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“Uh … no … Back rooms are boundless spaces entered through a portal. They’re like a labyrinth, infinite, and there’s hardly any way to escape them. Monsters hide there, and you run the risk of being trapped in them for eternity. You lose your mind and are completely at the mercy of the situation.”

“Is that something psychological?”

“More of a thought experiment. I picked up this concept from video games. I’m trying to use the idea of back rooms as a metaphor. The only question is for what.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, taking a sip of the hot chocolate, which was so sweet it made my face scrunch up. “But maybe it would actually be easier to use the back rooms you meant,” I said meekly.

Hector laughed. “Believe me, Luca, you don’t want to get lost in those back rooms either. They harbor all sorts of abysses—just like your back rooms.”

“Maybe.”

All of a sudden, a loud scream startled me, and I glanced at the screen. A boy was being tormented by his classmates; two held him down while a third punched him in the stomach until he threw up.

A paralyzing feeling took hold of me, and I felt the locked-away memories rise up within me.

“Sara,” Hector said, but she didn’t hear him and stared at the screen as if transfixed.

I felt dizzy, so I put my hand on the kitchen counter. The screams from the TV mingled with the screams from my memories—my own screams. Hector knew about my past and placed a caring hand on my upper arm. But all I felt were the firm grips of Samir and Cédric burning into my skin.

The memories spread through my mind. The noise from the TV and Hector’s voice faded further into the background. I was trapped under a glass bell, and all I felt were Jér?me’s hard blows to my stomach.

“Please, stop,” I gasped breathlessly.

“Hahaha … definitely not!” Jerome called out disdainfully.

Other schoolkids surrounded me.

“Please, someone help me! Please!”

“Save your breath, you ugly little piglet! No one will help you.”

My stomach clenched, and I retched. Samir and Cédric released me, and I collapsed into my own vomit. As I rolled to the side, Jerome delivered another blow to my stomach. I wheezed and hunched over. Jerome then crouched beside me, seizing my hair in a tight grip.

“You’re nothing! An ugly little piglet. No one will ever love you! You’ll be a loser your whole life.”

“Sara!”

It was Hector’s voice that reached me and brought me back. My knees felt weak, my hands were trembling, and something constricted my throat.

“What’s up?” Sara called out.

“For God’s sake, turn it down!” Hector shouted angrily.

I bent forward, resting my hands on my knees, and took a deep breath. Fuck … calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore. I’m not the helpless little boy I used to be.

The mantra didn’t always help because I knew all too well that I wasn’t the same little boy anymore.

Just before the incident on the roof with Jerome, I had a growth spurt.

And after being released from juvenile detention, I said goodbye to my brown hair.

No, I wasn’t the same, but that helpless, tortured boy was still a part of me.

“Oh, sorry,” Sara said, immediately lowering the volume.

My heart was still racing, and a lot of shitty memories were piling up in my head.

Ignore it.

Breathe.

Everything’s fine .

As I straightened up again, my hands were still shaking like leaves, so I didn’t even dare to reach for the cup.

“Luca,” Hector said gently, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

I managed to nod, but that was a lie. Nothing was okay. I still heard Jerome’s voice echoing in my head.

“No one will help you. No one will ever love you.”

Dazed, I clasped my mouth.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. Can I do anything?”

It wasn’t a secret that I got overstimulated quickly. And unlike Sara, Hector knew that I had been bullied for years. Right now, my two biggest weaknesses were colliding, and I wanted to explode.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sara asked.

Hector brushed off her question with a casual gesture and sought my gaze.

At least I knew what would help me. Without a word, I staggered into my room and retrieved the kickboxing gloves from the training bag.

Then I stood in front of the punching bag and started hitting it.

At first, my punches felt dull and weak, but gradually, my spirits came to life and drove away the shadows with every strike.

Jerome.

Samir.

Cédric.

Armando.

Ben.

Fuck!

I was so grateful to Hector for allowing me to hang the punching bag.

After the incident with Jerome, I found a way to channel my overflowing emotions through martial arts.

Anger, fear, panic. By moving my body and pushing it to its limits with intense training, I managed to find inner peace again.

I fell into a sort of trance and lost all sense of time.

It had often happened that Dario, my trainer, had to pull me away from the punching bag because I had drifted off completely.

But better to do that than to lose control and hurt people.

And so I kept going. Didn’t stop until the memories of years of abuse were banished.