THE BROKEN DREAMS

Fred woke up the next morning with Nadia's sandwich still half-wrapped in his bag and a headache throbbing behind his eyes.

The humiliation from Trevor's "invitation" still gnawed at his bones like acid.

Everywhere Fred went on campus, it followed him.

The mocking glances.

The whispered jokes.

The fake pity.

Some people even made memes of him:

"Mop Boy Attends Billionaire Party."

"From Prom King to Prom Cleaner!"

Fred became the day's trending joke.

He wanted to vanish.

But life wasn't a fantasy where the ground opened up and swallowed you whole.

It just let you rot slowly, in public.

---

By lunchtime, another bombshell dropped.

The campus posted about a Charity Auction to "support underprivileged students."

It sounded noble.

But it wasn't.

> Top 10 girls would be auctioned as prom dates to the highest bidder.

Minimum starting bid: $10,000.

Bidders: Rich students, business tycoons, a few politicians' sons.

Fred overheard girls crying in bathrooms.

Not because they hated it.

Because they were terrified they wouldn't get the highest bids and would be labeled "cheap."

It wasn't about charity.

It was about price tags on souls.

---

At 3:00 PM, Fred's only friend, Mark, finally found him behind the Engineering block.

Mark was short, skinny, glasses cracked in the middle, stuttered when he got nervous.

They had been friends since day one.

Both invisible.

Both poor.

Both dreamers.

But today... Mark's eyes wouldn't meet Fred's.

> "Hey, Fred..." Mark muttered.

Fred waited.

Mark pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a glossy VIP ticket.

"Charity Auction: Reserved VIP Guest."

Fred blinked.

> "Where'd you get that?" he asked slowly.

Mark shifted awkwardly.

> "Trevor... Trevor said if I volunteered to work the event, he'd give me... he'd give me..."

He couldn't finish.

Fred finished for him.

> "...money."

Mark nodded shamefully.

$500 just to help Trevor mock Fred during the auction.

Hold signs.

Wave fake paddles.

Be part of the circus.

Fred's fists clenched so tight his nails dug bloody crescents into his palms.

He didn't blame Mark.

He blamed the system that made $500 seem like salvation to a drowning man.

Without a word, Fred turned and walked away.

The friendship crumbled like wet paper behind him.

--

At sunset, as Fred sat on the abandoned bleachers near the old gym, sketching yet another graveyard of broken dreams, Nadia found him again.

She sat silently beside him for a long time.

Finally, she whispered:

> "Don't go to the auction."

Fred stared at her.

> "Why?"

Nadia's voice trembled — not with fear, but rage.

> "It's a setup."

Fred frowned.

Nadia continued, her voice low:

> "Trevor paid some photographers. They're going to 'accidentally' leak pictures. Make it look like you crashed the event. Say you tried to stalk the Top 10 girls. You'll be expelled... maybe worse."

Fred's stomach twisted into knots.

Expelled?

For being poor?

For breathing where the rich played?

---

That night, Fred couldn't sleep.

He paced his tiny rented room — bare mattress, cracked mirror, leaking ceiling.

Nadia's warning echoed in his mind.

He should stay away.

He knew it.

But something burned hotter than logic inside him:

> Pride.

He was tired of running.

Tired of being a ghost.

Tired of bowing his head.

He wouldn't crash their auction.

But he would crash their illusions.

He would show them that even a "mop boy" could make the wolves tremble.

Even if he bled for it.

Even if it was the last thing he did at Sunrise University.

---

Fred pulled out a dusty black hoodie from his old suitcase.

It was two sizes too big.

Perfect.

He packed his sketchbook, his only weapon, into a backpack.

And tucked a small, battered voice recorder into his pocket — one he had found months ago in the trash.

If they were going to ruin his life with lies, he would at least leave behind a few truths.

A few whispered recordings.

A few memories they couldn't erase.

Fred smiled grimly at the cracked mirror.

The reflection that stared back was no longer a helpless boy.

It was something else.

Something broken.

Something dangerous.

---

At midnight, Fred walked through the empty streets toward Sapphire Bay.

The world was drunk on money and fake glitter.

Limousines lined the sidewalks.

Music thundered from the yachts.

Laughter floated like poison through the air.

Fred moved unseen through the chaos.

A shadow among shadows.

But deep inside, the embers of rebellion blazed hotter with every step.

Tonight, he wasn't coming to beg.

He wasn't coming to clean.

He was coming to watch the wolves feast — and remind them that even prey could bite back.

Even if it cost him everything.