In the days after his beating, the words haunted Charles’ mind. Whenever he left his apartment, he caught glimpses of the proud gang members in his building beating a new person and thought of the words. When he saw another person wandering around the halls, high and in a completely different world, he thought of the words. And whenever he heard a gunshot from down the hallway, he thought of the words. 

        If you aren’t strong enough to.

	His mind grasped and wrestled with what the words meant. Why they were uttered and what they implied. And soon he made a connection. He was weak. The strong hate the weak. The weak escaped the strong however they could. When they couldn’t, they died. He felt clarity in his realization. So much so, that it replaced the words the man had said and became his mantra

        I am weak. The strong hate the weak. The weak escape the strong however possible. I am at the mercy of the strong.

        When his legs guided him to the cafeterias for meal hours, when his eyes glazed over his phone screen, when he laid in bed and stared into the darkness, he repeated the words to ground himself onto something. They were all that existed to him.

	And one day, after a month of finding and internalizing his mantra, he spotted Daniel and his crew walking his way. Charles immediately hid in another alley, his heart pounding as he cowered and peeked out from behind a dumpster. When he caught sight of Daniel, he pulled his head back. And as he stared at the asphalt, only the sound of Daniel’s tongue click filled his ears. It wrapped around the words that he had memorized, chipping away at them. Charles gritted his teeth, feeling the anger bubble up inside of him. He peeked his head out again, wanting to pick an opportune moment to surprise attack him. But he paused when he saw Daniel being comforted by everyone walking around him. They all laughed and patted him on the shoulder and leaned their heads in close as if offering their sympathies. In those seconds, Charles examined every single part of them that he could. And he realized what made Daniel strong. He had friends. People who would do everything for him.

        Charles sat with his back against the dumpster in awe of his epiphany. He hadn’t felt this inspiration and joy since learning his mantra. He got up to see if he could catch sight of Daniel so that he could see if he could learn anything else. And sure enough, he could pick them out making a commotion and moshing against one another. Charles ducked into the crowd and followed from a distance. It wasn’t long until they filed into a cafeteria and sat at one of the large bench tables, pushing out the few stragglers. A few of them got up and grabbed trays of food from the service counter. All of the food brought by the gang was spread out and shared by everyone, with the exception of Daniel who got what was arguably the best items in front of him. 

        Charles kept his head down and sat a bench away, facing them. They ate ravenously. Their voices were faint among the blended murmurs of everyone else. But in between their chewing, Charles could hear them discuss their other victims - the crimes they committed against Daniel and how they paid for them. They all laughed and patted each other on the back while reminiscing. Listening to all of it made Charles stomach churn. He was about to leave until one of them brought up that one of the punishments might have been too much. The entire conversation ceased and Charles felt that old fear wash over him as he slowly lifted his head to see what was happening.

        Daniel and all of his gang had their attention focused on a boy that Charles recognized as the big guy who sat on him during his last beating. The boy stumbled over his words and looked around him, as if to see who he might be able to cling to for help.

        “You’re the one who always sits on them and lets the beating happen. How can you say that our punishments are too harsh when you let them go on like that?” Daniel said in a matter-of-fact voice. The rest of the table nodded their heads. 

        “Yeah, how can you say we’re messed up when you just let it happen?”
        “Yeah, why do you sit on them anyway?”
        “It’s ‘cause he’s fat and’ll get winded if he tries to do anything else!”
        “Is that why you’re blaming us, fatty? Because you can’t do what we do?”

        The two sitting next to the boy slapped his head and he kept his head down while the entire table laughed. Charles felt a familiar tingle in his chest, staring at the plump boy hanging his head. It took a moment for him to realize that it was the same hatred he felt when Daniel had spoken to him a month ago. 

        The boy pulled his head up and smiled.

        “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m just bullshitting because I’m jealous you all are in better shape than me and can dole out the hurt better than I can,” the boy said and joined in their laughter. They patted him on the back and Daniel nodded his head. 

        Charles felt the same awe and joy that he had when realizing the meaning behind the words the man had said a month ago. Then, he realized that he had witnessed his mantra unfold right before his eyes. He watched with wondrous fascination, his eyes darting around to each member of the gang, then back to Daniel, waiting to see if his mantra would manifest again. But the gang finished up the rest of their food quickly. They left their trays on the table before disappearing out of the cafeteria. 

        Looking upon the discarded trays and scraps of food left behind, Charles felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he could be part of the strong that he described in his mantra. He had felt the hatred, now all he had to do was follow what Daniel and his gang had done to the chubby boy.