“If you have an enemy, then learn and know your enemy, just don’t be mad at him.”

Denzel Washington

Bethany observed her apparition, feeling the bonds of familiarity slip into place. The air around her began to change. She could smell whiskey-soaked carpets and mildew in the air. A perfect reflection of the scents of her childhood, from the home she had fled. She heard a soothing laughter in her ear. A laughter that had comforted her many times after being subjected to her father’s anger.

The apparition began to take shape, an elderly woman in a yellow flower dress.

“Grand…” Bethany started, her voice breaking with grief.

“You! It’s you!” Rocky yelled in anger, his voice soaked with pain and hatred. Bethany tore her gaze away from her apparition, and towards the gentle giant. He was trying to rise from his chair, his hands outstretched as he reached for his apparition, attempting to strangle it. His anger shocked Bethany, and broke Emily from her grief.

The apparition in front of Bethany vanished, and Bethany felt a touch of pain as the growing bond was severed once more.

“Rocky, what’s wrong? Who is it?” Emily asked, trying to calm her friend.

The apparition started to take shape. The transparent whisps darkened and solidified, forming into a muscular teenager with roughly cut blond hair. He was dressed in black jeans, a white dress shirt, and a private school vest. His bent nose had been broken multiple times, but he was a handsome man, and his sneer told Bethany that he knew it.

“Brad,” spat Rocky. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this judgment.” Bethany was taken back, and Emily looked towards Rocky in shock.

“Who is that?” Emily asked again. “You’ve never told me about him before. I’ve never seen you hate anyone before.” Emily’s voice had a hint of hurt that did not come from her experience with Emma. Bethany realized Emily had thought she knew everything there was to know about Rocky, and now knew he had kept this from her.

“He is someone I wanted to forget,” answered Rocky with venom. “Brad Henderson. He made my life in school miserable. He was relentless. He made every day worse than the one before it. I…I tried…”

Rocky’s anger started to quickly fade, as if his lack of experience being angry made it fragile to maintain. Then his expression moved from anger to uncertainty as the spirit of Brad began to stare down at Rocky with contempt in its eyes. Bethany watched as Rocky unconsciously tried to inch himself further from the spirit, but he could not move from the stone chair.

The teenaged Brad began to shift, growing small and skinny. The grey walls around them began to spin again, and the room filled with the sounds of laughing children. Brad was suddenly an eleven-year-old boy, sitting at the back of his classroom as a new student stood beside their teacher and was being introduced to his new classmates. The new student looked so familiar…

“Is that… you, Rocky?” Bethany asked. He had the same kindly eyes and facial features as the giant man who sat across the stone table, but that was where the similarities ended. Young Rocky was the smallest kid in the class, with long greasy hair clinging to his back. He was skinny and weak, without an ounce of muscle on his frame. His knees shook from the attention. He looked like a breeze could knock him over. His shirt had been torn and stitched back together, though the stitching was starting to come lose.

Rocky did not answer. He had closed his eyes, knowing what was to come.

Brad sneered and opened the top of his desk to the storage space beneath. He pulled out the overripe pear he had stashed there last month. It oozed in his hand, and Brad held his breath to avoid the smell. He had been saving the pair for just such an occasion.

Brad hurled the pear through the air, and it struck Rocky in the forehead. The pear disintegrated, its rotten flesh cascading over Rocky’s tiny frame and its stench filling the room. In his shock, Rocky fell backwards, and struck his head against the chalkboard. He landed in a heap on the classroom floor, the sound of Brad’s laughter in his ear.

“That… that was how it began,” whispered Rocky. “I was so excited to start in a new school. We… we didn’t live a privileged life when I was young, and school was my sanctuary. He took that away from me. He took it all away from me.”

The room was encased in a bright light as the scene changed. Brad was now twelve years old. Rocky lay beneath him, curled into a ball with a bloodied nose. He picked up Rocky’s backpack and dumped its contents into a nearby creek. Textbooks sank to the bottom and homework pages floated downstream. Brad reached into the empty backpack and poked his finger through one of its many holes. He dropped it on the ground beside the creek and stomped on it to drive it into the mud. He leveled a kick at Rocky’s chest, and Rocky gave a gasp of pain.

“Next time, you will call me Mr. Henderson, and… and you will lick my boot if I tell you too. You got that, Balboa?” Brad sneered as he walked away, leaving Rocky lying in the mud.

“He used to call me Balboa, after the Sylvester Stallone character,” Rocky explained reluctantly. “To remind me just how weak I was.”

The scene changed again in another bright flash. Brad was thirteen. He held Rocky’s head in a toilet bowl at school and listened to Rocky try to scream. He only pulled Rocky’s head up when he felt Rocky stop struggling. Rocky spat out the water and lay across the bowl limply as Brad took off Rocky’s jeans. Brad laughed as he left Rocky lying there, and disposed of the jeans in the nearest trash can.

Flash. Brad was fifteen. He watched as Rocky emerged from his therapist’s office. Brad had known Rocky would be there. Brad had stolen the referral sheet from the school counselor’s office, and then made sure his own therapist appointments coincided with Rocky’s. After all, he needed to take out his post therapy anger on someone. Moments later, Brad shoved Rocky up against the wall of a nearby building and kicked him sharply in the stomach. Rocky was fatter now, in an unhealthy way, and he collapsed forward, bend over.

“I hope you had a good session, Balboa. Let’s make sure you need to keep having them.” Brad laughed, then bent down beside the prone boy. When Brad left the alley, his knuckles were covered in Rocky’s blood.

Flash. Brad was seventeen. Rocky lay on the ground, unconscious and bloody, with his arm bent at an unnatural angle. Rocky was at least three hundred and fifty pounds now and struggled to breathe. Police car lights flashed blue and red behind Brad, but Brad did not try to flee. He just stared down at the pile of flab in front of him as he was handcuffed and led him to the back of their car. An ambulance arrived and two paramedics jumped out and rushed over to Rocky’s side while a third paramedic radioed for additional support. Rocky was too large for the three of them to carry.

The scenes stopped changing and ended with Brad being taken away by the police.

“Six years,” whispered Rocky, his anger and pain seeping out in every syllable. “He tormented me for six years. And I had no one. I spent my childhood moving from foster home to foster home. I didn’t eat, until one day I could not stop eating. I was sent to a therapist, but every time I went, Brad was there, waiting for me. So I never got the help I needed. Every day, he set out to make my life hell. Until that day. I spent three weeks in the hospital, and they were the best three weeks of my life. And when I returned, he was gone. I never saw him again.”

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Rocky took a deep breath. “But the trauma never left. I couldn’t enter the bathroom at school without a panic attack. Sitting in class made me break out in a sweat. I could not focus, and I failed every class. So I dropped out of school. I worked dead end job after dead end job, completely alone and afraid. And it was all because of him.”

Rocky gazed up at the moon above them, vengeance in his eyes. “I’m ready to make my judgment on this bastard. You can take his soul and send it straight to h…”

“Rocky, wait!” shouted Bethany urgently. “Something isn’t right.”

Rocky paused, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…I don’t know. He did horrible things to you. I know how you feel. Trust me, I know. But something feels off. Doesn’t it seem so… one sided?”

“You think there was another side to this monster?” Rockey asked, incredulously.

“She’s right, Rocky,” piped up Emily. “Think about it. Emma’s memories were her memories, not my own. It showed her struggles and her emotions. It showed me events that I did not know about.”

Emily took a deep breath, steeling herself for her next point. “And it showed me how she died. I never knew she… she didn’t want to live anymore.” Tears returned to Emily’s eyes, but she forced them down. “You did not see Brad’s life. You only saw what you already knew.”

Rocky blinked. Then he blinked again, everything clicking into place. He stared up at Brad’s apparition, and its lifeless eyes stared back from the police car. Then Rocky started to laugh. A lively laugh that was as out of place as anything could be.

“Oh, that is good Thoth. That is very good. And I nearly fell for it. But you forgot one thing about my story. I didn’t stay alone forever. I found a friend. Emily Desjarlais. The smartest, bravest, and most amazing woman in the world, who made me who I am today.”

Across the table, Bethany saw Emily blush. She tried to hide it in her palms, but Bethany had seen her, and it made her smile.

Rocky looked back up at the moon, his arms crossed and leaning back in his stone chair. “Show me the full story Thoth. Show me Brad the man, not Brad the monster.”

The room began to shift, and there was a bright flash.

Brad was eleven. He was sitting on a couch, his stomach growling. His parents had not been home in three days and his fifteen-year-old brother had abandoned him to crash another drunken party. There was no power as her father had not paid the bill. So Brad sat in the dark, his only company the familiar loneliness that filled the once vibrant home, wishing someone would remember he existed.

Flash. Brad was twelve. He stood in front of a full-length mirror, his brother’s football jersey hanging loose on his skinny frame. He imagined himself as the star of the team, just like his brother, adored by teachers and classmates alike. Then his brother burst into the room. He grabbed Brad by the neck and slammed him against the mirror. The mirror fractured and shards of glass fell at his feet. His brother ripped the jersey from him and threw him to the ground, the shards of glass cutting across his bare chest. He curled into a ball as his brother kicked him hard and lay there long after his brother had left.

Flash. Brad was thirteen. His brother held him under the shower, forcing his mouth open. Water filled his lungs as he tried to gasp for air. Just before he fell unconscious, his brother pulled him out and threw him to the bathroom floor. He grabbed Brad by the collar and dragged him to Brad’s room. His brother reached under Brad’s bed and pulled out an almost empty whisky bottle. His brother was furious. He drank the last drops of whisky, then smashed the bottle over Brad’s head.

Flash. Brad was fifteen. He watched as the police led his brother away in handcuffs in the dead of night, emergency lights illuminating their home. Brad could hear words like ‘gang’ and ‘murder’, but he was led away by his social worker before he could hear more. His social worker started asking him questions. No, he did not know where his parents were. They were not around much. Couldn’t he stay here? He didn’t want to go into foster care. No, he didn’t have much that he wanted to bring with him.

Flash. Brad was seventeen. He had been kicked out of his sixth foster home. The province had run out of options and could no longer help him. What would he do? Where would he go? He was scared and angrier than he had ever been. Everyone abandoned him. His parents, his brother, his foster parents, and, just now, his therapist, who had found out about him bullying Rocky. Then Brad spotted Rocky leaving his appointment, and he decided what to do next. After all, his brother said prison meals weren’t that bad.

Rocky gaped as the images cycled through the hidden aspects of Brad’s life. He felt his anger fade away little by little as each memory passed by.

Flash. Brad was twenty. He had just finished his third stint in jail. He gripped his meager belongings in arms, waiting for the bus to arrive. This time it would be different. This time, he did not intend to go back. It was time for a fresh start. He clutched the address of his probation worker tightly in his hand, as if it were his last lifeline.

Flash. Brad was twenty-three. His stepson laughed as Brad bounced him on his knee. Across the room, his girlfriend slept upright in the raggedy chair they had scavenged from a dumpster, her snores filling the room. Their newborn daughter rested comfortably on her shoulder, asleep with her mother. Brad set his son in his playpen and ruffled his hair lovingly, then walked quietly over to his girlfriend and lifted his daughter off her shoulder. His girlfriend nearly woke up, but Brad gently covered her with a blanket, and she fell back into a peaceful slumber. He lay back on the couch with his daughter on his chest and stared at the ceiling. He gave a silent thank you, then drifted off to sleep.

Flash. Brad was twenty-six. He had just finished his night shift and was driving home in darkness. He saw a glow in the distance. It was too early for sunrise, and it was in the wrong direction. Brad felt panic surge within him, and he stepped on the gas. When he screeched to a stop in front of their home, it was engulfed in flames. His wife and children were nowhere to be seen. Brad ran into their home, screaming their names. The flames licked at his skin and the smoke burned his lungs, but he pushed on. Their bedroom was so close, and the door was shut. Suddenly, there was a crack from above, and the roof of the old house started to give way. Brad could faintly hear sirens in the distance, and he knew he should leave. But he knew his wife and child were here. He just knew. He was having trouble seeing now. He felt faint. Sleepy. Brad collapsed to the ground, a foot away from the door, and his life was consumed in smoke and fire.

Brad’s apparition stood before Rocky, with blackened flesh visible across his body. The price of a brave act in the last moments of his life. The lifeless eyes still stared at Rocky, but they were now touched with a deep sorrow. A man who had finally found happiness and had it taken away.

Rocky’s head was bowed. Bethany expected to see tears or anger in Rocky’s eyes, but when he lifted his head, she could only see calculation.

Rocky sat in silence for a long while, playing through the options in his head. And eventually, he decided which way to go.

“It took me a long time to find myself,” Rocky started. “I tried therapy. I tried medication. I tried forgetting. Each one brought me just a little bit closer, until I had filled enough of the cracks in my own soul to want to live again. But there was one last crack that kept me from being whole. Something I was never able to do in all those years. Until now.”

Rocky raised his head towards the spirit. “I forgive you Brad. I forgive you for what you did when we were young. I am glad you found a small slice of happiness, even if you only had it for a short while. And I hope you find that happiness again, as your spirit moves on.”

Rocky raised his head to the moon, his voice cracking. “Here is my judgment. Brad has suffered enough in this life. He did wrong, and he had wrong done to him. It is time for us both to leave the pain behind. Send his soul to his family, so that he may regain the happiness he lost and be better for it.”

There was silence as Thoth considered Rocky’s judgment.

“Your choice….is within the bounds of justice. His spirit shall ascent to the heavens, and be reunited with those that were lost, unshackled from the guilt that has tied him to the mortal plains.”

Rocky watched as Brad’s spirit dissolved away, and Rocky felt his long-hidden anger disappear with him.

“To judge another, one must be first willing to truly understand them. To see beyond one’s own narrow view. The same is true in The God Contest. You must learn to think beyond what stands in front of you and look for hidden depths of meaning beyond its surface. You have taken that first step today.”

Rocky’s eyes grew damp, and he let out a soft whisper. He turned towards Bethany and Emily. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have condemned him. I would have condemned us all.”

“But you didn’t,” replied Emily, lovingly. “We are in this together. We have each other’s backs. Now let’s finish this.” Emily turned her head to Bethany and gave her a supportive nod.

Bethany’s apparition reappeared and the bond was formed anew.

“I know who you are,” Bethany spoke, as she reached out for her spirit. “I miss you, grandma.”