the tremble in his chin as images of that moment burned through his mind.

His mom. His Dad. Standing there one moment. And then… and then… No—he couldn’t even think about it.

A numbing wail tightened in his chest. The loss crushed in on him with the pressure of a collapsing star. His heart thudded slow and heavy, every beat an aching toll as he struggled to face what had just happened.

They were gone.

And he couldn’t stop it.

He fought to keep the hot tears from falling as his throat tightened.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Diego clenched his eyes shut, desperate to shift his thoughts. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of Donna’s scarf. He had spent the entire morning clutching it, his emotions tumbling in free fall as he rehearsed the words he’d wanted to say to her until he’d finally mustered the courage.

But his resolve had shattered the moment he saw her in the plaza with her friends. He had lingered to the side, clenching the scarf, suddenly unable to approach her. Shame and self-loathing had twisted in his chest, sending a storm of emotions surging through him.

It was one thing for Donna to be friendly to a freak like him in private, but in front of others? And to be sweet with him? What was he even thinking?

The Pod lurched, its doors hissing open. A chaos of noise crashed over them. The transit terminal outside churned as survivors flooded in from Pod after Pod.

Bravo Ring.

His parents had often voiced concerns about the zealous religious group controlling this ring of the station. They didn’t trust La Familia’s prophet and leader. Diego could still hear his father’s soft voice, now firm with conviction: “Beware of a man who promises salvation yet demands everything for himself. Carlos twists the words of the good book, using people’s faith against them, erasing who they are until they believe his way is the only way. Anyone who questions him disappears. That’s not a prophet, Diego. That’s a tyrant.”

Carlos’s flock now scrambled to impose order on the crush of evacuees. Much like on Charlie Ring, traces of Serenity’s old Art Deco grandeur remained. Decorative columns adorned with boxy patterns that made great handholds were even the same—columns he had once scaled, earning him a stern reprimand from a patrol bot.

Though here, unlike at Charlie Ring, La Familia had left its mark. Religious iconography dominated the space. Shrines to various saints filled niches around the walls. Each was elaborately adorned, showcasing hand-painted images lit by the soft flicker of candlelight, which left a faint scent of melted wax and incense in the air.

Men in drab jumpsuits worked alongside women in equally plain dresses, shouting instructions and guiding the evacuees into queues. Others sat behind makeshift desks, scribbling notes or typing commands into green-lit terminals.

Diego stepped out of the Pod with the other evacuees, hoping to disappear into the flood of people. Edging toward a far corner, he wondered how long it would be until he could return home when a sharp voice called out.

“You! Boy!” A stern-faced man barked, pointing at a freshly set-up table where a new line was forming. “Over there!”

Diego froze, heart pounding. On instinct, he reached for the gift he loathed, thinking he could use his masking and slip away—but the thought of becoming the very thing they feared twisted in his gut, stopping him cold. He never wanted to use it again. Not here. Not ever.

Obeying the direction, he shuffled into the line, hoping to avoid attention. When his turn finally came, he approached a woman seated at the table, keeping his head down and letting his bangs fall over his face.

“Name?” she snapped, then quickly added with a scolding tone, “Did nobody teach you to look up when speaking to your elders?”

Diego reluctantly straightened. The woman’s eyes widened, and she let out a startled sound, fear flickering across her expression.

“N-Name?” she repeated, her tone thinner than before.

“Diego.” His voice cracked, as it had done more often lately. He clenched his fists, praying this would end quickly. The last thing he needed was a scene.

She glanced around the room. “And your parents?”

The question came as a punch to the gut. Diego’s throat tightened, the words of an answer refusing to form.

The woman’s pen hovered mid-air, her brow furrowing. “Well?”

Diego shook his head, lips pinched tight. His vision blurred, and he knuckled his eyes.

“Hold that boy!” a voice bellowed.

The plaza stilled as heads turned toward the shout. The crowd parted, revealing an immaculately dressed man in a tailored blue suit striding forward.

Alcalde Carlos Garcia.

Deep lines etched the man’s sienna-toned face, giving him the look of someone who had faced a long and hard life. His cold, unsettling eyes demanded attention. Long, gray hair flowed down his back, and a silver mustache, twisted into perfect handlebars, adorned his upper lip. The whole image was one of wisdom—but it wasn’t a comforting aura.

At his side, Raphael’s father jabbed a finger toward Diego.

“That’s him!” he shouted. “He’s the one who called in the Kraal! He’s a growler!”

All eyes turned on Diego, the weight of their stares a cold knife twisting in his gut. Accusations swept outward, driven by a need to find a scapegoat for the horror that had descended on them.

“He brought it here!”

“It’s all his fault!”

Diego wanted to protest, to shout a denial—but he knew he only had moments to act. He lunged for the folding table, papers scattering as he climbed onto it. The woman screamed and stumbled back.

Hands clawed at his clothes as he gripped the column and scrambled upward, slipping free. At the top, he swung a leg over the railing and rolled onto the balcony, ignoring the cries for his capture.

His eyes darted around, heart pounding, searching for an escape. Fabric rolls and weaving frames littered the space. There—an archway at the far end.

Diego bolted for it, veering to pull a fire alarm at the last second. Sirens blared, red lights flashed overhead, and a bulkhead door began to drop in the archway—exactly what he’d hoped for.

Shouts rang out as members of La Familia rounded the corner and spotted him.

He sprinted for the narrowing gap and dove under the door, sealing his pursuers behind. The fire alarms still blared, and he kept running.

Serenity stretched endlessly ahead, a relic of the Union of Stars’ golden age. It had once hosted tens of thousands, but now sheltered only a few hundred. Surely, somewhere within its maze of empty corridors, he could disappear.

He ventured deeper, the knot between his shoulders tightening. Serenity’s rings had started as identical in design, but decades of modification had given each a distinct personality. So, while Bravo Ring’s halls echoed the familiar layout of Charlie Ring, the subtle differences only put Diego on edge.

Memories of Miguel’s hideout in an abandoned cargo bay on Charlie Ring lingered in his mind. And he hoped that maybe, in some forgotten corner of this ring, he could carve out something of his own.

2. He’ll Have to Go

After more than a day of running and hiding, Diego had reached his limit. He wedged himself behind a support beam, legs trembling as he pushed into the narrow space. Each breath came ragged and uneven, and his limbs weighed heavily, refusing to move—he had nothing left to give.

Each time he thought he’d found a safe place to rest, the distant echoes of his pursuers’ voices drove him to take flight again. He just couldn’t hide from all the cameras. Food and sleep were distant memories. His pounding head was a reminder he had overused his gift. He wouldn’t be able to mask himself again anytime soon—not even if his life depended on it. Footsteps echoed along the corridor, growing louder with each beat of his heart.

Serenity was the only home he’d ever known. Orbiting high above Arcadia, Diego had often gazed down at the planet, imagining what life on the surface might be like. The adults always warned that Arcadia was a far worse place to be than the station. That it was a hostile world plagued by void storms, with savage raiders and abominations prowling its wastelands.

But now, with exhaustion gnawing at him, he wondered if it would be easier to disappear down there than up here.

“There he is!” came a shout, followed by a flashlight sweeping into the corner. Diego lifted his arm to shield his face, blinking against the glare.

“Bring him to the lift,” one of them directed. “We’ll send him down immediately,”.

Rough hands grabbed his arms, yanking him upright. His thoughts spiraled. Down? Down where?

An announcement crackled over the station’s intercom. “He has been captured.”

The cold words wallowed in Diego’s gut as they dragged him to the central plaza. A crowd had gathered. Diego’s gaze darted across each person, searching desperately for Donna, but found only glares.

She has to be here. She has to be alive.

There—a friendly face. Miguel stood near the front. Relief flickered in Diego’s chest, but it was snuffed out just as quickly when Miguel’s eyes darted away without meeting his gaze. The gesture cut deeply.

There was no one to defend him.

No one gathered here would even dare. Their judgment weighed on him. He could see it in their eyes—there were no looks of compassion. No doubts about his guilt. They had already decided his fate. They weren’t here for justice. They were here for punishment. To watch “the boy who had summoned the Kraal destroyer” get what he deserved.

Anger simmered among them, a volatility on the edge of exploding. Jeers erupted—“Monster!” “Murderer!”—and small objects began to fly: a crumpled scrap of paper, a discarded cup, bits of old food. A spanner clanged loudly as it landed near his feet, making him jump.

Alcalde Carlos stepped forward, a rosary dangling from one hand. He raised his arm high, and the crowd stilled. The devotion etched into their faces made it clear how deeply his influence ran. In a matter of days, he had consolidated control over all of Serenity Orbital, and now La Familia’s compound was the station’s seat of power.

Standing next to Carlos, Diego looked utterly ragged. His standard-issue blue jumpsuit was smudged, rumpled, and torn after days of fleeing and hiding.

“You are banished to the lower rings,” Carlos’s gravelly voice resonated across the plaza.

Diego’s breath hitched. The crowd, the noise, the scowling faces—they all blurred into a distant hum as the sentence sank in. The lower rings? They were off-limits—a death sentence for anyone sent there.

Carlos held out a kitchen knife barely four inches long. “Take this for your protection, son,” he said. “Your fate is in God’s hands. Find and destroy the Kraal. I’ve received a revelation that you can do this for us. We believe in you.”

Diego stared at the knife. The gesture, the sentence—it was all too much. Slowly, mechanically, he reached out to take the cold Bakelite handle, glancing back to the crowd, hoping for at least one sympathetic face.

Miguel wasn’t there. Hiding or he left—it didn’t matter anymore.

Carlos clamped a heavy hand on Diego’s shoulder, leaning close as he whispered, “We don’t need you going full-on growler, my boy, so it’s best you use this to finish things quickly.” His breath was hot against Diego’s ear as he added, “Do the honorable thing, you hear me?”

The words slithered into Diego’s mind, burrowing deeper until he grasped their real meaning, and his stomach churned in a cold, unsettling disbelief. Surely, Carlos wasn’t suggesting he should end himself, was he?

The lower rings—God help him—were overrun with growlers and abominations. This small knife would be of no help against them, so what else could it be for? It was a joke… It had to be, right?

Carlos straightened and adjusted Diego’s collar with fatherly care. For one fleeting moment, Diego dared to hope this was some twisted ruse, that Carlos might send him to the brig instead. But then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he snatched Diego’s passkey.

Diego’s heart lurched, and he lunged for the card. But Carlos moved with surprising speed, slipping the passkey into his pocket with an infuriating smirk. Diego’s fate was sealed without it—he’d be locked out of nearly every part of the station. He’d be lucky to survive a day.

A seething storm of anger, frustration, and a crushing sense of betrayal all threatened to erupt at once. Diego longed to cry out, to demand justice. His throat tightened. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t his fault, but the words lodged in his throat.

Running had given him plenty of time to think—too much time. The accusations that he had summoned the Kraal to the station spun in his mind on an endless, maddening loop. The worst part?

He wasn’t sure they were wrong.

Even still, he reeled at the sentence. They were actually doing it—they were sending him down there.

“God be with you,” Carlos intoned, his voice heavy as he stepped back from the lift.

The door rattled closed in a grinding clatter, sealing Diego inside.

A mechanical clank shook the floor, and the lift lurched into motion, beginning its descent into the depths of Serenity’s lower rings.

Diego pressed his back against the wall, the knife trembling in his hand.

What do they expect me to do?

But he knew that answer.

The knife slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor.

3. Earth Angel

The lift descended, and with every passing second, a cold, leaden worry tightened around Diego’s spine. After what felt like an eternity, the metal doors cycled open in layers, revealing the abandoned corridors of Delta Ring. Fear drove Diego to reach down and retrieve the knife. His grip tightened on the handle until his knuckles turned white. While it wasn’t much, it was something.

He lingered at the lift’s threshold, his chest heaving with rapid breaths that formed faint white puffs in the chilled air—a reminder of the vacuum of space beyond the orbital’s walls. The environmentals were set at bare minimums down here, leaving the temperature noticeably colder than the habitable rings.

With slow steps, he ventured out, his senses on high alert for any hint of danger. The rattling of the lift’s doors closing behind him carried loudly through the still air. Startled, Diego whirled around and hammered at the button, but the doors remained stubbornly shut.

He needed a passkey.

Then he heard it—a distant grunt, the cry of a growler echoing through the back halls. Diego’s pulse spiked. He instinctively reached for his gift, and a sharp, white flash shot through his mind—exhaustion made using el sentido dotado almost unbearable.

And, of course, nothing happened.

Whether from too long on the run without sleep or just another symptom of adolescence, his gift had become as unreliable as his voice. Straining for it now only led to splitting headaches.

He hurried down a short hall, emerging into a plaza. His eyes darted around, scanning for a hiding spot. The growlers could arrive any second.

A few dim lights flickered weakly, illuminating dust floating in the air. Scattered metal benches, abandoned kiosks, faded advertisements, piles of clothing, and the skeletal remains of trees in planter boxes filled the space.

Where to hide? He immediately dismissed several options—like climbing on top of a kiosk. Without being able to mask his presence with his gift, the growlers would see him. His eye caught on a trash can tipped on its side. Diego prayed it would be enough and dove in, pulling ancient garbage over himself, heart hammering.

The cold air seeped through his lightweight jumpsuit, sending shivers rippling along his arms and down his spine. The standard attire, ideal for Charlie Ring’s steady 21 degrees Celsius, offered little protection against the biting chill down here. Diego would need to find something warmer—and soon.

He waited, breaths shallow. His mind wandered despite the danger. How many growlers could be down here? Hundreds? Thousands? The uncertainty only gnawed at him. Before the Arrival, Serenity had been home to so many. Were they all still down here as growlers?

Every void storm brought chaos, driving terrors from the lower decks back up into the upper rings—or worse, turning more people into growlers. From the stories Diego had heard, growlers were so vicious that even a single one could take down several soldiers if it got too close. Rather than risk a fight, the defense squads had learned to herd them into maintenance lifts, then send them back to the lower rings.

Where he now was.

He slowly began to realize that the steady rattle of the station’s environmental systems was the only sound. No growlers.

His pulse slowed, and Diego felt a twinge of embarrassment—was he just jumping at shadows? Resigned to venturing out without using his gift to sense danger, he pushed the trash aside and crawled out.

At the plaza’s center stood a dry, tiered fountain, its mint green and pale pink tiles fractured and crumbling. Once-polished chrome accents were dulled by layers of grime and dust. Tattered storefronts bordered the space, their windows shattered, signage broken and dark.

A balcony wrapped the plaza, reflecting the desolation below. The promenade extended beyond in both directions, forming a mall-like corridor that ran through the heart of each of Serenity’s rings.

Faded advertisements from before the Arrival clung to the walls and kiosks. One depicted a sleek starship soaring through space, accompanied by the tagline: “Embark on an Interstellar Journey with Quantum Quest Travel Agency.” Another featured a beaming teenage girl in a plaid skirt, playfully leaning forward with her hands on her knees, proclaiming, “Buy Tomorrow’s Fashion Today at Bobby Soxers!”

Diego paused to consider his options. Nowadays, the residents of Serenity Orbital inhabited the Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Rings. They’d made many alterations and changes through the years. Stores were gutted, diners repurposed, and offices converted into makeshift homes.

But down here in Delta Ring, everything had remained untouched since the events of the Arrival years ago. The plaza’s shops offered various pre-Arrival amenities, including a café, a convenience store, a Starlight Inn, and even a Serenity Link Transit entrance. But what held his attention was the Atomic Pizzarama directly across the plaza. Its dusty sign depicted a stylized mouse, electric guitar in hand, striking a rock-n-roll pose.

Diego paused, remembering the hours he and Miguel had spent huddled in their hideout, flipping through old comics—especially the ones with Atomic Pizzarama’s iconic mascot, Remy, and his intrepid friends on their galactic escapades.

A memory surged up.

“I’m not joking,” Miguel had said, face lit only by the lamplight. “I saw the faded logo on a wall in Nando’s Workshop, behind a cabinet! That place had to be one.”

Diego’s eyebrow lifted. “Just ‘cause you saw an old logo, you think there’s a real Atomic Pizzarama still out there. Like, untouched?”

Miguel had grinned. “I’m saying there could be. Somewhere out there. Delta Ring, Echo Ring, I dunno—one of those places they never let us into. We just gotta find it.”

A flicker of warmth stirred in Diego’s chest as the memory faded. But that was quickly smothered by the image of Miguel in the crowd, looking away—refusing even to acknowledge him.

Diego swallowed hard. Nostalgia wouldn’t help him now. Food, water, shelter—those were all that mattered. Not some fake rat in a spacesuit.

Rubbing his hands for warmth, he studied the promenade curving off in both directions. Every shadow looked like a potential hiding spot for growlers. He glanced around, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed his every move.

A pile of clothing nearby caught his attention. Similar heaps were scattered around the plaza. His eyes snagged on a jacket tumbled in with other rumpled attire.

He reached for it with fingers stiff from the cold, and then stopped. Memories of the Kraal’s attack surged through his mind. People fading away at its touch, leaving behind only the clothes they once wore. Glancing around, he realized he stood in a graveyard. How many had died here?

A wave of cold, heavy sorrow clenched his heart. These were silent memorials of those who had once walked the orbital’s halls and would never be seen again.

Like his parents.

No matter how hard he tried to forget it, that final, horrific moment only days before remained seared into his mind—followed always by the crushing weight it carried. While running from La Familia, he’d struggled against the urge to stop and cry, but no more. The dam broke. The sorrow overcame him, and he let go.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he sank to the floor, huffing, struggling to keep from wailing. He couldn’t stop thinking about them.

The sound of his father’s guitar as they sang together at night. His mother’s quiet humming while she made breakfast.

No more.

Never again would he hear her gentle laugh. Never again would she pull him close after another rough day, gently stroking his hair and whispering the soft words that somehow made it bearable.

It hollowed him out, leaving behind an ache he couldn’t ignore and had no idea how to fill.

Was it true? Had he summoned the Kraal that killed his parents? The thought clawed at his mind. But he couldn’t go there. He slammed the door on it, locking it away. The possibility was too much to bear.

Even drowning in sorrow, Diego knew he couldn’t afford to lose himself too much—not now. Any noise could draw unwanted attention. Sniffling and huffing, he fought to recover. Wiping tears from his eyes, he glanced at the jacket again.

Despite his desperate need for warmer things, grief rooted him in place. While these weren’t his parents’ clothes, knowing they had once belonged to someone who was once cherished and loved made it too hard to sort through them.

He remembered Donna’s scarf, still tucked in his pocket. She would love it; he was sure of that. But she’d also understand if he had to use it. She’d want him to use it. With that thought, he wrapped it around his neck, feeling a slight warmth spread through him. Not much, but better than nothing.

Someday, after all of this, he’d give it to her.

She had to have survived. He was sure of it.

***

Two years ago.

Diego’s heart grew heavier with each dreadful step he took toward his classroom on Charlie Ring. It was time again for mandatory communal service—a monthly ritual on Charlie Ring, where all the youth were assigned tasks vital to maintaining the station. But it was an ordeal he dreaded—not because of the work, but because of Raphael.

Now, as he neared the classroom, the walls seemed to close in with every step, his stomach turning to ice.

This morning, Diego had tried to avoid it altogether, feigning illness in a desperate bid to stay home. But his mother had seen through the act.

Only a handful of schoolmates were selected for each day of service, so he didn’t know exactly who would be there—but he had heard that Raphael was among them.

“Hey, Donna, check this out!” Raphael’s boisterous voice echoed down the hallway, freezing Diego mid-step. Just hearing it sent an icy stab through him. A loud crash followed, accompanied by laughter.

Diego took slow, steady breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach, but it was no use. Resigned to the day ahead, he clenched his fists and stepped into the classroom.

Raphael lay sprawled on the floor amidst a tangle of overturned chairs. A cheeky grin was plastered on his face as if the chaos were his crowning achievement. His stout, well-fed sidekick, Julian, extended a hand to help him up.

The rest of the group rounded out the cohort: a girl Diego had only seen in passing—Donna—and a boy, Miguel, whom Diego vaguely recognized from a shared class but had never spoken to.

Raphael’s eyes locked onto Diego, his grin twisting into a dark smirk. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t Diego, the void terror! Beware, folks—a growler walks among us! Better clear the way!”

Julian chimed in. “El duende, you ever look in the mirror? Or are they all broken in your house?”

Diego’s ears burned as his gaze darted around the room for support. But the others avoided his eyes, their silence as cutting as the taunts.

With gritted teeth, he forced himself to ignore Raphael. He’d get through this day like he had countless others before. Nearby, Miguel straightened the chairs into a circle as they waited for their advisor to arrive.

Diego reached for an empty seat, but Raphael’s foot shot out, kicking it away.

“Sorry, amigo,” Raphael sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “Chairs aren’t for growlers.”

Diego turned away, chest tightening, eyes stinging.

Donna’s voice rang out, and with just a few simple words, she wielded more power than all of Raphael’s actions ever had. “You know what, Rafe? You can be a real jerk.”

The room fell silent, every eye turning to Donna.

To Diego, she transformed into an avenging angel. Her words cut through the air like a divine proclamation.

Raphael’s smirk faltered, his bravado crumbling under Donna’s gaze. “Hey, what do you mean, doll?” he protested weakly.

Donna’s expression darkened, her gaze pinning Raphael in place. “Why do you always have to pick on Diego?”

Raphael squirmed, giving a dismissive wave. “It’s all in good fun. Diego knows I’m not serious, right?”

Scowling, Diego clenched his fists, swallowing the retort burning on his tongue, his silence the only answer. Mercifully, their instructor arrived, ending the exchange.

Fate took a turn for the better that day when Diego was paired with Donna. He braced himself, expecting her to refuse—plenty of other service days had passed with him working alone. But instead, Donna stepped forward with a smile.

They worked in relative quiet, sorting through bins of worn-out parts in a maintenance bay. Their task was simple but tedious: separating components that could be refurbished from those that were too far gone. Diego welcomed the silence—it spared him from the awkward conversations that so often came with his schoolmates.

But Donna surprised him. She didn’t flinch when her gaze met his, nor did she recoil as if he were something to fear. Now and then, she gave him a thoughtful look, but there was no malice in her expression—only curiosity.

The kindness in her presence felt almost surreal. Simply being near her was a soothing balm; if that wasn’t enough, a delightful scent of flowers and strawberries trailed in her wake.

Diego found himself stealing glances at her, trying to understand why she acted so oddly. Other than his parents, everyone else treated him with fear and scorn.

Midway through prying apart a casing, his tool slipped, slicing his palm. He hissed, the part falling from his hand in a clatter. Blood welled up as he clenched his fist.

“Diego!” Donna cried out, coming to his side in an instant. She grabbed his wrist and gently pried his fingers open.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, instinctively pulling his hand away.

“No, it’s not!” she shot back, holding it firmly. With a tug that left little room for argument, she led Diego to a nearby first-aid kit, retrieving bandages and antiseptic.

He winced, sucking in a sharp breath as she dabbed the wound. “It hurts when you mess with it,” he growled. “I’ll be fine!”

But he didn’t pull his hand away. Her fingers were warm, and he didn’t want her to let go.

Donna smirked, her dimples sending his heart into a tailspin. “Oh, stop whining. It’s just antiseptic.”

She carefully wrapped his hand in the bandage. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks,” Diego muttered, drawing his hand close and avoiding her gaze.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Look away,” she said, tilting her head.

His hand shot up, almost without thinking, tugging his long hair over the scars on his face. “Just… ’cause.”

Donna let out a sharp huff. “Right. So it’s easier to ignore everything? To let the guys treat you like that?”

Diego froze, caught off guard by her directness.

“What?” he squeaked.

Donna’s expression softened. “Everyone treats you like you’re—I don’t know—something to be afraid of. But I haven’t ever seen that. You’re just you.”

He shrugged, his shoulders curling inward. “It’s easier if I don’t fight it. Gives them one less reason to make things worse, maybe.”

“That’s stupid,” she said bluntly, crossing her arms.

Her words stung, but when he glanced at her, there was no ill will in her expression—just a soft smile, her eyes showing concern mixed with frustration on his behalf.

“I’m serious,” she said, stepping closer. “Don’t let them treat you that way. And you shouldn’t look down all the time. You have nice eyes. They’re… unique.”

Diego blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. “They’re weird,” he muttered, quickly looking away, knowing the violet glimmer in his left eye was ugly.

“Are not,” Donna replied softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re… cute, actually. And your eyelashes? Totally unfair—they’re so long and dark. I wish mine looked like that.”

His heart lurched, a flutter of disbelief and confusion floundering in his chest. He turned abruptly, rushing back to the bin of parts. “We have work to do, I think,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he fumbled through the contents.

Donna let out a soft giggle. “Right.”

Diego grabbed a worn circuit board, staring at it without really seeing it. Her words replayed in his mind on an endless loop. She thinks my eyes are cute?

He kept his head down for the rest of the day—not to avoid her gaze, but to hide the small, flustered smile he couldn’t shake.