Monsters

Ayman had always been a quiet boy. Growing up in the narrow alleys of Casablanca, he learned early that life was not fair. His father, a fisherman, spent most of his time at sea, leaving Ayman and his mother alone in their tiny apartment. His mother worked as a seamstress, her hands always busy stitching clothes for others while their own were old and worn-out. Money was tight, food was scarce, and opportunities were even scarcer. At school, Ayman was different. He wasn’t the strongest or the loudest, but he was observant. He watched how the rich kids got what they wanted—not by working hard, but by knowing the right people, saying the right things. He saw how teachers gave special treatment to students whose parents made generous donations. It wasn’t fair, but it was a lesson: power belonged to those who knew how to play the game. One day, when Ayman was twelve, he saw his mother crying. The landlord had threatened to evict them if they didn’t pay the rent by the end of the week. That night, Ayman lay in bed, thinking. He had no money, no connections. But he had his mind. The next morning at school, Ayman made his first move. He approached Khalid, one of the richest boys in class, and complimented his expensive sneakers. Khalid, always eager to show off, began talking about his latest gifts from his father. Ayman listened carefully, asking questions, making Khalid feel important. By the end of the conversation, Ayman had earned his trust. A few days later, he told Khalid that a group of boys were planning to make fun of his new shoes. Enraged, Khalid asked Ayman what to do. Ayman suggested an idea: “If you give me your old sneakers, I can pretend I heard them talking and warn them to stop.” Khalid, desperate to maintain his status, handed over the shoes without hesitation. That evening, Ayman sold them to a second-hand shop. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy food for his mother. When she asked where he got the money, he just smiled and said, “A friend helped.” That was the day Ayman learned the power of words. He didn’t need strength; he needed influence. And to gain influence, he needed to understand people—their fears, their desires, their weaknesses. As the years passed, Ayman honed his skills. He became a master at reading emotions, predicting reactions. He realized that people didn’t always want the truth; they wanted reassurance, admiration, solutions to their problems. He gave them what they wanted, and in return, he got what he needed. By the time he was sixteen, Ayman was no longer the quiet boy from the alleys. He had transformed into something else—a survivor, a strategist, a manipulator in the making. And he was just getting started.