Fifteen-year-old Aiden had always been the quiet one. In a group of loud, confident friends, he often felt like the shadow at the edge of the spotlight. They were everything he wasn’t—bold, daring, and unafraid of pushing boundaries. Aiden wanted to fit in, even if it meant pretending to be someone he wasn’t.  

One Friday night, the group decided to sneak into an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. “Come on, Aiden,” Zach, the ringleader, said with a grin. “Don’t be a buzzkill. We’re just having fun.”  

Aiden hesitated. His gut told him it was a bad idea, but the mocking laughter that followed his silence stung. “You scared, Aiden?” one of them jeered.  

So he went.  

The warehouse was dark and eerily quiet, its walls coated in graffiti and grime. The group whooped and hollered, their voices bouncing off the empty space. But as they ventured deeper, the excitement turned to unease. Broken beams and jagged metal jutted out at odd angles, turning the place into a death trap.  

Zach, fearless as always, suggested climbing to the second level. Aiden’s heart raced as he watched his friends scale the shaky scaffolding. “Your turn, Aiden,” Zach called down.  

Every fiber of him screamed no, but Aiden couldn’t bear the thought of being labeled a coward. He grabbed hold of the scaffolding, his palms sweaty and his legs trembling.  

Halfway up, the structure groaned. Aiden froze. “This thing’s gonna collapse!” he shouted, his voice cracking.  

“Don’t be dramatic!” Zach laughed, but the others were already climbing down, their faces pale.  

Then it happened. With a deafening crash, the scaffolding gave way. Aiden barely managed to leap to safety, scraping his hands and knees on the rough floor. Zach wasn’t so lucky. He fell, landing hard amidst the debris.  

Panic erupted. Someone called 911, and the group scattered, afraid of getting in trouble. Aiden stayed, his hands trembling as he pressed them against Zach’s shoulder to stop the bleeding.  

When the ambulance arrived, Aiden rode with Zach to the hospital. That night, as he sat alone in the sterile waiting room, he made a decision.  

He was done trying to prove himself to people who wouldn’t do the same for him.  

In the weeks that followed, Aiden drifted away from the group. He joined the debate team, rediscovered his love for drawing, and found friends who valued him for who he was.  

Zach recovered, but the accident left a scar—on his body and their friendship. They no longer spoke, but Aiden didn’t regret his choice.  

Sometimes, survival meant walking away, even if it meant walking alone.