The school's time was up. The noises coming from the vendors fade as they finally cleaned up and wrapped a huge fabric enough to cover their closed stalls. The lights along the streets consecutively shut off, until the whole darkness swallowed the night.
The guard was busy checking every room, like he has been doing every day. His whistle echoed along the hallway as he walked, unaware of every vulnerability around the entrance gate he left unattended.
A middle-aged man quietly entered, his hand trembled while his grip tightened on the knife. Metals screeched as the gate opened, but there was no one near around to stop him. He roamed his eyes, searching to release the unimaginable anger he had after the death of his own flesh and blood. His eyes stopped at the room with open lights.
"Good for that fucking bitch," he murmured. He wasted no time and immediately headed to where that room was.
"Hey, who are you? What are you doing here?"
Unlucky for the man, the guard found him upstairs. The guard raked the flashlight over him, tracing every detail from toe to head. He quietly panicked when he saw the knife the man was carrying.
"Go back and don't come here. That thing is prohibited. It's already late," the guard firmly said, trying to overpower the fear he was feeling.
His words awakened the anger flowing through the man's nerves.
"Yeah, it's late. It's too late for you, too, to run."
Cold sweat immediately ran down the guard's face as he slowly stepped backwards. He groped for a defense weapon in his belt; there was none. The man noticed.
The flashlight fell from the guard's hand, its clang filled the hallway. His legs shivered, wanting to shift away but could not move in confusion. Before the guard could run, the man's trembling yet firm hand gripped his shoulder. The guard can hear nothing but his own pounding heart. He gasped as the sharp edge slowly stole his breath.
The metallic smell of blood hung in the air, as the man withdrew the knife entrenched on the guard's stomach.