Chapter Two
I looked at my watch. It was 4 PM. I had two more hours until I needed to go home and sit through a torturous dinner with Bill. I better spend these two hours doing something I liked to calm my nerves down. Quietly slipping out of class, I headed for the bike rack. Someone forcefully pulled me aside. To no surprise, it was Adam and his lackeys.
"Can we please not do this?" I said, exasperated. I had an important place to be at. Adam came closer, and I could feel his breath on my face. His two lackeys were holding me in place to make sure I didn't move.
"Cotton picker, you've been feisty today," Adam snickered.
Yes, you heard that correctly—cotton picker. Not the best nickname anyone could have. I rolled my eyes in disgust.
"Look, get it over with, Adam. If you're going to punch me, do it. I have somewhere to be."
"You're in such a hurry because your mom's waiting for you at home?" Adam taunted. "What is she, anyway? Selling her body to a white man to keep you in America?"
Immediately, I felt something in me snap. My vision blurred with rage as I lunged for Adam. The noise around me faded, and all I could focus on was Adam's smug face, the words echoing in my mind like a taunt.
Strength surged through my body like never before. It was like a high, a dopamine rush. Every fiber and bone in my body was filled with raw power. I could feel the power coursing through me, clouding my judgment. My fists connected with Adam's face with a sickening thud, sending shockwaves up my arms. Adam's head snapped back, blood spraying from his nose and mouth.
Adam's lackeys, seeing the sudden change in me, stepped back in fear. "Dude, let's get out of here!" one of them yelled.
"He's gone crazy!" the other shouted.
But I couldn't hear them. I was lost in the frenzy, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I landed punch after punch, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles. Adam tried to fight back, but my strength was overwhelming.
Adam's uniform was soon a bloody mess, his glasses barely hanging on his face. My own uniform was stained with blood, the fabric sticking to my skin. I couldn't stop, even as Adam's body went limp beneath me. The power coursing through me was intoxicating, blinding me to the consequences of my actions.
When the rage finally cleared from my eyes, I looked down to see Adam lying motionless on the ground. Blood pooled around him, seeping into the cracks of the pavement. My hands were stained red, my heart pounding in my chest. I stared at Adam's lifeless body without any emotion, my mind numb to the horror of what I had done.
I stumbled back, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The reality of my actions began to sink in, but my mind struggled to process it. I stood there, frozen, staring at the blood on my hands.
The schoolyard, once filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, was now eerily silent. I could feel the weight of the world pressing down on me, the magnitude of my actions suffocating me. I took a step back, then another, my legs shaky and unsteady.
"You... you killed him," one of Adam's lackeys whispered, his voice trembling with fear.
My eyes darted to the boy, but I couldn't muster a response. My mouth was dry, my throat tight. The words wouldn't come. I turned and ran, my feet pounding against the pavement, the sound echoing in my ears. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to get away. The gravity of the situation sunk into me with every step I took, the image of Adam's lifeless body couldn't escape my mind. The people I saw all seemed to be Adam staring at me.
I ran through the streets, my mind a blur of fear and confusion. The world around me seemed to blur and distort, the colors and shapes melding together in a dizzying array. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.
Finally, I stumbled into an alleyway and collapsed against the wall, my chest heaving with exertion. I buried my face in my hands, the reality of what I'd done crashing down on me like a tidal wave. I had killed Adam. I had killed someone.
My mind replayed the events over and over, the rage, the power, the blood. It felt like a fever dream, something surreal and impossible. I couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it. But the blood on my hands told me otherwise.
As I sat there, trembling and gasping for breath, I knew that my life would never be the same. The ordinary life I once knew was gone, replaced by fear, guilt, and shame. I was a murderer. How was I going to live from now on? My mom was probably waiting for me to come home to have dinner with Bill, to patch up our relationship, but that wasn't going to happen. I probably wouldn't ever get to see my mom again. I wouldn't be able to go back to school. I would have no friends. Who would want to be friends with a murderer? In that small alleyway, I could feel my world,my life crumbling before me things would never be the same ever again.