My brother Andrew was our family's only hope, his Penn State scholarship a golden ticket out of this dead-end, rust-belt town. But that dream shattered on the football field with a sickening crack, as Wesley Fowler, scion of the ruthless family who owned half the town, delivered a dirty, career-ending hit to Andrew's knee. In the hospital, Wesley threw five hundred dollars at me, sneering that Andrew "should have known his place." His goons later cornered me outside, shoving me against a brick wall, reminding me that "dead soldier's kids" were "nothing" and that the Fowlers "own the cops, the school, this whole damn town." Our cries for justice were met with chilling indifference; the sheriff dismissed it as "boys will be boys," and the school revoked Andrew' s scholarship, citing false rumors and Lester Fowler's "donations." An eviction notice appeared, a vicious online smear campaign painted us as violent thugs, and Andrew, once so full of life, withered in despair, whispering, "I wish I had died." How could they get away with this, destroying an innocent life and crushing a family, simply because they were rich and powerful? Drowning in a darkness so profound it felt like the end, I remembered my father' s Special Forces medals and his unit' s motto: "Leave no one behind." My father's brothers in arms were our last hope, and I would drive a thousand miles to find them.
My brother Andrew was our family's only hope, his Penn State scholarship a golden ticket out of this dead-end, rust-belt town.
But that dream shattered on the football field with a sickening crack, as Wesley Fowler, scion of the ruthless family who owned half the town, delivered a dirty, career-ending hit to Andrew's knee.
In the hospital, Wesley threw five hundred dollars at me, sneering that Andrew "should have known his place."
His goons later cornered me outside, shoving me against a brick wall, reminding me that "dead soldier's kids" were "nothing" and that the Fowlers "own the cops, the school, this whole damn town."
Our cries for justice were met with chilling indifference; the sheriff dismissed it as "boys will be boys," and the school revoked Andrew' s scholarship, citing false rumors and Lester Fowler's "donations."
An eviction notice appeared, a vicious online smear campaign painted us as violent thugs, and Andrew, once so full of life, withered in despair, whispering, "I wish I had died."
How could they get away with this, destroying an innocent life and crushing a family, simply because they were rich and powerful?
Drowning in a darkness so profound it felt like the end, I remembered my father' s Special Forces medals and his unit' s motto: "Leave no one behind."
My father's brothers in arms were our last hope, and I would drive a thousand miles to find them.
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