Seated in the principal's office, my heart raced like a drum. My classmate Kirk sat next to me, his eyes red and swollen. It was hard to decipher if the emotion stemmed from rage or the cascade of tears running down his cheeks. The office walls exuded an air of authority with their polished wood. Contrastingly, the desk appeared rusted and worn, introducing a hint of disarray to the room. Mr. Broll, the serious principal, had a messy desk overflowing with papers, pictures, and an assortment of knick-knacks all clamoring for space.
Mr. Broll, with his shiny dome, seemed to catch the sunlight just right as it poured through the window. His beard neatly outlined his lips, yet there were no sideburns extending to his hairline. Whenever he felt disdain for someone or something, his hazel-green eyes would narrow. His outfit was meticulously put together, with a green shirt neatly tucked into his pants and polished dress shoes subtly visible beneath his desk.
"I heard there was a bit of a scuffle between you two, huh?" Mr. Broll shifted his gaze from me to Kirk, or at least that's what I assumed.
Weary, he sighed and took off his glasses. His hand kept gravitating towards his bald head, giving the impression that he was more agitated about something other than our argument. I had a feeling it was related to the numerous photos of his wife displayed on his desk.
After a brief pause, Kirk burst out with excitement. "It was him, he punched me first!" Kirk yelled, pointing his finger directly at me.
I retorted sharply, my tone escalating in annoyance. "You were just about to punch me!" "It was self-defense, ever heard of that?!"
Mr. Broll appeared rather indifferent to our intense discussion. "Quiet!" he yelled, abruptly halting our argument. "I have no time for you troublemakers." Your consequence is set: both of you will have detention for the next two weeks."
I was completely stunned, my jaw almost touching the floor. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This punishment was unlike any I had ever experienced. Of course, Kirk had never thrown a punch my way, but was I really expected to just take it without a word? Kirk had a reputation for being physically aggressive, and the school seldom took action. When the victim decided to fight back, they were suddenly seen as just as responsible? Did the victim have to face consequences too?
I snatched my backpack and stormed out of the office without a second glance. Straight to my science class I went, fueled by an anger that just wouldn't fade.
As the school day wrapped up, I was completely drained and still fuming over what had happened. This is where it all started to get a bit tricky. As someone who tends to keep to myself, it wouldn't have been a problem for me on its own. What concerned me the most was my mother's words. If my mother caught wind of this incident, I'd be in serious trouble considering her temperament.
As the school emptied with students buzzing about the upcoming prom, my annoyance escalated. To soothe my nerves, I grabbed my phone and began playing a mobile game. Was there anything amiss with that, huh?
As I strolled along the lively street, cars whizzed past, and the wind playfully tousled my hair. It was exactly what I needed after a challenging day. Surrounded by the symphony of the city, with honking horns and the vibrant hum of life. Inhaling deeply, I attempted to collect myself.
I had to take a shortcut, even though I wasn't a big fan of it. My mother always seemed to know when I wasn't home on time, and her intuition was never a good sign.
Entering a cozy forested nook, trees enveloping me from every angle, forming a shield of nature. Glancing around, a passing thought caught my attention before I carried on. But then I took a quick look behind me.
At that moment, my gaze lingered, intrigued by what lay ahead. I spotted a pair of black SUVs parked next to each other. A group of individuals dressed in black suits and sunglasses emerged from the vehicles. Confusion swirled around me, but my curiosity sparked with anticipation.
Approaching a nearby tree cautiously, I ensured I stayed out of sight. I focused on regulating my breath, yet my heart seemed determined to rebel. It seemed like it was on the verge of exploding out of my chest. I tried to inhale deeply multiple times, but found it challenging.
Turning my head gradually, I aimed to get a clearer look at the unfolding scene. One of the ladies sported brown hair pulled back and draping over her shoulder. However, they weren't dressed in traditional suits; they were wearing stylish black onesies that covered them from head to toe, including their shoes.
Is this some kind of strange workout or a dance show?
Next, I spotted a bunch of dudes, all decked out in identical outfits. Donning tight, fingerless gloves and helmets with tinted visors, their faces remained a mystery. Gray vests, ties, and dress shirts were the main components of their attire, all meticulously tucked into their pants. Each of them wore belts around their waists, setting them apart from one another.
There were five individuals on each side, and I was intrigued to discover who held the leadership position.
It quickly became clear that this wasn't a dance or workout regimen. Out of nowhere, a man in a vest launched a punch at one of the individuals who appeared to be an agent. Within moments, a chaotic fight erupted, with punches and kicks flying back and forth. The air was filled with the sound of fists and legs colliding, mingled with grunts of pain and effort.
Is this a live wrestling match?
I felt the urge to step away, to create some space from this peculiar scene, yet an inexplicable allure kept me rooted to the spot. Observing the scene, I witnessed a woman in a onesie swiftly take down a man in a vest with a skillful flip over her shoulder. As they touched down, the man seemed out cold or badly hurt, contrasting with the woman who emerged triumphant.
The fight raged on, like a savage boxing bout, until one of the individuals in vests deftly avoided a blow and then flung one of the agent men into a parked car. The windshield of the car shattered, and the front end looked deformed from the impact.
Were they involved in some sort of clandestine combat? My interest piqued further, despite acknowledging this wasn't a favorable pairing in any sense.
But suddenly, an event occurred that made my spine tingle with fear. A gun was suddenly waved in my direction, its barrel aimed straight at me. Maybe someone else was coming my way, and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My fear skyrocketed when the gun went off, and the bullet tore through the tree I was hiding behind. I gasped, my breath trapped in my chest.
I had to move fast, no time to waste.
I quickly dashed off as additional gunfire erupted, managing to evade the bullets by utilizing the cover provided by the surrounding trees. I kept on running, knowing I had to make it all the way back home.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw no one in pursuit, only the relentless bullets whizzing by.
At last, I made it to my house and knocked on the door with shaking hands. My mother responded, her face showing worry. She inquired, "What seems to be the issue?"
Speechless, I hurried inside and dashed upstairs, sensing a lingering malevolent presence on my heels.