"Huh?""What did you say?"
"I said... leave her alone."
Kick!
I hit the floor hard, pain surging through my side.But I didn't care.I wasn't scared.I was boiling over with rage.
While lying there, my eyes caught something—A half-finished packet of hot curry spilled from the counter. Some of it had survived.
Venny stepped closer, crouching just enough to sneer into my face.
"You f**king b*tch. You got balls, huh? How about I break them for you?"
He reeled back for a kick.
My instincts kicked in.I rolled away and grabbed the curry packet—And with all the fury in my soul, I threw it straight into his face.
Splash!
"Aaah!! F**k! It hurts!!"Venny screamed, staggering backward, clutching at his eyes.
That was my chance.
I grabbed the glass on the nearby table, didn't hesitate, and—
CRASH!
It shattered on his skull.
Venny hit the floor.
Motionless.
I stood there, panting, my hands trembling from adrenaline.My body was aching all over but I didn't feel a thing.
"I... I did it. I f**king did it!" I cried out, half in disbelief, half in triumph.
Then—
Wham!
Elijah tackled me from behind, slamming me to the ground. He got in a few punches—maybe more—but I didn't feel any of it. My mind was somewhere else.
"F**k, you okay?" one of them shouted, rushing to Venny.
But he didn't answer.He was out cold.
Panic set in.
"Yo—he's not waking up!""Sh*t—he's bleeding!"
Lyra, unnoticed in the chaos, had already dialed the police. Her voice was trembling as she whispered into the phone.
"We need to go—NOW! Elijah, grab him!"
They scrambled, lifting Venny between them and rushing out the door like cockroaches fleeing the light.
Silence fell.
Lyra dropped to her knees, letting out a broken sigh. But the fear on her face hadn't left.
"Lyra... are you okay?" I asked quietly, voice raw.
She didn't reply.
Instead, she stood, turned around, and walked into her room.The door clicked shut behind her.
...
I actually beat Venny.Holy sh*t.
My body was wrecked, but I felt—strangely—light.Relieved.Like I had finally done something right.
Tomorrow was going to be hell.But for now... I wasn't the coward anymore.
Still, Lyra...
I glanced at her door, guilt creeping in.
She was terrified. She saw everything.
Feeling like I owed her something—anything—I limped out and bought her favorite spring rolls from the nearby store. She used to light up every time she had them.
Maybe they'd help.
I knocked on her door gently and held them out.
She took the packet without a word—And shut the door again.
…
Maybe she didn't want to talk.Maybe she was just scared.Or maybe she was just done with her shitty brother.
The night felt longer than usual.
Every ticking second reminded me of what had just happened—Venny on the ground.Lyra's silence.The spring rolls left untouched outside her door.
I lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, still tasting the blood in my mouth. The bruises were settling in now. Each breath hurt. But none of it compared to the weight in my chest.
She saw everything.
And I couldn't get her eyes out of my head—Not the fear.Not the way she looked at me like I was a stranger.Like I was part of the chaos.
My phone buzzed.
1 new message.From: Unknown Number"You're dead tomorrow."
----
I didn't even realize when I passed out last night.
The last thing I remembered was the dull ache from where Venny kicked me, the heat of the spilled curry, and the rage boiling just under my skin. I guess throwing that curry back at him must've shocked them. At least enough to stop for a moment.
A moment was all I needed.
But anger fades. Pain stays.
I woke up curled on the couch. My neck was stiff, my back screaming in protest.
The spring rolls I had left for Lyra still sat outside her door—untouched. Figures.
Buzz
3 missed calls. From: Dad
I wiped my face with my sleeve and tapped his name.
"Hey Dad, where were you? Why didn't you come home last night?"
His voice came through the line casually, like nothing was wrong. Business trip. Last minute. Something about clients in another city.
Right.
I hung up and sat in silence for a while.
"At least someone in this house has purpose…"
Then I glanced at the time.
"F**k! I'm late!"
By the time I reached school, first period was nearly over. Lyra was gone. I didn't even hear her leave. She must've stepped over me while I slept.
I slumped into my seat, my body still sore from yesterday. My cheek had a faint bruise from when Venny's shoe grazed it. Nobody asked. Not the teacher, not the classmates. I wasn't surprised.
"They're probably saving it for lunch," I muttered. "Like always."
When the bell rang, I didn't hesitate.
I slipped out of school like a shadow and made my way to the convenience store just across the block. The same one I'd run to after getting beat up the first time. My safe zone.
Or it used to be.
There was a new cashier today.
Tall, lean. Casual uniform sleeves rolled up. Hair tied back loosely like he didn't care but somehow made it work. He had this face—sharp but calm.
"Seriously, how is life so unfair?" I mumbled under my breath, grabbing a sandwich.
I paid, nodded at the cashier, and moved to the corner to eat. My stomach hadn't seen food since yesterday.
I unwrapped the sandwich, about to take my first bite—
WHAM!
My food splattered on the floor.
"…F**k!"
I didn't even have to turn around.
I knew that sound. That smell.
Raphael.
He worked with the bullies. He was the collector—the one who gathered the money and 'tribute' from all the weaker students. Including me, once.
I thought I was off their radar after yesterday.
I guess not.
"Who's gonna pay for my sandwich now?" I muttered, half to myself.
Raphael didn't say a word.
He just stepped forward.
That look in his eyes—cold, mechanical. I knew what was coming. I could see it in his stance. That wide step. The shift in weight.
A sidekick. Straight to my jaw.
I'd seen him knock guys out with it. One hit. Done.
My legs refused to move. My mind screamed.
I'm f**ked.
KICK
"AH—!"
…But it never landed.
I blinked.
The world came back into focus, and there he was.
"The handsome cashier, sh*t, i said that out loud"
Standing between us, one hand wrapped around Raphael's ankle mid-air, like he was holding a grocery bag.
"…Sorry," the cashier said, unfazed. "I'm not into boys."
Then his eyes narrowed. "If you two are gonna have a lovers' spat, do it outside. You're scaring off the customers."
He released Raphael's leg like it was nothing, and the guy stumbled back.
"What the hell…" Raphael muttered, stunned.
I stared at the cashier like he was some kind of glitch in the universe.
Who the hell was this guy?
And why did it feel like—for the first time—I was safe?