What would you do if, upon entering prison for the first time, everyone thought you were weak, unaware that you could defeat them single-handedly? When Tomás crossed the rusty gates of the Santa Cruz penitentiary, the air seemed heavier. His downcast gaze and thin frame made him the perfect target. No one imagined that this silent, restrained man hid a past that few would dare to confront.
Recently convicted for a street fight in which he had, ironically, defended an elderly man from thieves, Tomás was sent to serve two years in prison for excessive use of force. He wasn’t a criminal, but he had already learned that justice often favors the aggressor. Upon entering, less than 30 minutes passed before he was noticed by the rat, an inmate known for terrorizing newcomers.
Tall, muscular, with a scar across his face and a crooked smile. The rat approached with his group like a vulture smelling blood. Look what they brought us. A toothpick with the face of a monk. Are you here to pray or cry, novice? The others laughed. Tomás didn’t respond; he just lowered his gaze and continued walking.
But that was enough for the rat to feel challenged. He pushed him against the wall and threw the first punch, not to hurt, but to mark his territory. Tomas let himself be hit. It wasn’t time yet. But what no one knew was that this skinny, quiet man was no ordinary prisoner. In his youth, he had been a martial arts instructor in the police force and had trained with some of the best kung fu masters in the world.
And although he had sworn never to use his abilities again, he was about to break that promise. The following days were hell for Tomás. The rat and his group followed him around every corner of the prison, in the dining room, in the courtyard, even in the showers. They threw his food on the floor, stole his soap, and sometimes forced him to clean their cells like a servant.
“Move it, slave,” one of the thugs said as he threw a dirty tray at him. That’s how they teach weaklings in church. Every insult, every push, every look of contempt was just another spark in a fire that Tomás tried to keep out, but something inside him was beginning to crackle. He knew he couldn’t hold out much longer without exploding, not out of pride, but out of dignity.
One night, while sweeping the hallway outside the rat’s cell, one of the bully’s accomplices put his foot down to trip him. Tomás fell to his knees and all the surrounding prisoners burst into laughter. The rat approached and spat near his face. Stay on the floor like the dog you are. But this time Tomás didn’t get up right away.
He stood there, breathing deeply with his fists clenched, feeling every muscle in his body remember his training. The silence in his mind contrasted with the din of jeers. That night, upon returning to his cell, his roommate, a tattooed old man who had been silently watching him since his arrival, said in a raspy voice, “I know who you are.
“I saw you at a tournament years ago. Why are you putting up with all this?” Tomás stared at him. He didn’t respond, but a faint smile appeared on his face. Because what no one knew was that the lion doesn’t respond to the barking of dogs; he just waits for the right moment to roar. “O estopim bello numa tarde abafada, no patio de exercicios.”
The inmates were left alone for an hour, taking advantage of the little bit of sunlight that crossed the high prison walls. Tomás walked in silence as always, avoiding provoking. But the rat didn’t just want to humiliate him, he wanted to make an example of him. Flacucho shouted rat, calling everyone’s attention. Hey, this graduation day.
Let’s see if you know how to defend yourself. Without warning, they are moving forward directly. Tomás deviated from the planned movement with a quasi-supernatural calm. The group of Elrata laughed, claiming that it was a draw, but the second blow moved faster and Tomás turned to dodge. Take a step backwards, assuming a low, centered posture. What’s happening? You are afraid, provoked by The Rat, now furious.
And then what happened with a precise turn, Tomás deflected the third blow and a fluid movement grabbed the attacker’s arm and fell with controlled force. Caiu no chão com um baque seca, moaning de dor. The silent patio. Um two capangas avançou running. In seconds, Tomás or I fell with a direct shot in my stomach.
Another attempt was made to grab him from behind, but he was thrown onto the concrete like a cloth bone. Nenhum two homens conseguiu sequer encostar nele. The crowd of prisoners was no longer in attendance. Open mouth. Because everyone thought he was fraco, he danced between attacks like a ghost, fast and precise. Nothing in his movements was exaggerated, barely efficient and lethal.
When the last attacker did not stop, Tomás stopped in the center of the circle formed by internal hairs. He was elegant, more serene. Ol para el rat, que ara o fitava com terror nos olhos. “I warned you,” Tomás said in a low voice. Don’t confuse silence with weakness. From that moment on, no one will ever approach you with disrespect.
Since that day, Tomás’s name began to circulate among the runners in prison with another tom. It was not a reason for pity, but for respect. Tie the carcereiros or observe them with caution. He was a rat, humiliated in front of everyone, spent days in the infirmary and when he turned around, he avoided crossing or smelling like a man who had destroyed his pride in just a few minutes.
Tomás used his victory to dominate none. I continued silence, completing six days with discipline. But now, when the corridors were walking, the prisoners opened the way. Some of them tied up or sat down with a slight grimace, or watched as two more young men, imprisoned for petty theft, approached the library and said: “Tell me what you know?” Tomás ool, he thought and for the first time in weeks he really smiled.
Sure, but first you have to learn to be patient, transform dor fora, or silence into power, humilha into knowledge. When he finally got out of prison, two years later, he didn’t find out how he got in. It was not just the man who had survived the inferno. He was the master who had gained respect without needing to destroy anything, just showing who he really was.
And so, Toma left a mark no one would forget, because in a world where many roar to scare, he chose silence until it was necessary to roar. What do you think of this story? Have you ever been underestimated too? Tell me in the comments. Subscribe and don’t forget to like if this story touched your heart.
